Sanlang had exactly two brain cells functioning today, and both of them were screaming Noor's name.
Yet, here he was. Stuck on set. With her.
Sophie, walking-talking bad decision, was already slinking toward him, her perfume a suffocating mix of expensive desperation.
"Sanlang, darling," she cooed, latching onto his arm like a persistent parasite. "I was wondering when I'd see you again."
Sanlang stared at her hand. Then at her face. Then back at her hand.
"I was wondering when I'd develop spontaneous amnesia," he replied flatly, peeling her off like a bad rash.
Sophie pouted. "Still mad about that little misunderstanding?"
"Oh, you mean the time you publicly embarrassed me in front of Noor, tanking my self-esteem into the earth's core?" Sanlang's smile was pure malice. "Oh no, Sophie."
Sophie huffed. "It's pathetic how obsessed you are with her."
Sanlang's smirk sharpened. "And yet, here you are. Talking about her like she's your intrusive thought at 3 AM."
A few crew members choked on laughter.
Sophie's face twitched.
"You're a fool," she snapped.
Sanlang stepped forward, voice low, amused. "Oh, sweetheart, I would burn in hell if she asked me to."
And with that, he walked off set, leaving Sophie to choke on his devotion.
---
Sanlang stormed into Noor's estate like a man on a mission.
Zeyla looked up, unimpressed. "Oh look, Madam Noor's lost puppy found his way home."
Sanlang ignored her. "Where is she?"
"She's at the orphanage," Zeyla said, smirking. "God, you're down bad."
Sanlang scowled. "I'm not down bad."
Zeyla cupped her hands around her mouth. "MADAM NOOR, YOUR STALKER IS HERE!"
Sanlang didn't even react. "I hate you."
Zeyla grinned. "You're welcome."
---
When Sanlang stepped into the orphanage, he felt it before he saw her.
Her voice.
Soft, ethereal—like someone had bottled moonlight and turned it into sound.
He followed it blindly, steps quickening. He needed to see her.
And then—there she was.
Noor stood at the center of the hall, her figure regal and captivating. She was dressed in a dark purple flared dress that covered her from neck to toe, the modesty of her attire only adding to her mystique. The dress, though it hid the shape of her body, seemed to enhance her tall, statuesque physique, the deep color casting a radiant glow on her skin. If royalty had a face, it would be hers—Noor was the very embodiment of grace and majesty.
There was no makeup on her face, yet her cheeks held a natural rosiness, a soft flush that added to her allure. Her eyes, deep and enchanting, held the intensity of a siren's call, drawing him in with just a glance. Her lips, a beautiful shade of red, were perfectly shaped, the kind that could silence a room with just a whisper.
But it was her hair that completed the picture of royal enchantment. Long, thick, and shiny like the finest silk, it flowed gracefully below her waist, cascading over her shoulders and framing her face like a waterfall. Each strand caught the light, shimmering as if it held secrets of its own. The movement of her hair as she sang added a fluid, almost ethereal quality to her presence, making her seem less like a mere mortal and more like a goddess come to life.
The children clung to her like she was their personal saint, her long hair cascading around her like something out of a cursed fairytale.
Sanlang forgot how to breathe.
Then, a small voice shattered his reverie.
"IT'S HANDSOME UNCLE!"
Sanlang blinked. Handsome… uncle?
Before he could react, three tiny gremlins tackled his legs, hugging him like he was the last slice of cake.
"We missed you, Handsome Uncle!"
Noor lifted her gaze, amusement flickering in her eyes. "Handsome Uncle?"
Sanlang cleared his throat. "They mean… 'Charming Older Brother.'"
A child gasped. "No, we don't! We mean uncle."
Another nodded solemnly. "Old people are called uncle."
Sanlang stared at them in betrayal. "Excuse me?"
One particularly evil child squinted at his hair. "You got old-man wrinkles when you frown."
Maya and Zeyla were WHEEZING.
Sanlang peeled one of them off. "I don't have gray hair."
The smallest one inspected his head. "Yet."
Noor's lips twitched. "They have a point."
Sanlang groaned. "This is a setup. I demand a retrial."
One of the kids patted his arm. "Don't be sad, Uncle Sanlang. You're still mother Noor's favorite."
Noor's smile vanished.
Silence.
Sanlang blinked, then turned to Noor, a slow, victorious smirk stretching across his face. "Noor's favorite, huh?"
Noor, completely composed, sipped her tea. "Children say the funniest things."
Sanlang crouched to the smallest child, whispering, "Repeat that for Uncle Sanlang, please."
Noor set her cup down. "If you corrupt them, I'll throw you out."
Sanlang grinned. "Worth it."
Maya clutched her stomach. "THE FEAR IN NOOR'S EYES. PRICELESS."
---
The sun set, bleeding crimson and gold across the sky. Noor stood on the balcony, untouched by time, her long dark hair whipping in the evening wind.
Sanlang approached, feeling something sharp and dangerous curl in his chest.
She was a vision. And it was killing him.
A strand of her hair lifted, tangling in the breeze. Before he could stop himself, he reached out—
Gently, he tucked it behind her ear.
His knuckles grazed her cheek.
Soft. Warm.
Sanlang swallowed. Noor's expression was blank, unreadable, but—
Her cheeks betrayed her.
A soft, pink flush crept up her skin.
Sanlang felt his own face burn. Oh, hell.
He leaned in slightly, voice a whisper. "You're turning red."
Noor arched a brow, voice calm. "It's the heat."
Sanlang smirked. "It's twenty degrees."
Noor sipped her tea. "Then the sun."
Sanlang tilted his head. "Sun's gone."
Noor turned fully, eyes sharp. "Maybe I'm allergic to idiots."
Sanlang grinned. Ah. There she was.
But her blush remained.
And Sanlang knew—she was slipping.
---
From the shadows, Zeyla and Maya watched.
Zeyla smirked. "She's losing."
Maya sighed. "Not yet. But she's fighting a battle she can't win."
Zeyla chuckled. "Yeah, because she's blushing."
Maya rubbed her temples. "And that is how we know she's doomed."
Zeyla exhaled slowly, arms crossed. "You know, I used to think Lady Noor was heartless."
Maya smirked, not looking up from her tablet. "And now?"
Zeyla tilted her head. "Now I think she's a sadist."
Maya hummed in agreement. "Oh, absolutely. She's practically giggling watching Sanlang lose his sanity."
They both turned to look at him. The poor man was sitting there, staring at Noor like she was the last sip of water in the desert and he had been crawling for miles. His fingers twitched every time she so much as breathed.
Zeyla snorted. "He's suffering."
Maya nodded, sipping her tea. "I can hear his heartbreak from here."
Sanlang exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face, while Noor? Noor sat beside him, completely unbothered, calmly sipping her tea like she wasn't the reason behind every crisis in his soul.
Zeyla sighed, shaking her head. "This is tragic. We should do something."
Maya raised a brow. "Do what? Tell Madam to have a heart?" She scoffed. "We'd have a better chance of convincing gravity to take a break."
Zeyla leaned forward, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "Maybe we should help Sanlang."
Maya choked on her tea. "Are you trying to get us killed?"
Zeyla grinned. "I mean, just nudge her. Give her a little push toward realizing she actually likes the poor guy."
Maya stared at her for a long moment, then slowly shook her head. "Zeyla. Madam Noor once rejected a prince in front of his entire royal family and then politely reminded them that women shouldn't be treated as trade agreements. She shut down an entire dynasty with one sentence. You think we can 'nudge' her?"
Zeyla whistled. "Okay, yeah, fair enough. But look at Sanlang."
They turned back to where he sat.
Sanlang had moved an inch closer to Noor. He was hovering, clearly debating whether or not to touch her. His fingers twitched again. His jaw was tight. His entire body screamed helpless devotion.
Then, just as his hand inched toward hers—
Noor gracefully stood, stretching slightly.
Sanlang nearly flung himself off the bench.
Zeyla winced. "Oof. That had to hurt."
Maya smirked. "At this point, Madam Noor is just doing it on purpose."
Zeyla snorted. "At this point, we should just put 'In Memory of Sanlang's Dignity' on a plaque."
Maya let out a soft tch, tapping her tablet thoughtfully. "It's funny, though."
Zeyla glanced at her. "What is?"
Maya watched Noor's retreating figure. "For someone so untouchable, she lets him close."
Zeyla raised a brow.
Maya nodded toward Noor. "She's never allowed anyone to orbit her this long. And the way she reacts to him? She's still trying to pretend she's above it all, but…"
Zeyla smirked. "Her betraying blush says otherwise."
Maya chuckled. "Exactly."
They both turned to Sanlang, who was still sitting there, visibly malfunctioning.
Zeyla sighed dramatically. "Poor guy. He fell for an unreachable myth."
Maya took another sip of tea. "He fell for a woman who will let him burn first, and maybe—maybe—cool the fire after."
Zeyla snickered. "That's if he survives the inferno."
Maya smirked. "He won't."
And with that, they sat back, watching the chaos unfold with the satisfaction of two people who had long since accepted that this was not their problem.
-------
Zedra had had enough.
For weeks, she had been trying to get Sanlang's attention. Weeks of ignored calls, unread messages, and an Olympic-level competition of indifference.
And now? Now she had to personally fly across the world just to find him.
First, she stormed onto his film set like a fashionable hurricane.
"WHERE IS HE?" she had demanded, stilettos stabbing into the floor.
The crew members had scattered like terrified pigeons.
One unfortunate assistant had stammered, "Uh—he left, ma'am."
Zedra narrowed her eyes. "Left? Left WHERE?"
"Um. We don't…know?"
Zedra had taken a deep breath, counted to three, and then—promptly threatened to sue everyone in the room.
When that hadn't worked, she had stormed to his penthouse.
Empty.
His staff looked at her like she was the human embodiment of a migraine.
Zedra had glared at them all, tapping her nails against her phone. "So he's playing hard to get. Cute. Wrong move."
Then, she had smirked.
Because there was one place left.
And sure enough____
The estate was peaceful. The kind of peace that wouldn't last much longer.
Sanlang was in the garden, sitting with Zeyla and Maya, enjoying what he thought was a rare, calm evening.
Then—
The sound of heels stomping against marble.
Maya closed her eyes, whispering, "Oh no."
Zeyla exhaled. "Not again."
Sanlang, unbothered, sipped his tea. "Should I run?"
And then—Zedra appeared.
Dressed in a designer suit, her coat flaring dramatically, her sunglasses still on despite it being evening, she strode in like she owned the place.
"There you are."
Sanlang took another sip. "Here I am."
Zedra ignored his complete lack of enthusiasm and marched straight to the table.
"I have THE greatest idea of my entire career," she announced, slamming her handbag onto the table like it was the holy grail.
Zedra raised her arms. "Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed guests, and Sanlang, I have a monumental announcement to make!"
Maya mumbled, "Please let it be self-exile."
Zeyla sighed. "We should start charging for watching these meltdowns."
Zedra ignored them, fully committed to the madness.
Zeyla leaned back. "This will be no good."
Maya sighed. "Let me guess. Another insanity?"
"No," Zedra said, grinning. "Bigger. Better. Crazier."
She paused for dramatic effect. Then—
"Sanlang," she declared, "I have found your perfect co-star."
Silence.
Sanlang blinked once. Then twice.
"…I don't need a co-star."
"Oh, but you do," Zedra countered. "And not just any co-star. No, no, no. I have flown across the globe to secure the only woman who can match your screen presence, your intensity, your raw magnetism—"
Maya muttered, "She's hyping this up like it's a political treaty."
Zeyla smirked. "Sanlang looks like he's waiting for a car crash."
Zedra, unbothered by the sarcasm, threw her arms out. "I present to you—DALIA WINTERS."
Silence.
Sanlang stared at her. "Who?"
Zedra looked offended. "WHO?!? Are you uncultured?"
Maya, scrolling her tablet, squinted. "Wait. You mean Dalia Winters, the actress known for licking a diamond necklace in a perfume ad and making it go viral?"
Sanlang tilted his head. "The one who… kissed a solid gold statue in a movie just to prove she could?"
Zedra beamed. "YES! HER!"
Zeyla exhaled. "You want her to act with Sanlang?"
"Not just act," Zedra said dramatically. "Be his on-screen obsession. His tragic, doomed love. The ultimate pairing of beauty and passion!"
Sanlang set his tea down. "Nooooo."
Zedra ignored him. "Imagine it. You—smoldering, intense. Her—equally dramatic, fiercely sensual."
Maya nodded. "Yes, I can see it. The perfect romance movie."
Zedra grinned. "Exactly—"
Maya smirked. "Too bad Sanlang looks like he'd rather die."
Zedra turned back to Sanlang. "Darling. I have signed the contract already."
Sanlang's eyebrow twitched. "You did what?"
Zedra clapped her hands. "Filming starts in a month! The world is not ready for this."
Maya, watching Sanlang's complete lack of response: "If looks could kill."
Zeyla: "Zedra would be reincarnated by now."
Zedra turned toward Noor, who had just entered the hall. The final judge.
Noor, the one person who could end this madness.
"Mother Noor," Zedra exclaimed, "Tell Sanlang this is the greatest idea of all time."
Noor… simply sat down, completely calm and composed.
Then, with zero hesitation, she said—
"When did I stop you from doing anything?"
Zedra lit up like a Christmas tree.
Maya and Zeyla, horrified.
"Madam NOOR, WAIT—" Maya started.
Zedra clapped her hands. "A BLESSING FROM MOTHER NOOR HERSELF! IT IS FATED!"
Zeyla groaned. "We're never stopping this, are we?"
Maya shook her head. "No. We just have to survive it."
Sanlang ran a hand down his face. He was doomed.
Zedra grinned. "This is going to be legendary."
Sanlang muttered, "This is going to be my villain origin story."
---
As Zedra celebrated her victory, Noor sipped her tea like this was none of her business.
Sanlang looked dead inside.
Maya took a deep breath. "Okay. We need a plan."
Zeyla nodded. "Plan to what?"
Maya gestured toward the absolute mess unfolding. "Plan to save Sanlang's dignity before it's too late."
Zeyla sighed. "Oh, sweetheart. It's already too late."
Zedra pulled out her phone. "Let me just make an announcement—"
Sanlang's eyes snapped up. "You will do no such thing."
Zedra ignored him, dramatically typing, "WORLD, GET READY FOR THE GREATEST ROMANTIC DUO OF ALL TIME—"
Maya: "Sanlang, if you want to stop her, now's your chance."
Sanlang sighed. "Noor, say something."
Noor, completely indifferent: "What happens outside this estate isn't my concern."
Zeyla cackled. "She left you for dead."
Zedra hit send.
Maya groaned. "It's done."
Sanlang stared at the ceiling. "So this is what true suffering feels like."
And with that, Zedra won again.
Sanlang? Officially doomed.
Maya and Zeyla? Entertainment secured.
And the world?
About to witness something insane.
The room went silent.
Sanlang barely blinked, his face a mask of bored amusement. He was already exhausted.
The tension in the room shifted.
Sanlang's lips twitched. Ah. Noor's signature move—leaving destruction with just words.
Zedra froze, thrown off.
Maya exhaled. "Here we go."
Zeyla nodded. "Someone get the funeral arrangements ready."
Sanlang finally stood, stretching lazily, looking entirely unbothered. "Zedra," he drawled, tone light, mocking, "I'm flattered, really."
Zedra brightened, hope flickering in her eyes—
"But," Sanlang continued, his eyes sliding directly to Noor, locking onto hers, "I've already made my choice."
Noor's expression remained unreadable.
Except for her fingers.
Where the fabric of her sleeve tightened ever so slightly.
Sanlang smirked. Gotcha.
Maya let out a low whistle. "Oh, he's good."
Zeyla grinned. "He's screwed."
And as Noor turned away, her footsteps echoing in the silent hall, Sanlang simply watched her go—
Because he knew.
Noor wasn't going to stop him anymore.
And that? That was more dangerous than any rejection.
Sanlang was not okay.
He sat in the estate's lounge, arms crossed, watching Zedra pace the room like some fashionable warlord plotting her next move. Maya and Zeyla were seated nearby, fully invested in whatever disaster was about to unfold.
Zedra, still buzzing from her "victory," was grinning as she checked her phone. "The buzz around your new film is already exploding, darling. The world is dying to see you and Dalia Winters together."
Sanlang ran a hand down his face. "They can die waiting."
Zedra ignored him. "You should be thrilled! Dalia is perfect—stunning, dramatic, an absolute dream in front of the camera."
Sanlang scoffed. "Sounds exhausting."
Maya, scrolling through the latest online reactions, snorted. "She literally said she'd drink champagne out of your hand during an interview yesterday."
Sanlang stared. "What does that even mean?"
Zeyla, amused, shrugged. "That she's unhinged?"
Sanlang groaned. "This is why I don't accept romance roles anymore."
Zedra whipped around. "And why exactly is that?"
Sanlang hesitated for a fraction of a second. His fingers tapped against the table, and then, as if choosing his words carefully—
"I just…don't take those kinds of projects anymore."
Zedra narrowed her eyes. "No, no. That's not an answer."
She leaned forward, studying him like a case study in tragic romantic delusion.
Sanlang scowled, looking anywhere but at her. "It's just…not my focus."
Maya and Zeyla exchanged knowing glances.
Zedra's smirk widened. "It wouldn't have anything to do with a certain divine woman sipping tea in the next room, would it?"
Sanlang froze for half a second—which was half a second too long.
Zedra gasped. "IT IS BECAUSE OF HER."
Maya grinned. "Oh, this just got interesting."
Zeyla nodded, taking a sip of her drink. "Go on, lover boy."
Sanlang scowled. "It's not because of Noor."
Zedra beamed. "So if Noor personally came and asked you to do a romance film, you'd say yes?"
Sanlang's eye twitched.
Zeyla burst into laughter. "HE CAN'T EVEN ANSWER."
Maya smirked. "Pathetic."
Sanlang exhaled sharply. "That's not the point."
Zedra plopped down across from him, crossing her legs. "Then what is the point, dear Sanlang?"
Sanlang hesitated for a moment, fingers tightening into a fist.
"She doesn't…" He exhaled, jaw tight. "She doesn't feel anything? Seeing me around other women?"
Maya and Zeyla snapped their heads toward him so fast they nearly got whiplash.
Zedra blinked. Then grinned like a predator sensing blood.
"Oh. OHHH."
Sanlang immediately regretted saying anything.
Maya and Zeyla were now leaning forward, fully invested.
Sanlang scowled. "Forget I asked."
Zedra, dramatically placing a hand over her heart: "Forget? FORGET?"
She leaned forward, lowering her voice with mock seriousness.
"Sanlang. Do you want her to feel something?"
Silence.
Sanlang tensed. His fingers twitched. His breath hitched just slightly.
Maya muttered, "Oh, this is so good."
Zeyla nodded. "I'm writing this down for future blackmail."
Sanlang gritted his teeth. "That's not—"
Zedra cut him off.
"Does she have to?"
Sanlang's breath caught.
Zedra tilted her head, eyes sharp. "She lets you stay."
Sanlang's jaw tightened.
Zedra leaned back, smug. "She doesn't stop you from being around her. She lets you be close. Noor, the woman who can command a room without speaking, who has built an empire from nothing, who has rejected kings and rulers and actors and politicians—"
She smirked.
"And yet, you're still here."
Sanlang's heartbeat thundered.
Maya whistled low. "Damn. She got you good."
Zeyla, flipping her hair, nodded. "I'd be embarrassed if I were you."
Sanlang clenched his jaw. "That doesn't answer my question."
Zedra laughed. "It does, darling."
She leaned forward again, resting her chin on her palm. "Our Mother Noor doesn't do jealousy."
Sanlang's breath was shallow.
Zedra smirked. "She doesn't fight for what's already hers."
Sanlang exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. He was doomed.
Zeyla nodded approvingly. "That was poetic, honestly."
Maya clapped. "That was brutal."
Sanlang groaned. "I hate all of you."
Zedra stood up, dusting off her coat. "And yet, here you are."
Sanlang scowled. "Get out."
Zedra winked. "See you on set, lover boy."
Maya, watching Sanlang struggle with his thoughts: "I give it two weeks before he breaks."
Zeyla smirked. "I give it one."
Sanlang, running a hand through his hair: "I hate this."
Zeyla patted his shoulder. "You love this."
And with that, Zedra sauntered away, fully victorious, while Sanlang sat there, internally crumbling, questioning every life choice he had ever made.
---
Noor stepped into her chambers, and the air changed.
The warmth of the estate did not reach this place. Here, the silence was not peaceful—it was dense, suffocating, alive.
The corridors of the estate were silent, but Noor felt it the moment she stepped inside her chambers—
Something was wrong.
The air shifted. Not with the natural hush of wind, but with something heavier, colder, like the breath of an unseen force pressing against her skin.
The lanterns flickered. The temperature dropped. The room, once a sanctuary of solitude, was now a cage wrapped in unseen chains.
And then—it arrived.
The mist slithered in.It manifested. Born from nothing, curling like dark tendrils over the marble floor, wrapping itself around the room in a slow, deliberate hunger.
And with it came the voice.
No—not a voice.
A sound.
Fractured. Distorted.
Like something ancient had been shattered into a thousand echoes, trying to speak through a mouth that did not exist.
"You are fading."
Noor did not react.
"You have become weak."
A heavy force weighed upon the air, pressing down with an unseen weight, suffocating in its silence. The mist grew darker, thickening, shifting, alive in its formlessness.
Then—it moved.
The mist stretched, gathered, and then it took shape.
A shadow.
Something older than language, something unbound by flesh, something that did not belong in this realm—or any other.
Its form was wrong, shifting, dissolving, rebuilding, as if reality itself struggled to contain it.
Then it spoke again.
"It won't be long before you—"
"Not just yet."
Noor's voice was steady. Final.
The shadow twisted, its form shuddering, its presence unnatural and limitless.
Then it struck.
Darkness lashed forward, like something meant to devour. The air rippled, space itself bending toward the void—
And then—
The sword appeared.
A weapon of pure radiance, forged not from metal, but from light itself. Its glow was unnatural, holy, the only thing in this world the darkness could not swallow.
With a single, fluid motion, Noor cut through the void.
The shadow screamed.
Not a sound of pain—no, this was rage.
It fractured, its very existence splintering, the pieces of it dissolving into the air like dying embers—
And yet—
The air did not settle.
Noor staggered.
Her fingers trembled.
And then—
Pain.
Indescribable.
It seized her body all at once, ripping through muscle, through bone, through the very essence of her being.
She gasped, sharp and sudden, her knees buckling beneath her.
A searing, twisting agony tore through her veins, her nerves screaming, her body betraying her.
And then—blood.
She coughed, and a crimson bloom splattered against the floor.
The sword flickered, its light faltering—and then it vanished.
Her body convulsed, a violent tremor running through her limbs. Too much. Too much.
Her breath came in shallow bursts, her vision blurring—
Yet she smiled.
She lifted her shaking fingers, touching the blood that stained them, feeling its warmth as it painted her white silk crimson.
So this was it.
This is how much time I have left.
Her breath hitched, her chest rising and falling in a struggle she refused to acknowledge.
"If my time is borrowed… let me give him what little remains."
Her lashes fluttered shut for a moment, her breath softening.
"If fate is cruel, let me be kind."
She exhaled, her fingers pressing against the wound, but there was no panic. No fear.
Only longing.
A quiet, aching wish.
"Let him have happiness."
"Let him smile without knowing pain."
"Let him live a life where my absence means nothing at all."
A single tear slipped down her cheek, mixing with the blood.
Her lips parted slightly, and for the first time in years, she allowed herself to whisper the name—" Kang ."
But the wind stole it away.
Leaving behind only silence.
And the taste of blood and love unspoken.