The night at the Sapphire Penthouse was split into two very different worlds. On one side was the throne of the Merchant King filled with luxury and elegant passion, while on the other side was a dark room full of penance for the traitor. The large teak doors of the master bedroom were tightly closed, locking out the outside world from the privacy of Sean and Isabella. The room was only lit by the glow of the moonlight penetrating the floor to ceiling glass windows. Sean's masculine scent mixed with expensive Oud perfume filled the air, creating an intoxicating atmosphere. Isabella stood in the middle of the room, letting her red silk robe fall to the marble floor with a soft rustling sound. Under the dim light, her porcelain white skin seemed to glow. Sean approached, his steps slow but full of determination. As he stood right behind Isabella, he wrapped his strong arms around the woman's slender waist, pulling her until there was no gap between them. "You are very beautiful tonig

The sun had just risen on the horizon of Sector 1, but for Isabella, the day had already begun since four in the morning. Behind her intimacy with Sean Alexander, Isabella was not just a beautiful woman used as an ornament. She was the CEO of the Crimson Aesthetic Group, a business empire operating in the fields of beauty, pharmaceuticals, and mass media. In Sector 1, information was the most valuable currency, and Isabella had full control over the public narrative. "I have ignored my own company for almost a week. It is truly strange, how can I, who never have time, spend my time only for Sean. That man ... his charm is undeniable." Isabella stood in her study with bulletproof glass walls, staring at rows of screens displaying stock movements and social media trends. Her slender fingers danced across a tablet, giving instructions to her editorial team to erase all digital traces of Sean's past as a courier. "Anyone who dares to mention the word courier or poor in the same senten

"Sir, our enemies are no longer just tycoons who fear losing numbers on the stock exchange. They are predators hiding behind history. You need more than just a system to stay alive." Jack's heavy voice echoed in the office space that was as large as a football field, breaking the morning silence at the top of Alexander Tower. Sean Alexander, who stood with his back to the door while staring at the expanse of Sector 1 from behind the obsidian glass, did not turn around. His black shirt without a tie looked in contrast to the view of clouds drifting beneath his feet. "Are you doubting my abilities, Jack? Level 5 is already flowing in my blood. I can feel every illegal transaction, every movement of money, even the economic heartbeat of this city just by breathing." "I do not doubt your strength, Sir. I doubt the number of bullets you can parry at once if your system experiences a disturbance," Jack stepped forward, his footsteps sounding firm on the marble floor. Behind him stood thre

"Jack, this cereal expired two months ago, but at least the milk is still sealed and has not turned into cheese." Jack placed a cracked ceramic bowl on a wooden table that wobbled because one of its legs was propped up with a folded piece of cardboard. Sean Alexander stared at the contents of the bowl in silence. If this had happened three days ago, he would have fired his private chef and bought a new restaurant just to ensure his breakfast was perfect. But this morning, in a cramped apartment in Sector 4 where police sirens served as a constant background track, soggy cereal was a luxury to be grateful for. "Eat, Sean. You need energy to think." Isabella emerged from a narrow bathroom that was only closed off by a thin plastic curtain. Her hair, which was usually styled perfectly, was now just tied back in a ponytail with a cheap rubber band. She sat beside Sean, handing him a white plastic spoon that looked very fragile. Sean ate the cereal without expression. It tasted bland,

"Sir! We have to move now! A Vargos tactical unit has already landed on the roof of the next building!" Kaito shouted while pulling his short barreled rifle from inside his tactical jacket, which was starting to tear at the shoulder. Sean Alexander remained still in the middle of the dimly lit room. Spotlight beams from the helicopters outside pierced through the dirty glass windows, sweeping across his face every few seconds like a panicked heartbeat. In his retina, a system warning continued to flash in a blood red color. [Source: Isabella Van Dieren] Those words were not just digital text to Sean. They were a death knell for the love and trust he had built with great effort during his days as a fugitive in Sector 4. He looked at Isabella, who was still kneeling on the floor. She looked broken, but to Sean, who had just regained access to his system’s cold logic, those tears now looked like a collection of irrelevant pixels. "Sean, please run through the back path," Isabella sob