The sound of breathing echoed softly in the void.
"Phew… phew…"
It was the gentle breath of a young woman, her chest rising and falling in the rhythm of deep sleep. Her lips, shaped like a delicate heart, glowed faintly pink against the pallor of her skin. Her complexion was white and luminous, almost too flawless to be real, as if her entire being had been sculpted from porcelain. There was a stillness to her beauty, a fragile grace that seemed to hover on the border between dream and reality. What was most striking, however, was her hair and lashes—both as white as freshly fallen snow. They shimmered faintly in the light, giving her the appearance of a celestial being, a fallen angel resting in silence.
"Mm…"
Her lashes trembled, damp with lingering traces of dream. She shifted faintly in her sleep, and the braid that had been draped neatly over her shoulder swayed with the motion. Slowly, reluctantly, her eyes began to open. The world that greeted her was heavy, her body sluggish and weary. Every movement demanded effort. She lifted one pale hand and pressed it gently against her cheek, forcing herself upright, though her limbs ached with a strange weakness.
"What… what is this place? Where am I?"
Her voice cracked with disbelief, trembling with fear she could not name.
Around her was no ordinary room, no landscape she recognized. She was surrounded by water—clear, crystalline water that did not drown her, but suspended her in an impossible space. All around, great crystalline formations jutted upward, glowing softly with a light of their own. They reflected across the glassy surface beneath her feet, scattering rainbow fragments that shimmered in the air. The place was dreamlike, dazzling and suffocating at once, too beautiful to be real, too strange to be safe.
She lowered her gaze to the water at her feet. The liquid was so clear that it mirrored her reflection perfectly. What she saw there made her breath catch.
A young girl stared back at her. She was beautiful, her braid draped neatly to one side, her body small and slender, clothed in the lively uniform of a high school student. The eyes were bright with innocence, the features delicate with youth.
"No… This isn't me now… This is me in high school… How is that possible?"
Her voice faltered, the words stumbling out, unable to hold against the disbelief twisting in her chest.
Before she could gather her thoughts, a glimmer of movement passed before her eyes. A butterfly—unlike any butterfly she had ever seen—drifted lazily into her vision. Its wings glowed with a luminous green light, casting shimmering fragments of color onto the crystalline surface. It was ethereal, otherworldly, as though born of pure magic.
Her heart lurched.
"Wait!"
Without thinking, she pushed herself forward, her feet echoing softly against the water's surface as she chased it. Her braid flew behind her as she ran, her breath quickening.
"Don't go! Wait for me!"
But the butterfly remained elusive, always just out of reach. She ran and ran, her lungs burning, her steps growing heavy.
"Hah… hah… Where… where did it go…"
Her chest heaved as exhaustion overtook her. Her legs weakened, and she sank to her knees, trembling with fatigue.
And then—before she could draw another breath—the world shifted once more.
The crystalline water dissolved. The glowing formations faded into darkness.
When her eyes adjusted, she found herself standing amidst a bustling street alive with sound and color.
It was a festival. Lanterns hung in the air, hundreds, thousands of them, glowing with warm golden light. The night sky was filled with the flicker of flames as lanterns floated upward, carrying with them the whispered prayers of countless souls. Music filled the air—drums, laughter, chatter—all merging into one overwhelming harmony.
Her heart tightened. The beauty of it was breathtaking, yet it carried with it a pang of nostalgia she could not explain.
And then she saw them.
Not far from where she stood, among the sea of festival-goers, was a couple. They were holding a lantern together, releasing it into the sky. The girl was radiant, her smile luminous, her eyes shimmering with hope. The boy beside her stood tall and confident, older by a year perhaps, his presence both strong and gentle. An earring glinted at his ear. His dark hair framed a face that was strikingly handsome, his crimson eyes gleaming like rubies in the lantern light.
Her body froze.
"That's… me. That girl is me. And beside her…"
Her lips trembled.
"…Han Phong…"
The name escaped in a broken whisper, heavy with longing and pain. She staggered forward, her arm outstretched, her eyes brimming with desperate sorrow.
"Han Phong!"
But before her hand could reach him, before her voice could bridge the distance, the scene fractured. The lanterns dimmed. The crowd dissolved. The festival was gone.
"No! Don't! Please don't disappear!"
Her cry echoed into the void, but there was nothing left to answer her.
And then came a voice. Deep, calm, cold.
"Humans are not so kind."
She whipped around.
There he was again—Han Phong. But the world around them had shifted.
The air was filled with the crisp scent of autumn. Golden leaves drifted lazily from unseen trees, carpeting the ground with a blanket of amber. The sky was muted, gray and melancholy, the silence broken only by the rustling of leaves.
He stood there, headphones slung over his ears, his face shadowed with restrained anger. His crimson eyes bored into her, unyielding, merciless.
Her throat tightened. "No… it isn't like that, I—"
Her words broke off as she turned instinctively.
Behind her stood another figure.
Her heart froze.
It was herself—or rather, a broken reflection of herself. The figure was drenched, hair plastered to her face, her skin pallid, her lips blue. Wounds marred her delicate features. Her body trembled faintly, fragile and pitiful.
Han Phong's gaze sharpened. His voice was a blade.
"You think you are truly an angel?"
The broken reflection lowered her head, silent, shoulders trembling.
The real Tuyet Mai—watching, helpless—shook her head violently, her eyes brimming with tears.
"No! That wasn't me! At that time, I—"
SPLASH.
Before she could finish, the ground gave way. Her body plunged into freezing water. Darkness swallowed her whole.
She struggled, flailing, bubbles bursting upward from her lips.
"Glug… glug…"
She couldn't swim. Panic clawed at her chest, but even as the icy water closed around her, exhaustion drowned out the fear.
"I'm so tired… I can't fight anymore… Just let me go…"
Her body went still, surrendering to the current.
And then, through the crushing silence, came a voice.
"I will turn the world upside down to find you. Even if I die, I will drag your body back from the abyss."
Her heart lurched.
Her eyes widened, her chest convulsing with a sob.
That voice—Han Phong's voice. The vow that had once tethered her soul. The memory of his words echoed through her, searing, unbearable.
"What… what did you say?" she whispered.
And then—
"Miss? Are you alright?"
The voice was different now. Warmer. Softer.
Her eyes fluttered open.
She was back in the real world.
The steady hum of engines filled her ears. She blinked, realizing she was seated in the cushioned seat of an airplane. A flight attendant leaned down, offering her a kind smile.
"You seemed to be dreaming. Do you need anything?"
Golden light spilled through the oval window, touching her face with morning warmth. She exhaled slowly, relief washing over her like a tide.
"No… thank you. I'm fine."
The attendant nodded and moved on.
She pressed her palm against her chest, feeling the wild rhythm of her heartbeat begin to steady. She glanced out the window, where clouds rolled endlessly beneath them.
"One more hour," she murmured. "Just one more hour until landing."
Her name was Vuong Tuyet Mai. She was twenty-three years old. Four years ago, she had left this country behind to study abroad.
Now, she was returning.
The airport buzzed with life, a ceaseless tide of travelers. The smell of roasted coffee beans mingled with the faint tang of jet fuel. Announcements echoed overhead in clipped voices, weaving through the sound of rolling suitcases and hurried footsteps.
Tuyet Mai navigated it with quiet poise. Her white hair shimmered under the fluorescent lights, her porcelain skin drawing the gaze of passersby. She walked with a measured calm, as if untouched by the chaos surrounding her.
Finding a quiet café tucked to the side, she slipped inside and claimed a table near the window. The air smelled of freshly ground coffee and warm pastries. She ordered a simple drink, then drew her laptop from her bag, flipping it open. The glow of the screen illuminated her features, casting delicate shadows across her cheekbones. She focused, her eyes narrowing slightly as she scrolled through documents and articles.
Her beauty was striking. The contrast of her snowy hair against her pale skin made her look almost ethereal, as though she had stepped out of a painting. Heads turned. Some stared openly, others tried to hide their glances, but all were drawn by the quiet magnetism she carried. She ignored it all, her attention firmly on her work.
"Tuyet Mai."
The voice was familiar. Warm. Steady.
She looked up, a smile touching her lips.
Standing before her was Mac Tu.
Once her senior in university, he had grown into a man of commanding presence. His golden hair gleamed in the café light, his dark eyes calm yet deep. His tailored suit hinted at quiet wealth, his posture radiating authority. But there was warmth in his gaze as he looked at her, a warmth that had not changed since the days they had known each other.
"Sorry I'm late," he said, stepping closer. "I came to pick you up."
She shook her head lightly, lips curving into a gentle smile. "It's alright. I just got here. I was catching up on some research."
"Research?" His brow lifted, surprise flickering across his features. "You've just returned, and you're already working?"
She laughed softly. "Not exactly. I was reading about KOT. I thought it might be wise to understand the company better before I meet them."
He chuckled, shaking his head slightly. "KOT… They've risen like a storm. Everyone knows the name now. But no one has ever seen their president. It's as if he doesn't exist."
As though it were habit, he draped an arm casually around her shoulders. The gesture was intimate, familiar, natural. Together, they looked like a perfect pair, their elegance so striking that heads began to turn. A few people lifted their phones, snapping discreet photographs of the two of them standing so close. To an outsider, they could easily be mistaken for lovers.
But Tuyet Mai's thoughts were elsewhere. She lowered her gaze, her voice soft.
"Yes. That's what troubles me. According to everything I've found, KOT has become a global empire in less than two years. The president—whoever he is—remains completely hidden. And yet… everything points to him being the key to what I need to accomplish."
She turned her eyes to Mac Tu, her expression filled with quiet hope. "Do you have any idea who he might be?"
For a moment, he fell silent. His gaze shifted away, as though deep in thought. Then, with a small smile, he looked back at her.
"When you meet him, you'll know."
Her heart sank. The faint spark of hope in her chest dimmed. She let out a long sigh, disappointment heavy in her voice. "Haizz…"
Meanwhile, at MK Company—where Tuyet Mai had begun working not long ago—the atmosphere was electric.
Employees hurried about, adjusting every detail. Papers rustled, phones rang, voices barked orders. The air was tense, thick with urgency. Today was no ordinary day. Today, they were expecting a guest unlike any other.
The president of KOT himself.
Director Truong stood in the center of the chaos, his voice sharp as he directed his staff. "Everything must be perfect. Understand? We are welcoming someone who could change our company's future. No mistakes!"
The workers obeyed, rushing to polish every corner, prepare every document, ensure every protocol was flawless.
And then, precisely on time, the low, commanding purr of an engine rumbled outside. Heads turned toward the windows.
A Rolls-Royce Phantom VIII pulled smoothly to a stop before the building. Sleek, gleaming, the very image of luxury and power. Its presence alone spoke volumes.
The door opened.
A man stepped out.
He was tall, his frame broad and commanding, his suit perfectly tailored. Every step he took was deliberate, measured, heavy with authority. His aura was cold, unapproachable, the air around him tightening with his presence. His face was chiseled, his expression unreadable, his crimson eyes glinting faintly beneath the shadow of his lashes.
It was Han Phong.
MK Company had prepared a private entrance for him, ensuring that no outsiders would glimpse his arrival. To the world, he remained a mystery, a figure cloaked in secrecy.
But here, in this moment, he was real.
And for the first time in years, fate was drawing the threads together.