Chapter 1
"Everything is all set, Miss Song," the henchman voice came through the phone.
"Very well. Carry on with the plan," Frances replied, a faint smirk curling her lips as she navigated the bustling airport. One hand-held the phone to her ear, the other tugged her luggage behind her.
She had just returned to Country P after four long years studying abroad.
Just three months ago, her life hung by a thread after a meticulously planned assassination attempt. She just barely survived, as if fate itself refused to let her die.
After escaping death, Frances is now fueled by vengeance, and she knows exactly who is behind it.
None other than her scheming stepmother, Mia Jing!
For years, Frances had been watching from afar, quietly gathering pieces of the truth. She had tried to expose Mia's scheming nature before, but her father, Chairman Song was blinded by deception, chose not to see. Instead, he sent Frances abroad, silencing her under the guise of protection.
Now nineteen, she is finally free from her father's control. It is time to return—to take revenge and take matters into her own hands.
….
"Wait here. Don't follow me — I'll only be a moment," Frances instructed the driver.
She stepped out of the car and slipped on a black mask, concealing her face before closing the door behind her.
In the heart of the inner city, Frances stood before a run-down office building. Without a trace of hesitation, she pushed the door open and strode inside.
Several men in black suits stood lined up behind the entrance, their posture rigid as Frances walked past them without a glance.
Inside a concealed room, a man wearing a black hat, face hidden in shadow, handed her a file. Frances took it without a word. After a brief glance, she turned and headed for the exit.
"I'll call when I need something handled," she said coldly, not bothering to look back.
Moments later, she stepped outside.
….
Just across the street, A man with tall figure walked through the drenched street, He moved through it with quiet ease, umbrella tilted just enough to shield his face. His steps slowed as he neared the corner.
A child sat there, knees to chest, soaked to the bone. No jacket. No shoes. Just a faded shirt clinging to their skin and hollow eyes staring up at him,watching, waiting.
He paused. Just for a second.
Then walked on.
When passed, the child's small hand shot out, fingers clutching the damp fabric of his pants. For a moment, they locked eyes: one gaze wide and desperate, the other dark, unreadable, as empty as the rain-slick street.
Then he wrenched his leg sharply, breaking the grip and sending the child sprawling into a filthy puddle. He didn't even pause to watch.
A few steps later, he let the umbrella slip from his fingers, the handle bouncing once in the gutter water before lying still. It wasn't an offering. It was disposal.
a piece of trash left behind, no more meaningful than the look he'd given the child.
He kept walking through the rain without looking back.
Behind him, the child sat up slowly, water streaming down his face like tears he refused to shed. He watched the man walk away until the dark figure blurred into the storm.
The rain fell harder, drumming on rooftops, until the street churned like a dark river. A car sped past, splashing dirty water up on his legs. He didn't flinch as the cold rain beat down harder on his hair and shoulders, soaking through every layer.
Achylys, the man walking is the street took shelter inside a small corner shop, his expression unchanged as he scanned the near-empty shelves. One umbrella left. He grabbed it without hesitation and walked toward the counter.
Just as he reached it, the door slammed open. A girl burst in, face hidden behind a black mask, eyes sharp, breath quick, like she'd sprinted all the way there.
"Excuse me," she asked. "Do you have umbrellas?"
"Sorry, Miss," the shop assistant said, gesturing at Achylys. "That was our last one."
Their eyes met.
The girl stepped forward. "Can I have it?" she asked plainly. "It's urgent. I'll pay you double."
Achylys didn't flinch "I don't care."
He paid. He turned. He walked.
The girl blinked, stunned by his bluntness,
"Wait!"
She said then suddenly grabbed his wrist with a tight grip.
"But I'm the kind of person," she said slowly, "who gets whatever I want… if I wanted to."
Their eyes locked again. Her stare was intense as her grip tightened
"I'm asking you one last time!" she said, her voice steady. "Hand it over"
He didn't respond. Didn't blink. Just kept staring at her
The girl's smirk twitched into a scowl.
"What's with you? Acting cool? Or are you really a mute? I don't have time for this mess, just hand it over!"
As she was about to snatch the umbrella from Achylys's hand.
But Achylys was faster raising it out of her reach while his left hand caught her arm, immobilizing her.
The two froze in an awkward position, their faces close.
"Listen," he said quietly, his voice low and cold.
"A brat like you doesn't get to order me around."
He flung her hand away and walked off without another word.
"Brat? A brat like me…?"
Frances was taken aback by his cold utterance.
A strained smile flickered across her lips. "How dare you insult me like—"
Before she could finish, Achylys was already out of the shop.
This made her even more annoyed, prompting her to curse him under her breath as he disappeared.
Yet, before stepping out of the shop, she quickly regained her composure, masking her frustration as if nothing had happened.
As she finally stepped outside, she stopped and confused to see a younger student holding the very umbrella she'd tried to take.
"Where did you get that?" she asked, her voice edged with curiosity.
The student pointed down the road.
"That man handed it to me."
She stared at Achylys's figure as it disappeared into the downpour, no umbrella, soaked and shadowed in the falling rain.
Under the steady rain, shivers ran down her spine. She didn't understand why her heart was beating so hard.
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
"…How much of a fool are you?"