The grand library of Noor's estate exuded an air of quiet authority, its towering bookshelves and antique chandeliers a testament to centuries of wisdom. The soft rustling of papers and the faint clinking of porcelain teacups were the only sounds in the otherwise silent room.
Maya paced near the large mahogany desk, scanning through a stack of reports. "I swear, she's not human."
Zeyla, lounging in one of the velvet chairs, didn't bother looking up from her tablet. "Took you this long to figure that out?"
Maya tossed a report onto the desk. "I'm serious. Who wakes up before dawn, prays, manages orphanages, runs trillion-dollar companies, trains like an assassin, and still looks like a goddess at the end of the day?" She sighed. "Meanwhile, I misplace one document, and my whole life falls apart."
Zeyla smirked. "Maybe if you stopped worshiping her and started learning from her, you'd have fewer existential crises."
Maya shot her a glare just as the doors to the library swung open. Noor entered—calm, poised, utterly untouchable. The room, grand as it was, seemed to shrink around her presence.
Her silk gown whispered against the marble floor as she moved, her gaze unreadable. "Status update."
Maya straightened immediately. "Uh—right. The Hong Kong branch finalized the deal, the Moscow orphanage needs new security, and someone tried to bribe your head chef."
Noor arched a brow. "Bribe him?"
Zeyla glanced up from her tablet, an amused glint in her eyes. "They wanted to know your favorite dishes so they could impress you."
A slow, almost imperceptible smile curved Noor's lips. "Idiots."
Maya exhaled dramatically. "Right? At least try poisoning the tea—that would be more creative."
Noor picked up the cup Zeyla had just placed on her desk. "Who said they haven't?"
Maya's face drained of color. "... Should I call a medic?"
Zeyla snorted. Noor simply took a sip, her expression unreadable. "If they had, they'd be dead before I took the second sip."
Maya sat down, rubbing her temples. "Not sure if I should be impressed or terrified."
Before anyone could respond, the estate's security system beeped—a low, ominous sound. Zeyla checked her tablet, her easygoing demeanor vanishing. "Uh… we have visitors."
Noor remained unfazed. "Scheduled?"
"Nope." Zeyla's eyes narrowed. "And they're armed."
Maya stiffened. "Great. Another assassination attempt?"
Zeyla tapped the screen, her brow furrowing. "No… they're not attacking. They're just… standing there."
That got Noor's attention. Her eyes, sharp as a blade's edge, lifted from her documents. "How many?"
Zeyla hesitated. "Twelve."
Maya exhaled. "Well, that's either a challenge or a really dramatic delivery service."
Noor set her tea down with an air of finality and stood. Her movements were smooth, deliberate, every action carrying the weight of quiet authority. "Let's find out."
---
Estate Gates
The crisp night air hummed with tension as Noor, Maya, and Zeyla stepped onto the front courtyard. The grand iron gates loomed ahead, illuminated by the estate's golden lanterns.
Twelve figures stood beyond the gates, cloaked in darkness. Their silhouettes were imposing—tall, broad-shouldered, exuding an air of calculated menace.
Noor's security team stood in position, weapons ready, awaiting her command. But Noor lifted a hand—stand down.
She approached the gate, her silk gown trailing behind her, movements effortless yet commanding.
Maya, standing at her side, muttered, "If this is an ambush, I want a raise."
Zeyla scoffed. "If this is an ambush, you'll be too dead to enjoy it."
Maya glared at her. "Ever the optimist."
Noor halted a few steps away from the gate, her gaze unwavering. "Speak."
A man stepped forward from the group. He was older, perhaps in his late forties, with a face weathered by time but eyes sharp with intelligence. His stance was disciplined, his presence radiating the quiet authority of someone accustomed to command.
He bowed slightly. "Madam Noor."
The others behind him followed suit, lowering their heads in a gesture of respect.
Maya blinked. "Okay, not what I expected."
Noor remained impassive. "You know my name, yet I do not know yours."
The man straightened. "We are not enemies." He paused. "We are here… because you saved us once."
A flicker of something passed through Noor's eyes—so quick it was almost imperceptible.
Maya glanced between Noor and the strangers, her instincts flaring. "Saved them how?"
Noor was silent for a moment. Then, finally, she spoke. "The past does not matter. What do you want now?"
The man hesitated. "To serve."
Maya nearly choked on her own breath. "Excuse me?"
The man's gaze remained steady. "We were once lost. You found us. Now, we wish to repay the debt."
Noor's expression didn't waver, but the silence that followed was thick with unspoken weight.
Zeyla folded her arms. "Okay, so let me get this straight—you just randomly decided to show up here, armed to the teeth, and offer your loyalty?"
The man inclined his head. "We are not random. We have been watching, waiting for the right moment." His voice softened. "You gave us a second life. It is only right we dedicate it to you."
Noor exhaled softly, her gaze unreadable. "You are free men. I require no such devotion."
Another figure, a younger man this time, stepped forward. "But we do."
For the first time, there was a flicker of emotion in Noor's expression—something akin to recognition, buried deep beneath layers of control.
Maya exchanged a glance with Zeyla. This… was unexpected.
Noor studied them for a long moment, the wind rustling through the trees, carrying whispers of something ancient and unresolved.
Finally, she turned to her security team. "Let them in."
Maya's mouth fell open. "You're just letting them in? Just like that?"
Noor glanced at her, a ghost of a smile on her lips. "I've had worse houseguests."
Zeyla snickered. "That's not reassuring."
The gates creaked open, and one by one, the twelve figures stepped into Noor's domain—into a world they had sworn to serve.
As they crossed the threshold, Noor spoke once more, her voice carrying the weight of quiet authority.
"If you serve me, you serve with purpose." Her gaze swept over them. "Fail me, and I will ensure you regret it."
The leader bowed once more. "We understand."
Noor turned, leading them inside.
Maya exhaled, rubbing her temples. "Well, this is definitely in my top five weirdest nights."
Zeyla grinned. "You need a new ranking system."
Maya sighed. "I need a raise."
And with that, the night deepened, the stars bearing silent witness to the shifting tides of fate.
-----------
The wind carried the scent of rain, heavy and foreboding, as it rustled through the towering trees surrounding Noor's estate. The night stretched endlessly, a shroud of silence settling over the vast land, save for the distant rumble of thunder that warned of an approaching storm.
Sanlang stood in the open balcony of his penthouse, staring into the dark horizon, his mind restless. The city below shimmered with life, a stark contrast to the void he felt gnawing inside him. His thoughts, despite his attempts to steer them elsewhere, kept circling back to Noor.
The way she moved—graceful, untouchable. The way her eyes, deep pools of unreadable sorrow, held a weight that he could never decipher. The way her presence commanded the air around her, like a force beyond mortal grasp.
Sanlang ran a hand through his tousled hair, frustration tightening his jaw. He had thought that time would dull the ache she left in his chest, that distance would help him forget. But every passing day only solidified her image in his mind.
That night at the gala still haunted him—the moment he saw her, standing in that ethereal silk dress, her presence alone enough to send his pulse racing. And yet, she had been as indifferent as ever, her gaze brushing past him like he was nothing more than another fleeting shadow in her world.
A sharp knock on his door pulled him from his thoughts. His assistant entered, hesitant. "Sir, there's been a change in the script for your upcoming film. The director wants to discuss it with you."
Sanlang barely registered the words. "Not now," he muttered, turning back to the cityscape.
The assistant hesitated before nodding and exiting quietly.
He exhaled sharply. His career, his fame, the countless admirers who would do anything to be in Noor's place—none of it mattered. Noor had ruined him. He could have anyone, yet the only woman he desired remained painfully out of reach.
His fingers tightened around the railing.
Noor.
He wasn't going to let her continue haunting him like this. He needed answers. He needed to know why she still had this hold over him, why she had become an obsession he couldn't shake.
And there was only one way to get them.
Sanlang grabbed his coat, determination hardening his features.
Tonight, he would find her. And this time, he wouldn't leave without the truth.
The city streets blurred past him as Sanlang drove, his hands gripping the wheel with a quiet intensity. The storm had yet to break, but the air was thick with anticipation, mirroring the turmoil within him. Noor's estate was not a place one could simply walk into, but he had long given up on rationality.
Tonight, he would face her. He would demand answers.
The estate loomed ahead, its grandeur both intimidating and isolating. Tall iron gates guarded the entrance, and a quiet, almost eerie stillness settled over the vast property. He had been here before, yet the weight of this place felt heavier tonight, as if the very walls knew he did not belong.
As he stepped out of his car, two guards appeared as if from the shadows, their gazes sharp and unwavering.
"State your business."
Sanlang exhaled, meeting their eyes with quiet defiance. "I need to see Noor."
The guards exchanged looks before one of them stepped forward. "Madam Noor does not receive unexpected visitors."
Sanlang's lips curled into a wry smile. "She never expects me, yet I always seem to find my way in."
The guard's expression remained impassive. "Leave."
Sanlang had expected this. He wasn't naive enough to think Noor's world would be easy to breach, but he also knew he was past the point of being dismissed like a wandering guest.
"Or what?" He took a deliberate step forward.
In the next second, the other guard moved. A flash of steel, a warning strike meant to intimidate. But Sanlang was faster. He sidestepped smoothly, catching the man's wrist before twisting it just enough to make him falter.
A sharp whistle cut through the air.
"Enough."
Sanlang's grip loosened immediately.
Maya stood at the top of the steps, arms crossed, unimpressed. The flickering lantern light cast a sharp glow over her features, highlighting the exasperation in her gaze.
"I swear, you have the worst sense of timing," she sighed, descending toward him.
Sanlang smirked. "You wound me, Maya."
"No, you wound yourself by showing up unannounced like a reckless fool," she shot back, eyes narrowing. "You think this is a film set? That you can just waltz in whenever you feel like confronting your tragic fate or something?"
Sanlang chuckled, shaking his head. "I see you've been spending too much time around Noor. The sarcasm suits you."
Maya scoffed. "Trust me, I'm nowhere near her league."
Sanlang's gaze flickered past her, searching. "Where is she?"
Maya hesitated, glancing toward the dimly lit corridor behind her.
"Busy," she said finally. "And not in the mood for theatrics."
"I'm not here for theatrics," he countered. "I just need to talk to her."
Maya studied him for a long moment. He looked different tonight—tense, restless, as if something was clawing at him from within.
"She won't see you," she said, but her voice had lost its bite.
Sanlang ran a hand down his face. "Then I'll wait."
Maya sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Tell me something I don't know."
With a reluctant shake of her head, she turned back toward the house. "Fine. But don't say I didn't warn you."
Sanlang followed her inside, ignoring the prickle of unease running down his spine.
Something felt different tonight.
Something was coming.
And for the first time in years, he wasn't sure if he was ready for it.
---
Sanlang stood in the dimly lit corridor, his breath shallow, pulse unsteady. The estate was as he remembered—elegant yet cold, its vast halls echoing with silence. Every step he took felt heavier, the weight of unspoken words pressing against his chest.
Maya led him toward Noor's private quarters, but she halted just before the carved wooden doors. She turned, her expression unreadable.
"You won't get what you're looking for," she murmured.
Sanlang met her gaze, his own unreadable. "I don't even know what I'm looking for."
Maya studied him for a long moment before stepping aside. "Then I guess you'll find out soon enough."
He pushed the door open.
Inside, Noor stood near the tall windows, her back turned to him, moonlight streaming over her silhouette. She was dressed in flowing black silk, her hair cascading down her back, a stark contrast to the pale glow illuminating her.
She didn't turn around.
"I knew you would come," she said softly.
Sanlang exhaled sharply. "Then why didn't you stop me?"
Noor finally turned, her gaze calm, unreadable. "Would you have listened?"
Silence stretched between them, thick with the weight of the breeding darkness.He had spent years chasing ghosts, trying to understand the pull she had on him. And now, standing before her, he felt as if he were standing on the edge of a precipice—one step forward, and he would be lost forever.
His jaw tightened. "Why do I remember things I shouldn't?"
Noor didn't answer immediately. Instead, she walked toward the ornate tea set on the table, gracefully pouring a cup. She held it out to him, her hands steady. "Drink."
Sanlang hesitated before accepting it. The tea was fragrant, the warmth seeping into his fingers. But he barely tasted it. His eyes never left hers.
"Noor," he said, his voice rough with frustration. "Tell me the truth."
She tilted her head, her expression unreadable. "What are you seeking, Sanlang?"
His grip on the cup tightened. "What are those dreams? Why do I feel like —like I've lost something I can't remember?Why does it feel that you are hiding something?"
A flicker of something—pain, perhaps—passed through her eyes. But it was gone before he could be sure.
"You ask questions," she murmured, setting her own cup down, "that you may not be ready to hear the answers to."
Sanlang clenched his fists. "Don't do this. Don't speak in riddles."
Noor stepped closer, her presence overwhelming. "And what if I told you?" she whispered. "Would you believe me? Or would you call it madness?"
Sanlang swallowed hard. His heart pounded in his chest.
"I would believe anything if it came from you," he admitted, voice raw.
Noor's gaze softened—but only for a fleeting second. Then, she stepped back, creating distance once more.
"You should leave, Sanlang," she said quietly. "I don't have what you seek."
Rage, sorrow, and desperation clashed within him. He had come here for answers, but all she offered was more mystery, more distance.
And yet… he couldn't walk away. Not now.
His voice dropped to a whisper.
"But there is nothing you can't find.Help me Noor."
She stilled.
His eyes burned into hers, demanding, pleading.
Noor didn't move, didn't blink. The tension between them was suffocating.
Finally, she spoke.
"I can't."
Sanlang let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding.
Something dark was waiting.
And soon, it would rise again.
Noor's words hung in the air, quiet yet absolute.
Sanlang felt something inside him crack, an ache spreading through his chest, unbearable in its weight. He should have felt relief—she hadn't denied it. She hadn't told him his memories were false. And yet, the distance between them remained, as vast as the ocean between two shores.
His voice was hoarse. "Then why are you pushing me away?"
Noor turned her face slightly, her profile bathed in the soft moonlight. she murmured. "You're not meant to hold on."
Sanlang took a step closer. "Who decided that?"
She finally met his gaze, and for the first time, there was something vulnerable in her eyes. "I did."
His breath caught.
Noor—who commanded empires, who bent the world to her will—had chosen this? But why his thoughts swirled around.
His hands trembled at his sides. "Then you're cruel," he whispered.
Noor's lips parted slightly, her fingers tightening around the edge of the table. But she didn't deny it.
Sanlang let out a sharp breath. "You are playing with me .What am I a toy?," he said bitterly, watching for a reaction. "Didn't you?"
Noor flinched—so slightly that no one else would have noticed. But he did.
The silence between them was suffocating.
Sanlang swallowed hard. "Was I just another piece in your world, Noor?" His voice was lower now, more dangerous. "Another servant under your rule?"
Noor's eyes darkened. "Don't."
He took another step. "Why not?"
She turned away. "Because you don't know what you're asking."
Sanlang's hands clenched into fists. He knew. He had always known. The memories weren't complete, but the pieces were fitting together. The whispers in his mind, the fragmented flashes of the past—of a face, a voice, a touch.
A night drenched in moonlight. A vow spoken in quiet agony. A promise that had been broken.
Sanlang exhaled shakily. "Then tell me, Noor. Tell me everything you know."
Noor remained still. The silk of her dress barely moved, as if she had become stone itself.
He reached out, his fingers hovering just above hers. He had touched her before. He knew he had. And yet now, she felt further away than ever.
His voice was raw, desperate. "I am already burning, Noor. If you don't want me to remember, then at least—"
Noor moved then, so fast he barely had time to react.
In an instant, she was in front of him, her fingers gripping the lapels of his coat. Before he could think, before he could breathe, she pulled him forward—
And kissed him.
Sanlang's mind shattered.
The world around them ceased to exist. The walls, the moonlight, the heavy silence—it all disappeared in the press of her lips against his. It wasn't gentle. It wasn't soft. It was fire and fury, a storm breaking open after years of silence.
Sanlang responded before he could think, his hands flying to her waist, pulling her closer, desperate to hold onto her before she vanished again. Her scent, the warmth of her body against his—it was all too much, and yet not enough.
She was his in that moment.
But just as suddenly as she had kissed him, Noor pulled away.
Sanlang barely had time to open his eyes before her fingers pressed against his forehead—
A sharp pain pierced through his skull.
Sanlang gasped, stumbling back as his vision blurred. The pain was unbearable, searing through his mind like white-hot fire.
His knees hit the ground. His fingers clawed at the floor.
And then—
Everything was a blur.
Sanlang's breath hitched. His eyes widened in horror, in realization, in something he had no name for.
The shattered pieces were coming on front of his eyes but those but just broken shards cutting through his being even deeper .
Noor stood above him, her expression unreadable.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
And as he watched her, his body was drowning in deep slumber and then the world turned black.