"Watch where you're going, brat."

A middle-aged man grumbled as he adjusted his jacket, glaring at a boy who had just bumped into him.

"I'm so sorry, sir," the boy said, scrambling to his feet. He bowed repeatedly, his voice trembling with apology, before darting away as fast as his legs could carry him.

The man sighed, shaking his head as he watched the boy's retreating figure. "Poor kid," he muttered to himself.

Meanwhile, the boy kept running, his heart pounding in his chest. His eyes darted to the bus pulling away from the stop ahead. He skidded to a halt, frustration bubbling over as he clenched his fists.

"Damn it, late again," he muttered under his breath. He let out a shaky sigh and slumped onto the bench at the bus stop, running a hand through his unruly dark hair.

His name was Adam Dhark, a 19-year-old with a lot on his shoulders. He'd graduated high school three years ago, but dreams of college were far behind him. Life didn't leave room for those. As the eldest sibling, he had to care for his 8-year-old twin brother and sister, Alfred and Aria, after their parents passed away. No relatives had stepped up to help, so Adam stepped in, using what little his parents had saved to keep his siblings in school.

As Adam sat there, staring at the pavement, the next bus pulled up. He jumped to his feet, hurried inside, and found a seat, letting his thoughts wander as the city passed by outside the window.

---

Elsewhere, at a bustling restaurant, the sound of clattering pans and hurried footsteps filled the air.

"Where the hell is Adam?" a sharp voice cut through the noise.

The speaker was a woman in her late twenties, stepping out from the kitchen with her arms crossed. Her piercing gray eyes swept over the room, landing on a group of young waitresses who were wiping sweat from their brows. She was tall, with a sleek figure that was as intimidating as her demeanor. Her jet-black hair was tied tightly into a bun, not a single strand out of place. Her pale complexion only made her crimson lipstick stand out more, giving her a striking, almost regal look.

The staff called her Gloria, though most knew her by another name—the Ice Queen. With her sharp features and colder-than-winter attitude, nobody dared to cross her. Her tailored black suit fit her like armor, and her polished heels clicked ominously against the floor as she moved. She rarely smiled, and when she did, it was reserved for customers, never her staff.

"He's late again, isn't he?" Gloria said, her tone biting as she zeroed in on one of the waitresses.

The girl, barely holding herself together, stammered, "I… I, um…"

"You, what?" Gloria snapped, raising an eyebrow. "I asked you a question, and I expect an answer, not stuttering. Last I checked, you could speak just fine."

The waitress froze, her face turning red as the other staff members avoided eye contact with Gloria. The Ice Queen didn't wait for a response. She simply scoffed and muttered under her breath, "Useless," before striding back toward the kitchen, her heels echoing in the silence she left behind.

As soon as the kitchen door swung shut behind Gloria, the front door of the restaurant opened, and Adam stumbled in, breathing heavily.

"You're in for it now, kid," the oldest waitress, Becca, said as she walked up to him. But her scolding tone softened as she patted his head gently. "Don't push yourself too hard, Adam. You need to take care of yourself too, you know."

Adam managed a small smile. "I hear you, Becca, but if I take a break, who's going to look after my siblings?"

Becca sighed, shaking her head as Adam hurried toward the kitchen.

The moment he stepped inside, Gloria's icy glare locked onto him.

"So, what's your excuse today? And while you're at it, why not come up with one for tomorrow too?" she said sharply, her gray eyes narrowing as she crossed her arms.

Adam let out a nervous chuckle, but it died quickly under her glare. Scratching the back of his head, he said, "I had to take my siblings to school, and I missed the bus. That's why I'm late, Madam."

Gloria tapped her fingers on the counter, clearly unimpressed. "That's not a good enough excuse, Adam. You need to plan better. Put them on the school bus. That's what it's there for."

She sighed, her stern expression softening just a little. "Look, I understand your situation, and I've let it slide today. But don't expect me to be this lenient next time. People are starting to think I'm playing favorites."

"Yes, Madam," Adam said quickly, bowing slightly before making his way to the changing room to get into his work uniform.

Gloria shook her head as she turned back to her work, muttering under her breath, "That boy's going to give me gray hairs."

As quickly as the day started, it was over for Adam. He was in the changing room, pulling off his work uniform, ready to head home.

Just then, Anita, the waitress who'd been stuttering earlier under Gloria's glare, walked in. She froze in the doorway, her cheeks instantly turning bright red.

Adam's back was to her, revealing lean, well-defined muscles that moved with every slight shift of his body. His broad shoulders and toned arms looked like they belonged to someone who worked out regularly, though his slim waist suggested he didn't have much time to eat properly. His skin had a warm, sun-kissed tone, and there was a faint scar on his left shoulder, probably from some childhood mishap.

When Adam turned around, wiping the sweat off his face with a towel, Anita's eyes widened slightly. His chest was firm, his abs subtly showing with each breath, not overly bulky but enough to catch anyone's attention.

"Uh… I—um… sorry!" Anita stammered, covering her face with her hands as she spun around to leave.

Adam raised an eyebrow, confused. "Anita? You good?"

"Y-yeah! I just—wrong room!" she squeaked, rushing out as fast as her legs could carry her.

Adam shook his head, chuckling to himself as he pulled on his shirt. "Weird."

With that, Adam left the changing room, waving goodbye to the others as he stepped out of the restaurant. The cool evening air hit him, and for a moment, he sighed, letting the weight of the day ease off his shoulders.

Then it happened.

Bang! Bang!

The sharp crack of gunfire echoed through the street, followed by a scream that pierced the night.

Adam froze, his eyes widening in shock, but before he could react, a searing pain tore through his chest.

"Ugh…" His breath hitched as his legs gave out beneath him. He stumbled forward, his hand clutching his shirt, now wet with blood, before collapsing onto the pavement.

The world around him blurred—shouts, running footsteps, distant screams. Everything was spinning.

He tried to speak, but no words came. His vision dimmed, the streetlights above growing faint as the pain spread.

And then, there was nothing.