She keeps her hands folded over her chest.
A strange silence hangs on her face.
Alia speaks in a slightly trembling voice,
"Yes, everything's fine."
Victor slowly walks toward her.
There's a soft smile in his eyes—but something hidden beneath.
Maybe, deep down, he senses that something has changed.
He pulls Alia close to his chest.
She hesitates for a moment…
But instead of pulling away, she places her lips on his—
A gentle, yet deeply emotional kiss.
The moment freezes.
Alia is about to say something,
But Victor leans in for another kiss.
She lightly pushes him back and says—
"What are you doing? Are you crazy?"
Victor stops.
His eyes grow darker, clouded with emotion.
His voice trembles—
"I can't hold myself back, Alia.
When I'm near you… I want to forget everything.
You have no idea… how much I—"
He suddenly stops.
The words get stuck in his throat.
As if to say them now would change everything.
Alia steps slightly away from his chest.
She looks into his eyes—
There's a storm within her, but her face remains still.
With a shadow of monsoon in her voice, Alia says softly,
"You know about my family… what my mother and father were."
Victor looks at her with trust and curiosity.
Alia's voice deepens, burdened—as if revealing a secret long buried.
"I was born in Bangladesh, into a noble royal zamindar family.
My father was a renowned businessman, recognized as a state-level trade diplomat.
And my mother… she was Russian—descended from the KGB.
Her blood carried secrets, politics, and the cold shadows of the Cold War."
She pauses, then continues—
"My ancestors were freedom fighters, rulers, and politicians.
To be born into this family was not just an honor, but a burden—
A crown of responsibility that never leaves your eyes.
My life was different from the start—strict training, extreme discipline—
All of which shaped me into one of the world's top agents."
"They call me a ghost agent because no one can track me.
When I went to America, all my data was wiped. I was made that way."
Victor's eyes fill with awe and respect.
He realizes the royal identity hides a harsh reality—
One that Alia had to face and prepare for every single day.
He looks into her eyes and slowly says—
"You stand before a mafia lord… and you're not afraid?"
Alia lets out a soft smile, courage gleaming in her eyes.
"Only those fear who have something to lose.
I've already lost everything. Now, I just know how to survive."
Victor leans in and whispers in her ear—
"Margaret…"
Then he suddenly kisses her neck, holding her tight.
"Maybe in the end, you won't be mine.
Maybe you'll be Margaret's…
But she's not good, Alia.
She works for me—she's a mafia boss.
And now… she's working with the FSB too.
She's obsessed with you.
I heard that from your Korean teammate, Yash."
Alia flinches, her voice shaken—
"Yash wasn't supposed to say that! He's my colleague. He's someone I trust."
Victor gives a hard smile—
"I scared him a little… so he spoke.
I can't bear it when someone mentions you in front of me."
Alia steps back.
Her eyes blaze.
Hurt and betrayed, she says—
"You threatened him?
You dared to speak on my behalf like that?
Victor, do you even realize—you're doing the exact thing you always say you don't!"
The air goes still.
Victor's smile fades.
In Alia's eyes—pain, fury—deeper than even love.
Alia slowly lowers the collar of her shirt.
Victor's gaze locks on her chest—
Where once there was a phoenix tattoo, burning with fire.
Now… only a faded mark remains. The tattoo is gone.
Alia meets his eyes.
"You once told me to rise again from the fire…
That's why I inked the phoenix.
But now it's gone.
I erased it—for you.
Because I wanted a new beginning. With you."
Victor remains silent for a moment.
Then, he slowly unbuttons his shirt.
On his chest was once a great owl—a symbol of wisdom, a mark from his old life.
Now it's half-erased, the color faded.
Victor's voice is heavy:
"I didn't want it either.
I'm a different man now.
You know I accepted Islam. Took a new path…
But still—I don't want to lose you.
And I don't know if I even deserve you."
Tears form in Alia's eyes. She steps closer.
Her voice shakes—with rage, grief, and love:
"What kind of man are you, Victor?
Do you even know what you want?
You say you love me—but you threaten my team.
You changed your faith for me—yet you stand here unsure!"
Silence.
Two broken souls, standing side by side…
Love exists. But no answers.
"That Margaret girl… she's not good.
I know she's obsessed with me—I saw that fire in her eyes.
But I didn't know she was a mafia boss!"
Her voice suddenly cracks.
"And Anashia… she knows nothing.
She doesn't know who Margaret really is.
She doesn't know the danger she's falling into!"
Victor's eyes show a flicker of crisis—
He realizes this isn't just a love triangle. It's a game of life and death.
Alia, trembling, says—
"Anashia is a spy now.
She's busy with her own missions—I never told her anything.
I thought she was safe.
But now I see… she's surrounded by fire."
She pauses, eyes filled with tears.
"Should I tell her everything?
Or stay silent—as if I know nothing?"
Victor walks toward her, his gaze soft—rarely seen.
"Whatever you do, Alia… do it carefully.
Your decision won't just change your life—it could change many.
And I'm with you.
Even if you're not mine… I'm here."
Victor speaks slowly—
"I was a psycho as a kid… I killed my own father."
His eyes are heavy with pain and fear.
"My father was a cruel mafia lord—
He turned our family into sacrificial lambs.
My mother… she was Ukrainian.
But I don't even know where she is now. She's been missing for years."
He pauses.
"They kept me chained—so I'd have no hope, no dreams."
His voice cracks.
"Your father and mine… they were once best friends.
Like souls tied together. Loyal and good men once."
Alia suddenly laughs—a strange, broken laugh.
"You're not alone, Victor.
I'm a psychopath too.
I still can't control myself.
Once… I killed someone.
And I laughed like a madwoman as they died."
"They locked me in a room after that—
To keep me from hurting anyone else.
Dad sent me to America.
He said it was for my good.
But really… I was running from the monster inside me."
Her eyes look into the distance.
"Do you remember?
Many years ago—you, me, and our families went to a city in Korea.
I wore a traditional hanbok…
You did too—more beautifully, more perfectly than anyone.
Your hair was long then…
I pointed a toy arrow at you, just playing.
And you turned red with embarrassment."
Victor looks into her eyes and says softly,
"Yes, I remember.
You had the arrow… but so did I.
Your eyes burned then—just as they do now."
He steps closer.
"You can run, hide, laugh…
But I know—I live inside you too.
After all the madness, we are mirrors of each other."
Victor stops in front of her. He stares into her eyes.
Then…
He suddenly lifts her into his arms.
Alia tries to speak but stays silent—
Her head resting on his chest.
Victor's voice turns tender,
"You're broken. So am I.
Come, let's rebuild—together.
And if we burn… we burn as one."
He kisses her forehead—a deep, reassuring kiss.
Victor gives her a soft smile and says,
"Let's go to the party tonight. You and me.
I'll introduce you to everyone...
But one thing—no one will know you're CIA."
Alia looks surprised, slightly tense, but a wild glint of excitement flickers in her eyes.
She doesn't say anything—just nods.
**She wears a white Marmet gown with a soft satin overlay.
Beneath it, subtle shimmering fabric glows under the lights.
Her hair is loose—falling in natural waves.
Honey-colored lenses, nude lips.
A thin diamond necklace around her neck She looked like a princess… yet a warrior.
Victor appeared in his black suit—
without a shirt or tie, carrying a kind of modern, rugged elegance.
He took Alia's hand and opened the door of the Rolls Royce for her.