[ One year ago — Russian port, last November. ]
The port slept under the knife-cold November fog.
Crates groaned as men pushed them toward the ship — each box trembling with trapped, life.
Snow cracked under their boots like breaking bones.
"Быстрее! Это его территория!" (in Russian)
("Faster! This is his territory!")
Fear twitched in every hand.
Then… the fog shivered.
A silhouette appeared.
Tall.
Dark.
Silent like a storm about to break.
His boots echoed — thud… thud… thud — slow, controlled, claiming the pier with every step.
A gust of wind pulled at his black muffler.
He tugged it down.
Cold air hit his face —
his black hair snapping back in a soft, wild wave, strands falling across his forehead.
He look exactly like the same man of the dream that female lead once had.
Snow dusted his eyelashes.
His brown eyes — cold, unreadable — swallowed the world whole.
Same
Black gloves.
Silver ring.
Then-
A tilt of his hand—click.
A spark bloomed from his ring, lighting the cigarette between his lips.
(A Ring Lighter)
He exhaled once.
Smoke drifted through the snow like a ghost.
["Of course, the main lead's entry had to be legendary…
A Russian–Korean mafia king, the same man who once existed in an Indian girl's dreamsin Chapter 1.
Curious how his past, present, and future twist together?"
(—author's whisper to the reader) ]
A whisper spread:
"…Nozh."
The name tasted like fear.
Nozh's voice cut through the frozen air, lazy but sharp enough to bleed:
"В моей земле… и без стука? Где манеры, Драгунов?" (in Russian)
("In my land… and without knocking? Where are your manners, Dragunov?")
From the fog, a long fur coat emerged.
Ivan Dragunov - (The Russian Rifle and Nozh's rival. )
"Ты зря пришёл один," Dragunov threated. (in Russian)
("You made a mistake coming alone.")
Guns clicked.
Dozens.
But Nozh only smirked, smoke drifting past his lips.
"Я женщин, детей и животных не трогаю." (in Russian)
("I don't harm women, children… or animals.")
His gaze cut like steel.
"А ты… начал торговать животными прямо в моих землях. Это уже перебор." (in Russian)
("And you… started trafficking animals right in my territory. That's crossing the line.")
He chuckled under his breath—low, dangerous.
"Плохое дело…" (in Russian)
("A bad business)
He flicked the cigarette from his lips. It fell to the snow, glowing briefly before dying in the frost.
Every man's hand twitched toward his trigger.
But Nozh only pressed the sole of his boot over the cigarette, grinding it out slowly.
With a sharp snap of his fingers—TICK
From the mist, silhouettes appeared.
Nozh's men. Rifles raised, barrels gleaming under the moonlight
In a heartbeat, Dragunov's men found themselves encircled, cold steel pressing against their skulls.
The night air grew heavier.
The balance of power had shifted.
A shadow moved through the fog — quicker, more purposeful than the rest. He emerged at Nozh's shoulder with a pistol already in his hand.
Tall, lithe, the kind of man who belonged to the dark places of Moscow.
(This was Volkov — Nozh's right hand, also known as Moscow's Wolf.)
Volkov bent closer to Nozh's ear, voice low and disgusted:
"Boss… they've wiped out an entire forest here.
Snakes, a snow leopard, arctic foxes — torn out of their homes.
The poor creatures tortured for profit… absolute demons."
He clicked his tongue, fury sharpening his words.
"And that's not even the end… inside that stinking car — a black puppy.
Yes, yes, just a normal, tiny, adorable puppy!
And that jerk still managed to torture even him.
What kind of psycho touches a puppy?!"
He straightened a little, jaw tightening.
"Boss… this is personal now. Very personal."
Nozh stared at him.
Blank. Deadpan. Absolute silence.
Just a tiny "Oh" escaped him
And then he orders, cold and controlled:
"Back off! Move the containers! "
He head snapped toward the car.
Inside a metal cage —
a small black puppy with a long snout, whimpering, eyes wide with terror.
He walked toward it.
Calm. Cold. Deadly sure.
He pulled the door.
Locked.
He pulled harder.
Still locked.
A muscle ticked in his jaw.
Then—
CRASH!
He punched the glass with his gloved fist — shards scattering like crystals.
He bent in, ripping at the straps to free the puppy—
CLICK.
A sound too soft…
too wrong.
Volkov yelled—
"Boss, back!!"
BOOOOM!!!
The bomb hidden beneath the cage exploded.
A burst of fire hurled Nozh backward —
him and the little puppy flying across the ice—
He hit the ground HARD.
Blood streaked down his forehead instantly.
Volkov's scream tore through the blast:
"NOZH!!"
Everything collapsed into chaos.
The shockwave scattered Nozh's men.
The circle around Dragunov broke.
Dragunov roared:
"Огонь!"
("FIRE!")
His men opened fire.
Bullets ripped through fog and flame.
Volkov's voice cracked, desperate, furious
"Protect the Boss!"
He threw himself in front of Nozh —
gun blazing,
shielding him with his own body,
blood spraying across the snow.
The port turned into a battlefield—
Crates toppled, animals screamed, metal shrieked.
Nozh tried to rise —
but the world swayed.
His vision tunneled.
Blood blurred the snow.
Volkov grabbed his shoulders,
"노즈… 형… 눈 감지 마! 나를 봐!" (in his mother tongue korean )
("Nozh… hyung… don't close your eyes! LOOK AT ME!")
His voice ripped through the chaos, trying to pull Nozh back to consciousness.
"Nozh "
"Nozh "
"날 배신하지 마라." (Korean)
(Don't betray me.) He screamed.
Nozh tasted iron. The sounds became distant, like music through a wall.
His vision narrowed to tunnel-black edges, the world compressing into evanescent flashes.
-------Life rewound in brutal, quicksilver frames — a child gripping a cold rifle for the first time;
a hall burning with the smell of oil and smoke;
hands that learned to kill because nobody else would survive; promises made in blood and whispered in the dark.
"I will not die until I know why I am like this ?'"
He keep muttering in his thought.
His mind clenched around one bright, furious thought:
"I will not die now. Not before I have answers. Not without claiming what is mine."
"Not yet… not here…"
Snow and blood and the bitter taste of metal filled his mouth.
Then—blackness_______
"형, 일어나!" (Korean)
("Hyung — wake up!")
"노굴… 내가 네 이름으로 부르고 있어. 넌 여기서 죽을 수 없어."
("No Gul… I'm calling you by your name. You can't die here.")
"노굴!"
("No Gul!")
Volkov's eyes trembled — pain, fear, helplessness all crashing inside him.
His breath hitched, his voice breaking as he slammed his injured hand into the ice in frustration.
"노굴....!"
("No Gul....!")
To be Continued.....