Chapter 1: Splashes Everywhere

As dark as spilled ink, the night descended with a ferocity and swiftness that stained the once-lurid sky a deep black, leaving only a scattering of cold, distant stars.

In the inner chamber of the Presidential Suite at the Jinshe City International Hotel, the lavish crystal chandelier flickered incessantly, casting sudden bursts of light and shadow that mingled to create a dangerous, almost supernatural atmosphere within the room.

Desire drifted through the air; the mingled sounds of heavy, primal breathing formed a symphony of shameless indulgence that would leave cheeks burning red. Suddenly, a low, intoxicating voice, rich and smooth as aged wine, sounded from the balcony.

“Tsk tsk, such unbridled passion, Boss Cheng. Aren’t you just asking for trouble?”

The licentious sounds halted abruptly. The woman screamed. The man rolled off the bed in a flash, grabbing a robe and throwing it around himself, then shouted furiously toward the balcony, “Who’s there?”

This was the 118th floor—how could anyone have slipped in without a trace?

Out on the balcony, veiled by nearly transparent drapes, a tall, lean silhouette could be seen—like a beast lurking in the shadows, waiting to strike. In the flickering light, a silenced pistol suddenly angled out from the darkness.

“I am the Reaper come to send you on your way.” Under the chill of starlight, the man’s wicked black eyes held an icy, merciless gleam. The moment his words fell, a deadly bullet, never missing its mark, pierced the thin drapes and struck Boss Cheng squarely in the forehead.

He didn’t even have a chance to dodge. His face froze in terror, eyes wide open as he crashed to the floor, dead before he hit the ground.

The woman shrieked, “Ah… Help! Murder! Someone’s been killed—”

The fiendishly handsome man holstered his gun, his rich, elegant voice offering a strange sort of reassurance: “Don’t panic. I only kill those who deserve to die. My bullets are far too expensive for anyone else.”

As soon as he finished speaking, his figure vanished into the darkness, silent as he had come.

Chaotic footsteps echoed in the corridor as Boss Cheng’s men and the hotel security rushed in, immediately sealing off the hotel in pursuit of the killer.

Meanwhile, in another suite within the hotel, Tong Xiaoman was luxuriating in an outdoor rose bath in the vast marble tub.

Every visit, this was her favorite indulgence: soaking in fragrant, fresh rose petals, gazing up at the star-filled sky, with her favorite desserts placed within easy reach by the tub. The tub’s massaging jets rivaled the touch of a real masseuse, eliciting low, contented sighs she could not suppress.

No wonder this hotel was ruinously expensive.

“Mmm… so relaxing…” she murmured, reclining with her eyes half-closed, blurred by the steam.

Suddenly, a strange presence invaded the room. She snapped her eyes open—just in time to see a shadow plummet from above with a splash, sending water flying everywhere.

Someone had fallen into her bath. Startled, she was about to get up when something cold pressed against her chest—a gun, icy and unyielding, aimed right at her bare skin.

The soft whiteness of her body, half-submerged, contrasted starkly with the cold metal of the weapon.

Yet she did not panic. Blinking the water from her eyes, she looked up calmly.

The man pressing the gun to her chest wore a mocking, roguish smile at the corner of his lips. His deep, beguiling eyes were enough to make one’s heart skip; his lips were so alluring, they seemed to beg for a bite. But his face was hidden—obscured by a thin, cunningly crafted silver half-mask.

Her palm itched with curiosity. She longed to tear off that obstructive mask and see just how devastatingly handsome he truly was.

Outside, the piercing wail of alarms erupted. She paused, considering her options.