Alia's Bathroom - Night
Alia tidies up her bathroom after a shower. She's naked, a towel hanging nearby. Suddenly, Victor grabs her from behind, his hand slowly circling her throat, pulling her close.
Alia (trying to run, screaming):
"Victor, no no! I told you I'd kill you if you did this!"
Victor smiles faintly, looking her in the eyes.
Victor:
"Princess Alia, I want to touch you... I want to kiss you."
Alia glares at him, her brows furrowed in rage.
Alia: "You're a devil in disguise!"
Victor's slow smile widens as he says:
Victor:
Me too
The steam in the room grows heavier, thick with silence.
Only the sound of their breaths.
Alia's chest rises sharply. She doesn't move away—but her eyes are locked on his, filled with tension. Not fear. Something deeper. Something unsaid.
Victor steps in slowly. No rush. No force.
Just… silence.
Their faces now inches apart.
Victor (softly):
"You may not remember… but something inside you still knows me."
Alia doesn't answer.
Her breathing quickens. Her body is frozen—but not resisting.
Victor gently brushes a strand of wet hair from her cheek.
Then his lips meet hers—lightly. Slowly.
It's not hungry. It's not rushed. It's like a memory... returning.
Alia's eyes close. For a moment, she lets it happen.
But then—she pulls away. Her eyes are cold again, firm… but shaken.
Alia (quiet, steady):
"This doesn't change anything."
Victor takes a slow step back.
But the fire in his eyes remains.
Victor (calmly):
"Still… something has changed."
Location: Alia's private bedroom
Mood: Quiet intensity, heavy silence, mystery-wrapped intimacy
The room is dim. Only moonlight pours in through the window, casting silver lines across the floor.
The curtains sway gently.
Rain taps softly against the glass. Inside, it's completely still.
Alia lies in bed.
Her hair is messy, her breathing calm but deep.
Her bare shoulder rests against the pillow, her eyes half-closed.
Next to her—Victor. Silent. Awake. Lying flat, one hand behind his head, staring at the ceiling.
They say nothing.
Because in moments like this, words feel too loud.
Victor (softly):
"You know… a night like this happened before."
Alia (with a soft smile, eyes closed):
"In 1700… right?"
Victor gives a faint smile. His fingers brush gently over hers.
Victor:
"Back then, you put a knife in my hand.
Now... you're holding it like you trust me."
Alia turns to face him, the covers slipping slightly off her back.
Alia:
"I wasn't afraid then. I'm not afraid now.
But trust... that's the hard part."
Victor sits up slowly, looking toward the rain-drenched window.
A flash of lightning lights up his face.
Victor (quietly):
"If you remembered everything—if you knew who we were running from…
you'd be afraid of me."
Alia slowly sits up beside him, her fingers brushing across the scar on her side.
Alia (staring at him):
"Then tell me, Victor.
Who am I?
Why does my blood burn when I close my eyes?
Why do I see fire in every dream—and hear you calling my name from inside it?"
Victor (softly):
"Because you are the fire, Alia.
And I… I am the shadow.
We were never separate."
Alia places her hand gently on a long scar across his chest.
Alia (voice trembling):
"This scar… You gave this to me, didn't you?"
Victor looks down. Nods slowly.
Victor:
"I couldn't stop myself.
That life… it ended in a palace, but it began in a prison."
Alia leans closer to him, her voice quiet but steady.
Alia:
"Are you still wearing the mask, Victor?"
Victor turns to her, eyes steady.
Victor:
"No.
Tonight... I'm just yours."
Alia lays her head gently on his shoulder.
Silence returns.
The air is heavy. But not with fear—
With memory.
A clock ticks somewhere in the distance.
> Alia (holding back tears):
"Then teach me everything, Victor.
So I'll never be weak again."
Victor (low, intense):
"You're not weak.
You're the flame that makes time itself stop burning."
She lifts her face slowly and kisses him—
Soft. Silent. Not rushed.
A kiss that feels like it's already happened before.
In the background, an old painting seems to shift.
As if time itself paused.
Their eyes meet.
Victor (whispers):
"Your body is in 2025.
But your soul… it's still trapped in that palace."
Alia lets out a quiet laugh through her nose.
Alia:
"If you ever leave… I'll become the fire again.
But if you stay... I'm just Alia."
Moonlight stretches across the bed, soft and cold.
Two bodies lying side by side—
but beside them lies a silence thick with history.
Outside, in the shadows...
someone is watching.
FADE TO BLACK
TEXT ON SCREEN:
"The memory isn't gone.
It's just… sleeping.Scene Cut: From Alia's Dream to Mafia Lord's Realm
Alia lies on the bed, eyes closed, lost in a dream.
In her dream, she stands amidst flames in an ancient palace.
A faint smile plays on her lips — as if she's just uncovered a secret, found her purpose.
Slowly, she starts to smile, a soft but knowing smile.
Alia (in dream, whispering to herself):
"Everything will fall into place… this is just the beginning."
The dream fades.
Scene shifts.
Mafia Lord Alia — inside a sleek modern office.
Dressed in a sharp black suit, sunglasses on, a cigarette in hand.
Around her, people listen anxiously but with respect.
Her phone buzzes on the desk — a leadership meeting notification.
Alia stands slowly, a confident smirk on her lips.
Alia (to herself):
"The game has only begun…"
Alia stands by the window, looking out over the city lights, sharp and determined.
Her eyes are focused, full of resolve.
The door opens quietly.
Margaret enters, dressed in sleek black—calm, dangerous.
Zhenkha follows behind, a slight smile playing on his lips.
Margaret (nodding to Alia):
"We got the intel. The target moves tomorrow night."
Alia slowly turns, locking eyes with Margaret.
Alia:
"Good. No mistakes this time."
Zhenkha steps forward, pulling out a tablet,
swiping to reveal a detailed city map with red markers flashing.
Zhenkha:
"The route is heavily guarded.
But there's a blind spot here—"
(he points to a dark alley)
"If we time it right, we can slip through unnoticed."
Margaret folds her arms, eyes on Alia.
Margaret:
"The team's ready. Everyone knows their role."
Alia smiles coldly, confident.
Alia:
"Then it's settled. Tonight, we take back what's ours."
She steps toward the conference table scattered with weapons, plans, and phones.
Alia (to both):
"We're not just fighting for power.
We're rewriting the rules."
Margaret nods solemnly.
Margaret:
"Together, we're unstoppable."
Zhenkha chuckles softly.
Zhenkha:
"This city will remember our names."
The three exchange a look—a silent promise sealed in that moment.
Camera slowly zooms out showing the trio standing united against the city skyline,
ready for the storm ahead.