Night fell, and the city lights bloomed in a riot of colors, making the whole place feel both vibrant and a little mysterious. Inside the ballroom on the top floor of the Carlton Hotel, the air hung heavy with the scent of champagne, roses, and an intoxicating mix of expensive perfumes. Crystal chandeliers cast their glittering light on faces meticulously made up, each one a mask, every person playing their part.
Phyllis, holding a glass of untouched sparkling water, moved through the crowd, a perfectly composed, slightly distant smile gracing her lips. She wore a sharply tailored black gown, devoid of excessive embellishment, yet it accentuated her beautiful and striking figure, making her resemble a thorny black rose. Tonight, her assignment was to ensure the security of the C-country trade delegation – her new role since her "rebirth" as a top international security consultant.
She knew well that beneath this veneer of calm, a storm was brewing. Five years ago, a fire had consumed everything she held dear, including the most cherished part of her memory – the indelible imprint of a certain man. Now, only a hazy shadow of that profound memory remained, and the occasional pang in her heart threatened to shatter her carefully constructed facade.
She had once believed that the train accident five years ago had been the nadir of her life. He, in that moment, had been her sole beacon of light amidst the flames and debris, gripping her hand tightly and vowing, "Never forget, never part." That promise felt etched into her very soul. But when she was rescued and awoke, she learned he had "vanished," as if he'd evaporated into thin air. Five years she had spent, transforming from an naive junior agent into this "ghost," all to uncover the buried truth and find the man who had disappeared.
Just then, a hush fell over the ballroom entrance. The lively chatter seemed to mute as if on cue. A powerful, almost suffocating aura swept through the room, making the air feel solid, drawing all eyes. Phyllis instinctively looked over, her champagne glass tilting slightly. The icy water moistened her fingertips, yet it did nothing to quell the sudden surge in her heartbeat.
Framed by the light, a tall, striking figure stood silhouetted in the doorway. He was impeccably dressed in a perfectly fitted black suit, giving him an incredibly sharp appearance. His hair was meticulously styled, and his face, with its deep-set, almost sculptural features, was flawless. His commanding presence was like that of a king stepping into the night. That face, which had appeared countless times in her midnight dreams, only to fragment upon waking.
John.
The name was like a blade, piercing through Phyllis's every cool pretense. Her breath hitched, and everything around her blurred, leaving only his distinct figure standing there. He walked in, his steps steady and powerful, each one carrying an undeniable authority. His gaze swept across the room; no one dared meet his eyes. The usually arrogant business magnates now bowed their heads, respectfully clearing a path for him.
When his gaze casually brushed over Phyllis, her heart skipped a beat. She almost instinctively wanted to flee, to melt into the shadows of the crowd, but she forced herself to stop. She couldn't run. She had waited five years for this very moment.
Phyllis's fingers whitened, gripping the glass so tightly her knuckles turned pale green. The vow from five years ago, she remembered it vividly. Yet, today, five years later, he didn't recognize her at all! He had forgotten her. He had truly forgotten her. The thought plunged into her like an icy knife, a pain so sharp it almost suffocated her.
"Mr. Zhuo, welcome." The chief representative of the C-country delegation, a portly middle-aged man, went forward eagerly and obsequiously, extending both hands.
John gave a faint nod, his voice deep and magnetic, imbued with an unquestionable authority: "A pleasure to cooperate." His gaze never returned to Phyllis. He walked directly to the center of the ballroom, quickly surrounded by fawning business elites. His assistant, Kevin, an equally expressionless and meticulous man, followed him like a shadow. Kevin's gaze quickly swept the crowd, and when he saw Phyllis, a flicker of almost imperceptible surprise crossed his eyes, but it swiftly vanished.
Phyllis remained rooted, feeling as if an invisible wall of ice separated her. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down. She knew John's amnesia was no accident. The unanswered questions from the accident five years ago, combined with the scattered clues she had secretly uncovered over the years, all pointed to a vast and secretive organization lurking in the shadows – "Shadow." Their power was immense, their methods ruthless, and they had even infiltrated the Yarfi family, pervasive and insidious.
She drained her sparkling water in one gulp. The icy liquid sliding down her throat brought a measure of clarity. From her purse, she retrieved a silk handkerchief and gently dabbed the moisture from her fingertips. Along the edge of the handkerchief, an almost invisible iris was embroidered – a secret known only to her and John. Without a ripple of expression, she moved towards John, as if by chance, brushing past him. In that fleeting moment, she subtly slipped the handkerchief into his suit pocket.
As the handkerchief touched his pocket, John's body stiffened almost imperceptibly. His fingertips unconsciously tapped his thigh, a small movement only he would notice. His brow furrowed almost imperceptibly, and a familiar yet elusive sting flashed through the depths of his mind. But he quickly regained his composure, continuing his conversation with guests as if nothing had happened.
Phyllis did not look back. She knew her test had succeeded. He wasn't completely unresponsive; his reaction was just too deeply suppressed. This lessened her hatred slightly, replacing it with deeper heartache and an unyielding determination. He had forgotten, but she had not. The truth of that fire, and the reason for his amnesia – she would let nothing go. She had returned here at all costs to peel back, piece by piece, the bloody truth that had been concealed, starting with him.
She would make him remember everything, both the love and the hatred.