Chapter 5

The night was alive with the resonating roar of the Maserati MC20, its powerful engine cutting through the darkness as a man with deep obsidian eyes sat in the driver's seat, firmly gripping the wheel. The car sped along the deserted road, its headlights cutting through the obscurity like twin beams of determination.

"What are the odds now?" the man asked, his voice laced with a hint of impatience.

"[Human, it remains the same, but the twelve gods overseeing the returns have invested more into it]," replied the voice from an unseen source, carrying an air of cosmic knowledge.

The man's brow furrowed as he contemplated the calculated moves of those who claimed divine authority. "How did they discern the situation here if they cannot see?" he inquired, his distrust of the gods evident.

"[Human, they are the ones who sent the souls of the candidates and implanted their mark to feel fluctuations in the emotions of the soul]," came the response, revealing the manipulative nature of these divine entities.

As the conversation unfolded, the man's phone rang, breaking the tension of the moment. He answered it without a second thought, speaking quickly and decisively. "Yes, Anastasia, come to the GPS location within an hour with the body."

The call ended abruptly, and the man shifted his focus back to the road. His orders had been given, and he had little doubt they would be executed swiftly. The resources at his disposal spoke of immense wealth, seemingly bottomless.

In the heart of the slum valley, the cacophonous roar of engines echoed as a car arrived at its destination. The location appeared desolate, an empty canvas awaiting a purpose. The man leaned against his car's door, folding his arms, his eyes frequently darting to his watch.

Within the hour, a Mercedes pulled up, bearing a coffin within. A woman, dressed in a white shirt and glasses, exited the vehicle and approached the man's side. Her efficiency had been remarkable.

"Sir, everything is prepared as you said," she reported.

"Good," the man replied tersely. Without further ado, he lifted the body in the coffin onto his shoulder, an act that left his secretary slightly puzzled. With a signal, he gestured for her to follow as he embarked on a journey.

Together they traversed the grim streets of the slum valley, where broken doors and crumbling walls bore the scars of neglect.

At the end of a tattered street, the man gazed toward a distant house, his resolve unwavering as he prepared to confront the unknown.

....

In the room, where the walls crumbled, and despair clung to the air like a heavy shroud, a woman with cascading blonde hair lay as if the vitality of her body was slowly fading away. Her youthful beauty from days long past still lingered in the faint traces of her features. However, the pale pallor of her face, the emaciation brought on by the relentless disease, had taken its toll, rendering her frail and weak.

As the woman lay there, a shadow fell across her, casting an ominous prelude to the fate that loomed before her. The man, her deliverer or perhaps her harbinger, approached with measured steps, a silent sentinel of fate.

With a subtle gesture, the man signaled to his secretary, a poised and formidable woman who possessed the strength of a dozen ordinary individuals. She received the body of the deceased with a sense of professionalism that bordered on the supernatural. It was a reminder of the lengths one would go to serve someone of unparalleled wealth.

The man, seemingly unaffected by the grim tableau, turned his attention to the woman lying beside the lifeless body. She was a mother, her child nestled beside her in the warmth of slumber. The man's gaze held a depth of understanding, a knowing that transcended words.

With utmost care, he lifted the ailing woman, her brows furrowing ever so slightly in response to the unfamiliar touch. The weight of her frail body rested against him, a testament to his strength and the burden he willingly bore.

Unprompted, the secretary proceeded to place the body in the designated spot, a choreographed act guided by unspoken knowledge. The room, once more, was engulfed in silence, as if acknowledging the profound events that had transpired within its decaying walls.

The young man, still in the deep throes of sleep, remained oblivious to the changes unfolding around him. Unaware, he continued to dream, perhaps of a world far removed from the one he currently inhabited.

.....

Under the ethereal glow of the moonlight, the compassionate man tenderly placed the fragile woman onto the plush seat beside him. With utmost care, he draped his finely tailored suit jacket over her frail form, concealing her in tattered and weathered garments.

Despite the ravages of time, her once radiant blonde locks and porcelain fair skin still bore remnants of a beauty that seemed destined to fade into eternity.

With a subtle gesture, he signaled for his devoted secretary to exit the vehicle, granting them a moment of privacy amidst the looming uncertainty.

As the sleek car glided onto the dimly lit road, its engine hummed back to life, propelling them toward their imminent destination—the airport.

The car surged forward with a powerful roar, yet the man's attention was fixated on the woman beside him. Her eyes fluttered open, bearing a hint of disbelief as she took in her surreal surroundings.

Overwhelmed and weakened by the relentless grip of her debilitating illness, she could only observe the world passing by, unable to summon the strength to speak.

Her gaze shifted toward the enigmatic man with obsidian hair, his locks playfully tousled by the breeze. His penetrating eyes locked onto hers, offering reassurance in the midst of her silent turmoil.

A soothing voice, like a gentle balm for her soul, washed over her fragile senses, though she remained incapable of verbal response.

"It's okay, Lisia," he whispered, his voice a lifeline in the darkness of her despair. "You will live."

Her emotionally exhausted eyes met his, desperately struggling against the relentless grip of her affliction. In that profound moment, words proved inadequate to convey the depth of her gratitude and her fierce determination to defy the merciless fate that had befallen her.

The man harbored a distinct disdain for remaining in this country, perceiving it as an inconvenience or an impediment to his meticulously laid plans.

However, his geographical location mattered little to him, as his immense wealth granted him the freedom to return at will, should he choose.

Upon arriving at the airport, he gracefully swung open the car door and lifted the fragile woman in a princess carry, defying expectations and leaving his bodyguards momentarily bewildered.

They had been prepared to assist, yet they remained steadfast in their duties, recognizing that their enigmatic employer required no assistance.

"Anastasia," he directed his secretary, his tone void of hesitation, "Arrange for all the doctors once again. I want her to be completely healed. If not, the doctors' heads will be on display."

His words hung in the air, a chilling threat that left the bodyguards taken aback. His secretary, too, felt a shiver of apprehension, fully aware that this was no empty bluff. This man wielded the power to carry out his ominous promises.

The woman nestled in his embrace also heard his decree, her emotions swirling within her heart. Overwhelmed by the surreal turn of events, she grasped onto the realization that this was her dream, a dream she had dared to hope for.

Seated together in the opulent jet, the man's gaze lingered upon the woman, who stared back at him, her expression a tableau of profound bewilderment. She struggled to comprehend the trajectory of her life—a life marred by a premature childbirth to an indifferent lover and a family that had betrayed her trust. Her existence had unraveled into chaos, with the one glimmer of hope, her child, also torn from her grasp.

Now, a stranger, a man of inexplicable generosity, cared for her as if her well-being were his very lifeline. It all seemed surreal, as if an imaginary world had supplanted her painful reality.

Deep down, she recognized it as a dream—a beautiful dream far more enchanting than her turbulent life. She yearned to witness its conclusion, to glimpse the better world that lay beyond this country, even if it was just a dream.