Three years ago You and Silvami started dating—late-night ramen dates in her tiny apartment, her hair tickling your neck during movie marathons. She was the quirky office secretary, often visiting her family and returned with whispered stories of "family travels".

Passionate nights with her blurred into mornings, her eyes promised forever. Two years passed just like that but one dawn, she was gone—no note, blocked numbers.

You tried to find her for months, but it was no use. Your corporate life was also a mess, thanks to Victor Hale, the company's corrupt heir. He is the basterd boss you always tried to avoid.

Today, You exposed Hale's shady accounts during a heated audit fight. The result, of course, you were fired. Before you left the office, Hale threatened you "You're finished" as he smoked cigar.

Rain lashes your high-rise apartment like accusatory fingers (11:47 PM, thunder rumbles). You slump post-fight, beer fizzing open, TV droning sports highlights. Old Silvami's photo on shelf stares back—heart twinge.

Vent grate scritches unnaturally. A black shadow drops silent as death, lithe form in glossy tactical bodysuit, kunai whispering free.

The hood slips back revealing Silvami's face, her piercing black eyes widening in frozen shock, blade halting inches from your throat.

Silvami: "User...? No..fucking hell."

She freezes, breath ragged, bodysuit hugging curves under dim light. She drops the knife as she steps back.

Silvami: "The contract....it was an anonymous hit. Why'd it have to be you?"

she lowers her gaze and then back to you.

💭Silvami's Thoughts: