The hotel had thirty-two floors.
The wind on the rooftop was like a beast that had been caged for too long, a savage thing that crashed and raged through the concrete jungle, letting out a mournful howl. The priceless wedding gown on Zoe's body whipped and snapped in the gale, and the frigid air pierced the thin lace like a thousand tiny needles of ice.
After dragging her from the elevator, the man did not immediately head for the edge of the roof. From behind a fire hydrant, he pulled out a crowbar that had been hidden there and, with a calm, practiced motion, wedged it between the handle of the rooftop access door and the wall.
CLANG.
The dull, heavy sound was like a death knell, shattering the last sliver of hope in Zoe's heart.
The door to her salvation was sealed shut.
Only after this did the man grab her arm again, dragging her step by step toward the edge of the roof as if she were a lifeless doll. The rough concrete underfoot scraped at her expensive satin heels. One more step, and it would be a fall into the abyss. The city's traffic flowed below her like a silent river of ants, the skyscrapers standing like cold, silent tombstones. A gentle push was all it would take for her to fall like a single, withered feather into this hell on earth.
Zoe's body trembled like a leaf in the wind, her teeth chattering uncontrollably. She finally found her voice, a sound so hoarse and broken it seemed to have been clawed from the depths of her throat. "Wh... why?"
She couldn't understand. Just half an hour ago, her life had been a perfect template, the envy of all. She had a handsome fiancé, a prominent family, a brilliant future. She had never, to her knowledge, made an enemy so hateful that they would seek to destroy her entire world in such a cruel fashion.
Hearing her, the man turned his head to look at her. His handsome face was a blur in the gloomy twilight, but the mockery in his eyes was as sharp as a newly honed blade.
"Why?" he repeated, as if he'd heard a funny joke, before tossing out an answer. "Probably because... you're unlucky."
The casual words landed like a boulder, smashing all of Zoe's logic and dignity to pieces. No reason, no hatred, just "unlucky." This absurd, pure malice was more despairing than any carefully orchestrated plot.
The instinct for survival overrode everything else. She no longer cared for the poise of a socialite or the pride of a bride. Her legs gave way, and she fell to her knees before him with a thud, her pure white gown instantly stained with the dust and grime of the rooftop.
"Please... please let me go..." She began to kowtow, once, twice, with all her strength, her smooth forehead striking the rough concrete with a dull thud. "Do you want money? I have a lot of money, my family's money, I'll give it all to you... Whatever you want, I'll give it to you... Please, don't kill me..."
She begged incoherently, tears and snot smearing her face, turning her exquisite makeup into a ruin. She thought that if she could just be humble enough, obedient enough, she might earn a chance to live.
The man watched her pathetic struggle in the dust with detached interest, as if enjoying a farcical play. He slowly crouched down and used the cold blade of his dagger to gently pat her tear-streaked cheek.
"How pitiful," he said with a sneer, his voice devoid of sympathy. "Did you know? I once killed a family of three who lived upstairs from me. The man, the woman, and their five-year-old kid... They knelt on the floor and begged me, just like you are now. The kid was the best, crying so hard that snot bubbles were coming out of his nose. It was hilarious."
Zoe's pleading stopped dead.
She snapped her head up, staring in disbelief at the smiling face before her. In that instant, she was plunged into an icy abyss, her limbs frozen stiff. She finally understood. She was not facing a kidnapper who could be bought or reasoned with, but a demon, through and through—a monster who took pleasure in torture and wouldn't even spare a child.
There was no possibility of survival.
The realization, like a blade of sharpened ice, pierced through all her fantasies of escape, bringing with it a strange, deathly calm. She stopped trembling. She stopped crying. She simply stared at him with a pair of empty eyes.
The man seemed satisfied with her despair. He stood up, looking down at her, and finally decided to reveal the mystery.
"You must be curious who I am, right?" he began, his tone leisurely, as if telling a story that had nothing to do with him. "We're actually colleagues. I'm in your company's IT department, in charge of network maintenance. A nobody. A tech nerd that you chosen ones would never deign to look at twice."
Zoe's pupils contracted. The IT department? She wracked her brain, searching her memory, but could find no face to match.
"Can't remember, can you?" The man smiled, a smile full of venom. "That's fine, I'll help you. About six months ago, also in the company elevator. You were wearing that beautiful diamond engagement ring. I don't know how, but it suddenly slipped from your finger. You cried out, 'Ah!', as flustered as a startled little bird."
His description was a key, instantly unlocking the floodgates of Zoe's memory. She remembered. It had happened. She had just gotten the ring from Charlie and was admiring it in the elevator when her hand slipped and it fell.
"The ring rolled into a corner," the man continued. "There were only the two of us in the elevator. I picked it up for you and handed it back. I remember it clearly. I even smiled and said, 'Congratulations, bride-to-be.'"
Zoe's breath caught. She remembered him now, the man who had picked up her ring... a man with black-framed glasses, a plaid shirt, and slightly greasy hair. A world away from the handsome, untamed figure in the white tuxedo before her.
"I remember..." she murmured.
"Oh? You remember?" The man raised an eyebrow. "Then do you remember what you did?"
Zoe's face went deathly pale.
She remembered. Her mind had been filled with the joy and fear of recovering the ring. When she took it from his hand, she had, almost instinctively, pinched it with just the tips of her fingers, as if his hand were something filthy. She could even recall the slight frown on her face and the perfunctory, dismissive "thank you."
"The look on your face was priceless," the man's voice turned cold. "You took the ring with two fingers, like you were picking up a cockroach. You frowned, the disgust in your eyes completely undisguised. You said thank you, but your expression told me: 'How is trash like you worthy of touching my things?'"
"I didn't..." Zoe tried to argue, but the words were feeble. She might not have thought those exact words, but she had acted them. It was the ingrained, deep-seated arrogance of the upper class, an arrogance she had been raised with since birth.
"You didn't? Hahahaha!" The man laughed maniacally, as if he'd heard the world's greatest joke. "Zoe, do you know what people at the company say about you? They say you're sweet, kind, like a little princess who lives on air. I used to think so, too. But in that moment, I understood. You're all the same! You people born with silver spoons, so glamorous on the surface, but deep down you treat ordinary people like us as trash to be stepped on at will!"
His voice grew more and more agitated, finally erupting into a hysterical roar. "WHY?! Why are you born with everything, while I have to live like a rat in a sewer?! Why do you get the perfect wedding, the perfect life?! I refuse to accept it! So, I decided..."
He leaned down, his lips close to Zoe's ear, and in a demonic, joyful whisper, he enunciated every word:
"I am going to make you... die... at the happiest, most perfect moment of your life. I am going to make you fall from heaven into hell."
With that, he straightened up and said no more.
He reached out and placed a hand, gently, on Zoe's shoulder.
Zoe wanted to say something more, to beg again, but it was too late. A tremendous force pushed her. Her body lost its final support and, like a leaf swept up by a gale, she fell backward into the endless abyss.
The sensation of weightlessness seized her.
The wind howled in her ears, a death god's hymn. Her mind was a blank slate, and time seemed to stretch into infinity. She saw the gray city below, the people on the streets as small and insignificant as ants.
Scenes from her past flashed before her eyes like a revolving lantern.
Charlie's smile, her parents' expectations, her friends' blessings... and her grandfather's cold, merciless words: "Leave her to die."
Finally, the image froze on the moment the elevator doors closed, on Jason's eyes, filled with a frantic, desperate anguish.
So, in this world, there really was someone willing to risk everything for her.
A pity. It was too late.
THUD.
A dull, sickening crunch.
The world plunged into eternal darkness.
...
She hit the fountain plaza in front of the hotel, the hard marble ground cracking on impact.
The pure, white wedding dress was instantly devoured by a grotesque tableau of deep red and stark white. Blood and brain matter mingled, a bizarre and brutalist work of postmodern art, utterly defiling the final sanctity of her life.
First, there was silence. Then, an eruption of sharper, more terrified screams.
Passersby gathered, but no one dared to approach. They stood at a distance, their faces a mixture of horror and curiosity, and then, as one, they raised their phones. Camera flashes strobed, greedily recording the bloody, sensational scene.
Zoe's grandparents were helped to the ground, collapsing. Her grandmother beat her chest, but instead of crying out her granddaughter's name, she cursed with the most venomous words: "A jinx! She's a jinx! Our family's reputation is completely ruined because of her!"
Charlie stood nearby, catatonic. His parents flanked him, forcibly dragging him away from the scene. He didn't resist, simply letting them pull him, the eyes that once held starlight now nothing but hollow, numb voids.
Amidst the chaos and indifference, a single figure, like a crazed, cornered beast, roared, shoving through the crowd of onlookers, and charged forward.
It was Jason.
He threw himself down beside Zoe, looking at the mangled, bloody thing that could no longer be called a person, and let out a sound that was not human, a raw cry of agony. He ignored the filth on the ground, fell to his knees, and with trembling hands, he gathered the broken body into his arms, holding it tight, so tight.
Hot tears fell, thick and fast, mingling with the viscous pool of blood.
"Zoe... Zoe..." he called her name over and over, his voice choked with endless regret and pain.
The stares of the crowd grew stranger, filled with confusion and speculation. But Jason saw nothing, heard nothing. In his world, there was only the body in his arms, growing colder by the second.
Then, he did something that stunned everyone into silence.
He lowered his head, ignoring the mangled face, ignoring the insurmountable taboo between uncle and niece, and kissed her bloodless lips, stained with blood and dust.
It was a tender and resolute kiss. A desperate, belated confession.
In the final moment of her life, Zoe's consciousness flared, a last flicker of light.
She couldn't feel the pain of her body, but she clearly felt Jason's scalding tears and the heartbreaking tenderness of his lips.
It was the last warmth she would ever receive in her short life.
With her last ounce of strength, she "looked" at the cold, vicious, cowardly faces. Her grandfather, her fiancé, the friends and family who had once smiled at her...
That single point of warmth, in the depths of her cold soul, was forged into the most extreme, an eternal, unyielding resolve.
Darkness finally consumed her.
But in the center of that endless dark, a cold star, burning with the flames of vengeance, was slowly beginning to glow.