The world felt stuck for Louis. No matter how many times he blinked, his brain refused to process the scene in front of him. The beautiful girl he should have left behind last night—Valeriya Belgari—was now sitting right across from his desk, casually buried in paperwork like she belonged here.
Of all the girls I could have met… why her?
Yeah, he knew Vey was beautiful. Stunning, in fact. But behind that beauty lurked something far worse—the memory of the chaos in the bar, the shadow, the mark still etched on his palm. She was tied to it, he was sure. And now she was in his office, breathing the same stale corporate air, pretending this was normal.
Wait. Something clicked. Last night… wasn't that supposed to be an office party? If she was already employed somewhere, what the hell was she doing joining Kia Tech the very next morning? And she'd said she was here for her "own business," not for him.
His thoughts tangled into knots. He tried to shove them back down, to force his mind into its usual routine. Just code, deadlines, coffee. That's all. But when he lifted his head, Vey was already standing at his desk, documents in hand.
"Hello, Head," she said smoothly, "please sign these."
Head? Ah. Right. Mr. Kim had introduced him as "head of tech development." For a moment he'd almost forgotten. Yesterday he was a lone wolf, the only programmer in this shoebox company. Now suddenly he had colleagues—and a title.
Louis straightened, trying to look calm. "Okay."
He scribbled his name quickly and handed the papers back. Just before she turned away, Vey leaned closer, her eyes sharp.
"I'll stop pretending," she murmured. "You're right. I am here to see you."
Louis's chest tightened. He froze, caught between fear and disbelief.
Seeing his reaction, Vey rolled her eyes. "Don't flatter yourself. This isn't about love, or cupid, or any nonsense like that." Her voice dropped, cold and certain. "Something happened last night. Something connected to you. We need to confirm whether it was really you—or not."
Louis's pulse spiked. "'We'? What do you mean we? And last night… it was just a normal bar fight, right?" His laugh came out awkward, too forced.
Her lips curved, not in amusement but in certainty. "So you do remember." Her gaze pinned him in place. "You admit you saw something."
Damn it. He cursed inwardly. This girl was too sharp, reading him like open code.
"And yes," she went on, "we."
She tilted her chin toward Neo and Amara.
Louis's eyes widened. "What? Them?!"
Vey just nodded, a smirk playing at her lips.
"Oh God…" His head dropped into his hands. "Even Amara?"
Amara only blinked at him—slow, deliberate—before her expression cooled into perfect composure, as if none of this fazed her.
Vey's tone turned sharp. "Careful with her. She loves playing games with men. Don't think you're an exception."
Louis's ears burned. "What? No, I—I didn't mean—"
"Enough." Her voice cut clean, final. She leaned closer, her eyes narrowing. "Don't forget—you still have my car. You drove it here, didn't you?"
Louis froze. "Yeah…"
"You're responsible for returning it. And for accompanying me to the address I gave you." Her stare sharpened into a glare that could have bent steel.
He tried to look away, to think of some excuse, but her gaze held him fast. There was no escape.
"Fine," he muttered. "I'll take you."
"Good." Vey straightened, satisfied.
The rest of the day dragged like quicksand. Louis barely touched his work, his thoughts stuck on the looming errand. By the time the office clock ticked toward evening, he already knew there was no way out.
So, after clocking out, Louis found himself sliding back into the Porsche, Vey at his side. The engine purred to life, the city lights flickering on outside. He gripped the wheel a little tighter, realizing with a sinking heart that this was no simple drive.
It was the beginning of something else. Something he wasn't ready for.
***
They arrived at last.
Louis killed the engine, his jaw slack as he stared out the window. Towers of glass rose like spears, cutting into the night sky. The sign read 706 Miles – Four Seasons Private Residences, letters glowing in gold against polished stone.
The place looked more like a palace than an apartment. Valets in black suits guided sleek cars into a marble-paved roundabout. The fountain in the center sent water glittering under spotlights. Even the air smelled different—cool, faintly perfumed with something expensive he couldn't name.
Louis's throat went dry.This? This is where she lives?
Not in his wildest dreams. Not even in his dumbest daydreams while coding at 3 a.m. He wouldn't even dare to visit a place like this, let alone walk inside.
Vey glanced at him, unimpressed. "Stop gawking like some poor stray. Park over there and follow me."
Louis flushed. "Err… okay."He guided the Porsche into the underground garage, the tires whispering against flawless concrete. Every parking space gleamed under bright lights, filled with cars he only ever saw in magazines—Ferraris, Bentleys, machines that cost more than his entire existence. He parked between a matte-black Lamborghini and a Rolls-Royce and wanted to sink into the seat out of shame.
They stepped out. Louis trailed after her, sneakers squeaking against polished floors. The lobby spread wide and silent, lined with white marble and chandeliers that scattered light like starlight. A concierge in gloves bowed without a word, too professional to even ask who Louis was.
Then Vey tilted her head at him, curious. "By the way… how the hell did you drive my car?"
Louis froze. "…What?"
"That Porsche. It's not like a normal car. It's a supercar. Most people stall just trying to move it."
Louis blinked. Wait.She was right. How the hell had he managed it? He'd slipped behind the wheel, pressed the start, and somehow—instinct. Like his body already knew.
What the… Am I secretly a genius?
"Lucky guess," he muttered.
Vey's eyes narrowed, as though peeling back his thoughts. "Or maybe not."
Louis stiffened. "You—! Are you reading my mind again?"
Her smirk widened. "No. You're just easy to read. Your face gives everything away. It's like you've never lied in your life. What are you, a saint?"
He groaned, dragging a hand down his face. Better to stay silent than give her more ammo. He followed her into the elevator, watching her press the button. 45.
"So… you actually live here?" he asked carefully.
"Of course," she replied flatly. "Why else would I bring you? You think I'd waste time on some company cubicle romance? This isn't about love, Chen. It's about something only you can confirm."
Louis felt his cheeks burn. Had she just—?Her gaze snapped to him, already guessing his thoughts.
"Stop," she said, exasperated. "Whatever dumb idea just crossed your mind—it's wrong."
He looked down, defeated. "Fine."
The elevator doors slid shut. A faint instrumental tune played, muffled by thick carpet and golden mirrors lining the walls. The ride stretched, silent but heavy, Louis feeling more and more out of place with every passing floor.
Finally—Ding.
The doors opened to a private hallway, muted lights glowing along dark wood panels. A hush blanketed the air, as though the world outside had vanished.
Vey led him to a sleek black door. Her penthouse was everything Louis expected and everything he wasn't ready for: floor-to-ceiling glass walls opening to a glittering skyline, marble counters, modern art, furniture too clean to sit on. It didn't feel lived in—it felt curated, like a stage.
"Close the door," Vey ordered.
Louis obeyed. The latch clicked, sealing them inside. The silence pressed down on him, broken only by the faint hum of the city far below. He hesitated, then stepped toward her, trying to sound casual.
"You live alone?"
Her head tilted. "Alone? Of course. No."
Louis frowned. "So… where are the others, then?"
That was when she smiled. Not a friendly smile, not even mocking—just the kind of smile that said she knew something he didn't. And instead of answering, she lifted her hands and began to chant.
"Adidartyto… Portala."
The sound was low at first, like breath slipping through cracks in stone. But as she spoke, the air in the room shifted—thickening, cooling. Louis felt goosebumps crawl across his arms. The temperature dropped enough for his breath to fog faintly in front of him.
"Wait—what are you doing?"
She didn't respond. Her voice grew sharper, each syllable vibrating like struck glass.
"Hevenh…"
Symbols shimmered faintly at her fingertips, leaving trails of pale light that hung in the air. A low hum built in the room—deep, mechanical, like the vibration of some enormous machine hidden beneath the floor. The crystal chandelier above rattled softly.
Louis's mouth went dry. His heart slammed against his ribs, panic clawing up his throat. He stumbled back a step, eyes darting to the door. His hand twitched toward the handle but stopped, useless—his legs heavy, rooted as though the air itself pressed him down.
No. No, no, no. This isn't real. This isn't normal.
The space in front of them rippled. The glass view of the skyline warped like melting plastic, then tore open. Light bled out—not warm light, not even natural—something pale and endless, the color of bone and lightning. It seared his vision, bending shadows unnaturally across the walls.
Louis's skin prickled. His palm burned, the sigil glowing faintly beneath the surface, pulsing in rhythm with the hum that now roared in his ears.
"Welcome to another world, Louis," Vey said softly, her silhouette framed in that impossible glow. Her eyes gleamed with something between triumph and inevitability as she pointed at his hand. "Don't pretend you don't understand. Last night, the aura around you… that mark. You can't run from it."
Louis trembled violently, his knees threatening to give out. "I—I don't want this. Whatever this is—"
Before he could finish, Vey closed the distance in two strides, her fingers latching onto his wrist like iron. Her touch was cold, colder than the air.
"Prepare yourself."
"NOOO!" His scream tore out, raw and desperate, as the portal surged forward with a blinding flash and swallowed them whole.