The neon glow of Busan's nightscape spilled over rain-slicked streets, casting hues of electric pink, cobalt blue, and deep purple onto the faces of the throngs gathered for the annual street festival. Lanterns swayed gently overhead, their paper shells flickering in the breeze, while the hum of music, laughter, and chatter filled the humid air.
Arjun Mehra moved with measured calm through the crowd, his sharp eyes constantly scanning, analyzing. Years of military training had ingrained in him a habit: trust no one, expect the worst. Even here, surrounded by celebration and light, his senses were primed for danger.
Meera, his wife and the mother of their unborn child, was just a few steps ahead. Her face lit by the colorful glow; she smiled wide at a group of performers juggling flaming torches.
"Wait up, Meera," Arjun called softly, his voice threaded with both tenderness and an underlying edge of caution.
She glanced back at him, eyes sparkling with joy, but before she could respond, a sudden, sharp crack cut through the music — a gunshot, crisp and deadly.
Chaos exploded instantly. People screamed and scattered in all directions. Lanterns swayed wildly; their light momentarily swallowed by the shadows of panic.
Adrenaline surged through Arjun's veins as he sprinted toward Meera, dodging pushing bodies and overturned stalls. His heart slammed against his ribs as the crowd's movement blurred into a dangerous tide.
Then he saw her.
Meera staggered, clutching her abdomen, a shock of crimson blossoming on her white dress. Her face twisted in disbelief and agony.
"No!" Arjun roared, dropping to his knees beside her. His hands trembled as he pressed against the wound, trying to stem the bleeding, his breath catching in his throat.
She met his eyes, her strength fading, voice barely a whisper. "Arjun... our baby…"
His world fractured.
Before he could gather his thoughts, a shadow fell over them. Arjun barely had time to turn when a burning pain flared through his side. He gasped, dropping forward onto one knee, blood slicking his fingers.
Ji-Yeon stood there — the ruthless leader of the Black Vipers — her black hair framing a face that was both beautiful and merciless. Her cold eyes met his, unflinching.
"Why?" Arjun rasped, every muscle trembling in pain.
Ji-Yeon's cruel smile deepened. "Collateral damage," she said, voice low and venomous, then vanished into the fleeing crowd.
Sirens wailed in the distance, but Arjun stayed rooted, clutching Meera's fading hand as life slipped from her.
In that searing moment of loss and agony, something irrevocable awakened within him — a vow to hunt down the woman who shattered his world, no matter the cost.
I will find her. I will make her pay.