The gunshot tore through the night.
For a second, Scarlet thought it was thunder.
Then warmth bloomed across her chest.
She looked down.
Blood.
Dark. Spreading. Soaking into the pale fabric of her dress.
Her breath hitched. The world tilted.
What… happened?
It wasn't until her knees buckled that she understood.
She had been shot.
Scarlet turned slowly.
Behind her, a woman stood beneath the dim cliffside lights, smoke still curling from the muzzle of the gun in her hand. The wind lifted strands of her hair, but her face remained shadowed.
Heels clicked against stone as she stepped closer.
"Still alive?" the woman said lightly.
Scarlet stared at her, vision blurring.
"It… didn't have… to be you…"
A soft laugh echoed behind the shooter.
"How naïve," another female voice said — older, refined, gentle in tone yet sharp underneath. "If it were me instead, would that have made you happier, dear?"
Scarlet's heart dropped.
She forced her head to turn.
The familiar middle-aged woman she had once respectfully called Auntie stood there, smiling.
And beside her—
A middle-aged man watched with open disgust.
"Why hasn't she died yet?" he muttered. "Shoot her again. I don't like the way she's looking at me."
Scarlet's fingers dug into the ground.
They were all here.
All of them.
The ones she trusted.
The ones who smiled at her across dinner tables.
The ones who blessed her relationship.
A shadow stepped forward.
"Darling."
That voice.
Her heart shattered before she even saw his face.
Rian crouched before her, brushing hair from her bloodstained cheek with false tenderness.
"Oh, my dear," he whispered softly. "Are you hurt? Are you in pain? Tell me who did this. I'll kill them for you."
Laughter exploded around them.
Scarlet's ears rang louder than the waterfall behind her.
The man who once held her hands beneath fireworks.
The man who chased her for two years, swearing he would protect her from the world.
The man she trusted enough to ignore the quiet warnings in her heart.
He was laughing.
She coughed. Blood spilled past her lips.
"Don't stain the ground," the older woman snapped, kicking her sharply. A stiletto heel dug into Scarlet's thigh.
Pain shot through her body.
"Scream," the shooter murmured, pressing the heel harder. "Go on. Scream."
Scarlet bit down on her lip until she tasted iron.
She would not give them that satisfaction.
Rian sighed theatrically and slid his arms beneath her.
"Let me at least give her a proper farewell."
Her head lolled against his shoulder. The scent of his cologne — once comforting — now made her stomach twist.
"Ri… an…"
Her voice barely formed his name.
The woman with the gun shot him an irritated glance.
"Drop her already."
Rian smirked.
"Don't be jealous," he teased lightly. "You shouldn't compete with a dying woman."
Jealous.
So that was it.
Scarlet let out a weak laugh that turned into another cough.
He carried her toward the edge of the cliff.
Only then did she notice how close they were to the waterfall.
Mist clung to her skin. The roar was deafening.
Her blood mixed with the damp wind.
Rian held her upright at the edge, fingers tangled in her collar.
"Any last words?" he asked softly, lips near her ear. "Since I'm such a loving boyfriend… I'll say mine."
His voice dropped to a whisper.
"I love you… to death."
The group burst into laughter again.
Something inside Scarlet snapped.
Not fear.
Not sorrow.
Rage.
She forced her fading strength into her limbs.
Her nails clawed into his sleeve.
"I'll…" her voice cracked.
Her eyes lifted.
And in that moment, something changed.
"I'LL KILL YOU ALL."
The hatred in her gaze was so raw, so consuming, that even Rian stiffened.
For a split second—
He was afraid.
His grip loosened.
Then, almost subconsciously, he pushed her.
The world disappeared beneath her feet.
Wind roared past her ears as she fell backward into the darkness.
The cliff shrank above her.
The figures leaned over the edge, silhouettes against the night sky.
Death had already claimed her when the bullet pierced her chest.
But this—
This fall—
It wasn't enough.
Not when they were still breathing.
Not when they were still laughing.
She threw her head back and laughed.
"I SWEAR—" her voice echoed against stone and water, "I'LL KILL YOU ALL!"
Her laughter blended with the waterfall's roar.
As her vision dimmed, something flickered in the sky above the cliff.
A blur.
A helicopter.
Is someone… coming for me?
She almost smiled at her own foolishness.
Darkness swallowed her whole.
—
Up above, the laughter died.
The sound of rotors cut through the night.
A helicopter descended beyond the mist, landing farther from the cliff's edge where the roar masked its arrival.
The group froze.
A tall figure stepped out.
The air shifted.
Even the wind seemed to retreat.
Ciel Volkiere.
Leader of the Darkshade Mafia.
The most dangerous man in the country.
He walked toward the cliff's edge slowly, black coat rippling behind him.
His eyes landed on the empty darkness below.
For a long moment, he said nothing.
Then—
He looked at the blood staining the ground.
Too late.
He was late.
Again.
His jaw tightened.
Behind him, armed men surrounded the stunned group.
The middle-aged man stammered, "Sir—we—we don't know what—"
Ciel's gaze lifted.
Cold.
Absolute.
"You seemed to be enjoying yourselves," he said quietly.
The shooter trembled.
The older woman fell to her knees.
"Sir, please, we—"
"You should have fun too," Ciel finished calmly.
His guards moved.
Screams tore through the night.
The same cliff that witnessed betrayal now witnessed terror.
Blame flew between them.
Pleas. Excuses. Accusations.
Ciel didn't look back.
He stood at the edge of the cliff, staring into the waterfall below.
Seven souls left this world that night.
Scarlet was not meant to die alone.
Blood was repaid tenfold.
Yet—
He felt no satisfaction.
Only a hollow, suffocating silence.
The mist rose.
The waterfall roared.
And far below—
Fate refused to let her go.
—
Because death was not the end.
It was only the beginning.