The penthouse was far too quiet for a man at the center of a scandal.
No running water.
No wine.
Not even the flicker of light,it was all dark.
Just moonlight, slanting in like cold silk across the floor, and Sanlang standing at its edge—motionless, barefoot, shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest.
His green eyes stared out over the city.
There were voices far below. Reporters. Cameras. Even drones buzzing near the tower.
Unable to hear them he was somewhere else.
His reflection shimmered faintly in the glass, silver strands of moonlight catching on his eyes—turning them pale... otherworldly.
Then—
Knocking.
Followed by the cautious click of heels.
"Sir?"
It was Ms. Li.
Clad in sleek grey silk, tablet in hand, nerves barely masked under her professional poise.
"There's a press flood downstairs. They're not leaving without a statement. You need to show your face before the damage spins further."
He didn't answer.
"Sir, please. If you just go down and say it's all lies like last time, we can fix this. It's not the first scandal you've clawed out of—"
She stopped.
Because she saw his eyes.
Glinting Silver.
Like moons trapped in glass.
"Sanlang…?"
His name didn't stir him.
She stepped closer, the mockery still laced in her tone:
"Come on. You're not exactly innocent, right? Just flash a smile and make them forget. That's your gift, isn't it?"
That was when it hit him.
Jasmine.
Faint.
Her scent.
Something snapped.
His hand moved like lightning.
He grabbed Ms. Li by the throat with one single hand and lifted her clean off the ground.
Her tablet clattered.
Air left her lungs in a choking gasp.
His eyes were glowing like moonlit steel.
"S-sir—!"
"Say her name!"
His fingers trembled — from restraint.
Veins bulged along his arms, a black shimmer crawling like ink under his skin.
The scent—it was still there—dancing on air like she had passed through the room just moments ago.
"She was here," he muttered. "She was here and I let her go."
Ms. Li clawed at his wrist, legs kicking helplessly—
Then—
The door flung open.
"SANLANG!"
Yilan.
Soaked in rain, chest heaving, her voice sharp as the crack of thunder behind her.
The moment she screamed his name—
Lightning split the sky.
And Sanlang dropped Ms. Li.
She collapsed, coughing violently, crawling backward on trembling hands.
He stumbled back, pressing his palms against his ears.
"No—no no no—I didn't—what—what did I—what did I do—"
He looked up at Ms. Li, his voice suddenly broken, a child's fear behind the monster's face.
"I'm sorry. I—I don't know—I—you're not her—"
"Sanlang." Yilan moved between them.
But Ms. Li was already standing, trembling but with fury in her eyes.
"You need help."
Her voice cracked—half pity, half disgust.
"Don't ever touch me again."
She straightened her blouse, wiped the blood from her lip.
"I've filed a request to meet with Ms. Noor," she added, cold and sharp. "She deserves to know what's becoming of you."
Sanlang flinched.
The scent bloomed again.
Jasmine.
His head snapped up.
"Noor?"
He moved faster than she could flinch—
Grabbing her wrist.
Then her chin.
He held her face, shaking.
"Where is she? You've seen her? Tell me!"
Ms. Li's breath hitched.
His eyes—green again—but blazing.
"Let her go!" Yilan shoved herself between them.
Sanlang stumbled back, shaking like a man coming down from madness.
Ms. Li left with a bitter glance, voice low:
"I'll take care of the work. You take care of him... before he burns everything down."
The door slammed.
And outside—
The storm broke.
Sheets of rain poured from the sky like the heavens had cracked.
Below the tower, reporters scattered, screaming into mics:
"Sudden electrical surge—lightning hit the lower plaza—"
"In the middle of summer? This wasn't forecasted!"
"It's like the sky went mad!"
Inside, Yilan turned to Sanlang.
He was no longer standing.
He'd collapsed again by the window.
"sanlang... what happened?"
He sat in the half-darkness like a man crucified by silence.
He was shaking.
His bones trembled from within.
"They're barking down there like starved dogs," he said hoarsely, not looking up. "Scandal. Lies. Some washed-up actress, a recording, —I don't remember. Maybe I did it. Maybe I didn't."
He laughed, softly—like a man who had just been sentenced to death and forgot what for.
"But it doesn't matter. None of it matters."
"Then what does, Sanlang?" Yilan whispered.
He slowly turned his head. His eyes were bloodshot, glowing faintly green under the moonlight, but the green had begun to bleed silver around the edges—metallic, eerie.
He looked possessed.
"There's something inside me. It's not guilt. It's not shame. It's…" he touched his chest, confused, "grief—but from where ?Something that never left. I can feel her slipping through me. Again. Again."
He slammed his fist into the wall.
"You don't understand. I felt her, Yilan. I breathed her in—jasmine. It was hers. Not memory. Not perfume. Her."
He looked like he might weep, or scream.
Instead, he dropped to his knees and clutched the floor like it was about to float away from him.
"Why does she keep leaving? Why does she always—why can't she stay this time?"
"She didn't leave you," Yilan said, stepping closer, gently. "She never does. She's just not... reachable right now."
"Reachable?" he whispered, like the word insulted him. "I'd crawl through fire. Through hell. Through a thousand storms—just to touch the edge of her breath. And yet I sit here… in silk sheets and glass towers, like a dog they've forgotten to kill."
Lightning split the sky.
The moment he broke.
Thunder cracked.
Windows shuddered.
Downstairs, reporters screamed as rain came down like judgment. Cameras died. Wires sparked. The sky turned black like ink spilled from heaven.
"She sent them," Yilan said quickly, afraid he'd break the world with one more breath. "Her estate. Her security team. They're the ones keeping the press back."
He froze.
His breathing hitched.
"Say that again."
"Noor's estate. Not ours. She's still—watching. From somewhere."
His eyes shimmered. The green swallowed the silver again.
"She… knows?"
"Yes."
A beat.
"She hasn't forgotten me?"
"Not even for a moment."
He closed his eyes. A single tear traced down.
"Then why does it feel that ...I....I..lost her."
"No," Yilan whispered. "But if you keep doing this, you'll lose yourself. And when she comes back… there'll be nothing left to return to."
He didn't speak.
Just sat, curled, like a man mourning the dream of a life he never got to live.
Yilan lingered by the door, hand on the knob.
"I'll handle the rest. The world. The lies. Ms. Li. Everything."
She shut the door softly behind her.
He didn't move.
And outside, the rain kept falling like the sky was mourning, too.
---
He wasn't asleep.
He wasn't awake.
He was somewhere in between —
and the air here reeked of metal, moonlight, and death.
He stood at the edge of a cliff. Below, nothing but an endless void — black, writhing, almost alive. The sky above was starless. The world bled grayscale.
And there, across the chasm — her.
Suspended in midair.
Eyes blindfolded.
Body pierced by a thousand silver swords, each one slowly, slowly threading through her flesh.
Blood seeped through the fabric of her dress — but she made no sound. Her mouth was open, her lips shaking as if whispering something. Her arms were spread like broken wings. Her feet never touched ground.
"Noor," Sanlang whispered. His voice cracked like ice.
And then—
He saw himself.
Standing a few feet ahead.
At the very edge of the cliff.
Smiling.
Watching her fall.
"No—" Sanlang gasped.
He reached forward, but his body would not move.
His other self — that monstrous twin, — just tilted his head, watching Noor descend deeper, slower, swallowed by the abyss.
Her blood trailed like comet fire behind her.
The swords twisted.
Her face flickered in and out — blurry, soft, inhumanly still.
"Why are you watching this—!" Sanlang screamed at himself.
But the other him never turned. Never looked back. He simply watched Noor die.
As if this was the only way to keep her beautiful.
As if letting her go was mercy.
"No!" Sanlang roared, falling to his knees.
"Don't you dare! Don't you f***ing dare leave her there!"
But his hands passed through the ground. He was a ghost in his own mind.
He was a prisoner to this vision. And the more he fought it, the more the smile on his double's face twisted — tender, reverent, almost loving.
"She chose it," a voice echoed.
"She walked into the blade, Sanlang. For you."
"She said you were the only place she ever felt safe," the other him murmured. "So I gave her peace. Isn't that what you wanted?"
And Noor, before she vanished, whispered — not to him, but to the wind:
"If someone had to be destroyed…
…it should be me."
And then — she fell.
No scream. No fight. Just silence
And the sound of her heart breaking somewhere in the dark.
---
He woke with a scream that tore through his throat.
Sweat soaked him. Blood on his lip where he had bitten himself.
The windows were open.
The storm was gone.
Only the moonlight remained —
and the bitter scent of jasmine.
He whispered to the shadows.
"What am I becoming…?"