The central region of Aurethia.
Headquarters of the second assassin organization—Obsidian Requiem.
Night roared across the sky as lightning tore through the storm clouds, its violent glare splitting the darkness apart. Each thunderclap struck like a blow to the mind, sharp enough to shred any trace of calm.
Bodies lay scattered across the ruined compound. Blood pooled beneath the moonlight, reflecting a cold, ghostly shimmer that crawled beneath the skin. Severed limbs were piled in grotesque mounds, twisted into shapes no living creature should ever witness. The stench of iron and death clung to the air with suffocating weight, invading every breath—as if inhaling for one second too long would drown a person in the scent of slaughter.
Bullets burst through the air, blooming into arcs of blood that scattered in the wind. The explosive crack of gunfire drowned out the last ragged screams, leaving behind only a thick, crushing despair that swallowed the battlefield whole.
The fight had reached its end.
Silence seeped into the ruins like a slow-moving fog.
"Leader, the forces of Obsidian Requiem have been completely eliminated."
The survivors—only half of their numbers still standing—gathered before a single girl. Every one of them bowed their heads with unwavering respect, waiting for her command.
"Let's go," she said, voice calm, almost indifferent.
"Time to take a look inside."
The girl's silhouette was slender and poised, her black tactical suit stained with splashes of dried blood—barely visible, yet impossible to ignore. Even standing still, she radiated a feral, suffocating aura, something carved from pure violence and unrestrained dominance.
Moonlight slid across her pale, sculpted features, outlining the sharp chill in her expression—cold, aloof, untouchable.
No one would ever imagine that the terrifying leader of Nightfall Syndicate, the most feared assassin organization in Aurethia, could look so deceptively harmless. So young. So calm.
And yet she was the undefeated myth of the underworld.
A thousand missions, never a single failure.
Ranked first on the global assassin leaderboard.
Her codename whispered like a forbidden omen—
Violet Aster.
Tonight, she led two-thirds of Nightfall Syndicate's elite to wipe out their long-time rivals, Obsidian Requiem—
not merely defeating them,
but erasing every trace of their existence from this world.
From this moment on, the supremacy of Nightfall Syndicate would never again be challenged.
With the battlefield cleared, it was time for her to collect the spoils of war.
Currency, jewels, high–grade firearms, prototype tech—
anything with value was stripped from the compound and transported away without hesitation.
As for her, she walked alone into the central command wing of Obsidian Requiem, heading straight for their classified vault. A few minutes of silent work, and she retrieved the only prize she truly cared about—
a dossier tied to her origins.
She flipped through it quickly, eyes sharpening as she extracted the key terms:
Aurethia.
Velencia City.
The Vale Dynasty.
Serena Vale.
She burned the dossier to ash, watching the pages curl and blacken until nothing remained.
The weight pressing on her heart finally lifted—
a quiet, unfamiliar sense of relief spreading through her chest.
Tonight's work was done.
By tomorrow, the entire underworld would be trembling.
With Obsidian Requiem erased, no one would dare provoke Nightfall Syndicate for a long time.
Which meant, at last…
she could rest.
Just a simple trip back to Aurethia.
Just a quiet reunion with the family she had never met.
Just a taste of an ordinary life she'd never been allowed to touch.
A flicker of anticipation stirred at the edge of her thoughts—
soft, faint, almost shy.
Before leaving, she casually ordered the entire compound blown to pieces.
Now, it didn't even qualify as rubble.
A strange glint flickered in her eyes, followed by a wicked, almost playful curve of her lips. She tilted her head slightly toward the subordinate standing nearby.
"Clear the area," she said, voice laced with lazy cruelty.
"This place has excellent terrain.
Perfect spot for… a pig farm."
"…Yes, Leader."
The corner of the man's mouth twitched.
She was breathtaking when she smiled—
so why did he only feel the sharp, twisted humor beneath it?
A prime location like this… and she wanted a pig farm?
That was pure humiliation.
Correction—
a humiliation for the dead.
If ghosts could crawl out, they'd probably die again.
The operatives under Serena Vale worked with their usual razor-sharp efficiency.
Within a single day, every piece of information related to the Vale family had been neatly compiled and delivered to her phone.
They had also discreetly forwarded a curated version of her own background to the Vale household—just enough to spark recognition, without revealing anything they shouldn't.
According to the file, she had been adopted by an overseas orphanage and left at eighteen, wandering from place to place in search of her biological family.
Over a year of drifting, digging, and chasing faint trails…
and with the help of a few "kindhearted individuals," she had finally traced her origins back to the Vale Dynasty.
Now, the Vale couple finally knew the truth.
The newborn daughter who had been stolen from them barely a month after her birth—and who had vanished without a trace for nineteen long years—
was coming home.
The shame cut deep.
For a family with their level of power, failing to find their own child for nearly two decades…
and in the end, it was their daughter who found them first.
When they learned she would soon arrive in Velencia City, every member of the Vale family dropped what they were doing and headed straight to the station, far earlier than necessary, waiting with restless anticipation.
Meanwhile, Serena Vale, having settled every matter within the Nightfall Syndicate, prepared to depart.
Before leaving, she stopped by a street stall and bought a pale, inexpensive dress—something that cost barely a few dollars—and a pair of small black leather shoes. She intentionally scuffed them up, let her hair fall loosely around her shoulders, and fashioned herself into the picture of humble simplicity.
The contrast was almost theatrical.
Exactly what she needed.
Returning in such a plain, unadorned state…
She wondered what their reactions would be.
Disgust?
Or pity?
Serena quietly hoped for the latter.
She wanted—just once—to feel what it was like to be cared for, to be cherished, to be someone's precious person.
If the Vales truly welcomed her with warmth…
she wouldn't mind playing the part of the obedient daughter in the open.
But if they rejected her…
"Leader, are you certain you don't want us to send you back on the private jet?"
one of her operatives asked carefully.
"Too flashy. Unnecessary."
Serena didn't even look up as she answered.
She wanted the appearance of a fragile girl with nowhere to go—
alone, overlooked, harmless.
A carefully crafted persona meant to test the attitude of the Vale family.
And besides, drawing attention was the last thing she needed.
If her true identity ever came to light, it would drag trouble straight to the Vales' doorstep.
She had enough power to shield them—yes.
But what if the unexpected happened?
Even a single sliver of risk was unacceptable.
She would not allow danger to touch them.
Not now.
Not ever.