"They say, God always gives every human a second chance.
But whether that chance turns into a blessing… or a curse—only time decides."
---
Date: April 24, 2030
Time: 01:05 AM
Place: Beijing, China
That night, in the cold winds of Beijing, one name echoed in the dark alleys—Aryan… The Most Wanted Mafia.
A name so feared, that even the kings of the underworld bowed their heads before it.
They used to say—
"Without Aryan's signal, not a single leaf of the underworld dares to move."
For him, taking someone's life was as effortless as shaking someone's hand.
But that night—
the same Aryan was running… running from death itself, on the empty, shadowy streets of Beijing.
---
Behind him, dark silhouettes in black jackets fired relentlessly, their bullets tearing through the silence, ringing like the bells of death.
A voice roared—
"Aryan… tonight your game ends!"
Aryan turned back.
A faint smirk played on his lips.
He whispered softly—
"The game… has just begun."
Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth as he spoke.
---
Suddenly, a bullet tore through his shoulder.
Another ripped into his chest.
"Ahhhhhhh!" he cried in pain, staggering before collapsing to his knees.
Blood painted the street red.
The men surrounded him, laughing wildly—
"HAHAHAHA!"
One of them pressed a gun to his temple.
"Poor Aryan… Tell me now, where's your God?
When even God falls to his knees, no prayer comes out—only the last breath. And right now… your knees are under my boots.
Shall I send you to meet your Maker?"
Aryan stayed silent.
But his eyes… they still burned with the storm of defiance.
The man smirked cruelly.
"Big man… at least tell us your last wish before you die."
Aryan's face remained calm—like a man who had buried the fear of death years ago.
Then—BANG. The trigger was pulled.
The air trembled with gunfire.
---
Moments later… silence.
The mist slowly cleared.
Cold winds scattered cherry blossom petals like white snow across the ground.
The street was painted with blood.
The black-jacketed shadows who had mocked him moments ago now lay lifeless.
And in the middle—stood Aryan.
Barely alive.
Bleeding, broken, but unyielding.
His half-shut eyes still carried that deadly fire. With trembling hands, he gripped a gun lying nearby and whispered—
"The Mafia's game… never ends so easily."
His words echoed into the night, a challenge to death itself.
---
Stumbling forward, every breath tore his chest apart. Blood dripped from his steps, but his resolve was unshaken.
Dragging himself, he reached a garden where a towering cherry blossom tree stood tall.
The falling petals paved his path, as if bidding him a final farewell.
He sat down against the tree, gasping, his face pale yet defiant, his gaze fixed upon the sky—searching for something among the stars.
His sharp jawline, his piercing eyes, that faint smirk—even covered in blood, he looked dangerously beautiful.
So much so that, had any girl seen him then, even amidst bullets and corpses, she would have whispered—
"This man… could steal hearts, even in death."
---
His shaking hand reached into his pocket.
He pulled out a photograph, now drenched in blood.
Yet the girl's smile in that picture shone clearly… a smile that held an entire world within.
Aryan pressed it against his chest and whispered—
"If only… God gave me one more chance… I would hide you away from this world, and keep you safe under my eyelids forever…"
As he muttered, darkness clouded his eyes.
His breaths grew shallow… until they stopped.
---
Just then—
a star fell from the sky.
And with its blazing trail—somewhere far away, a young boy suddenly woke up, panting.
Alive. Confused. Trembling.
---
He sat up on his bed, breathing heavily, drenched in sweat.
Looking around, he saw no blood, no bullets, no cherry blossoms…
Instead, a simple room. Posters on the wall, sunlight streaming through the window, books stacked on a desk.
With shaking hands, he looked into the mirror—
and froze.
The face staring back wasn't the Mafia King anymore.
It was the face of a 21-year-old college student.
His heart raced.
Memories of bullets, blood, blossoms, and that photograph flashed before his eyes.
He screamed—
"What… is this?!"
A knock came at the door.
"Hey Aryan! You'll be late for class… hurry up!"
---
His eyes darted to the corner of the room.
There hung an old calendar.
The faded date read—June 1, 2010.
His breath quickened, his heart pounded.
This wasn't a dream.
It was real.
He had been reborn… twenty years back.
Back into the same incomplete, painful life.
---
The morning sun kissed the room, but Aryan sat still, gasping, staring at his reflection.
That innocent young face. Bright eyes. A faint beard. The glow of youth.
His lips trembled—
"I… I'm really here."
---
The door creaked open.
His old friend Rahul walked in—big glasses, headphones around his neck, and books in hand.
"Dude, Aryan!" Rahul laughed. "Late again? It's the first day of class, the professor's gonna eat you alive!"
Aryan just stared at him.
That face he had lost forever years ago…
was standing before him again. Alive. Smiling.
His eyes welled up.
Rahul frowned—
"What's wrong with you, bro? You look like you've seen a ghost."
Aryan quickly wiped his tears and forced a smile.
"N-nothing. Just… nothing."
---
Rahul shrugged and walked ahead. Aryan followed, whispering a silent vow inside—
"This time… I won't lose you.
This time… I'll take back everything I lost."
---
As they stepped out into the streets, morning sunlight spilled across the lanes.
Aryan's sharp eyes scanned every detail—the same corners, the same shops, the same lives he had once left behind.
The tea stall with the old man, the smell of paan, kids playing by the roadside, the bookshop on the corner.
Everything was just as it had been.
And Aryan whispered—
"I used to wish… if only I could live these moments again. And look… destiny listened."
His pace was calm, but his eyes shone with fire.
This life was no longer borrowed time—this was his second chance.
---
By the time they entered college, whispers had already begun.
Aryan's entry wasn't ordinary.
Black jacket over a white shirt, collar slightly open revealing his strong frame. That deadly half-smile. And eyes that burned cold fire.
A presence that made boys shrink, and girls skip a heartbeat.
"Who's that?"
"First time seeing him… damn, he's hot."
"His vibe… feels like a movie hero."
Phones buzzed, messages spread—
"New guy in campus… and the girls are already flat!"
Aryan walked unfazed. But inside, he absorbed everything.
The campus. The air. The vibes.
Same world. New game.
He glanced at the tall tower and smirked—
as if it hid a secret only he knew.
---
Meanwhile, a group of rich brats in designer clothes eyed him with disdain.
One puffed his cigarette and sneered—
"Yo hero… this a ramp walk or what? Where are the cameras?"
Another laughed—
"Looks like the new guy thinks the campus belongs to him."
Rahul whispered nervously—
"Bro… don't mess with them. They're the so-called princes of this place. You'll make enemies on the first day."
But Aryan only smirked.
His cold stare was enough to silence them for a second.
Then he said, casually—
"Campus might be yours.
But the entry… was mine. And it'll be remembered."
And he walked past, leaving the girls' eyes following him, and the rich boys glaring at his back.
Rahul groaned—
"Dude! Couldn't you just give a normal reply? You just turned yourself into the villain on day one!"
Aryan chuckled—
"Villains are necessary for every story.
The only difference is—this time… the story is mine."
---
What will happen next?
Where will Aryan's journey take him in this reborn life?
Find out in The King of Shadows —