Love or Vengeance

Chapter 15: Behind Her Smile

Louise's POV

"Hello," I answered the phone lazily.

"Good morning, babe," Ivan said in a sweet and affectionate voice.

"Hmm?" I was still half-asleep.

"Let's go on a date," he said.

"Maybe tomorrow? I'm really sleepy," I replied.

I had been out with the others last night at the headquarters, and now I was completely exhausted and drowsy.

Because of how sleepy I was, I could barely hear what Ivan was saying — and eventually, I dozed off again.

I felt someone holding me, hugging me.

"So warm," I mumbled, snuggling closer to the comforting warmth.

"And it smells so good," I added, burying myself even deeper.

Slowly, I opened my eyes—and there they were, his perfectly white teeth flashing a gentle smile at me.

Instinctively, I pushed him away. But before I could get out of bed, he pulled me back into his arms and gently brushed away the strands of hair falling over my face.

"It's almost noon," he said softly.

I could only stare at him.

Then he gave me a quick kiss. "Why aren't you saying anything?"

"How long have you been here?" I asked, still trying to process what was happening.

"You fell asleep again while we were talking on the phone. That's why I came over. I've been here for almost four hours now."

My face turned red from embarrassment. I quickly covered it with the blanket.

"You already saw me sleeping? They always say I sleep like a log—and such a messy sleeper at that!"

He chuckled. "This is actually the second time I've seen you sleep—the first was the day I stole a kiss, and the second was when I slept over here."

He kissed me again. "You're always beautiful."

Then he hugged me tightly. "Let's go out today, okay?"

I nodded.

He helped me sit up and gently pushed me toward the bathroom.

"Go get ready. I'll wait for you downstairs."

After I finished getting dressed, I came downstairs—and he was waiting for me with a smile. He gently took my hand.

He led me to his car, opened the door for me like a gentleman, and as I settled in, he grinned and said, "I have a surprise for you."

Curious, I turned to him. "What is it?"

He chuckled and replied, "It's called a surprise for a reason."

As the car came to a slow stop, I looked around in confusion. We were in the middle of a wide, open field—lush with green grass and surrounded by soft hills that kissed the afternoon sky. The gentle breeze carried the scent of wildflowers, and in the distance, I could hear the faint chirping of birds. It was so peaceful—almost like a dream.

Ivan stepped out first, then opened my door with a proud grin on his face.

"Come on, babe," he said, offering his hand.

Still unsure, I took it. We walked a little farther, and then I saw it.

Right under a tall acacia tree, on top of a small hill, was a beautiful picnic setup—soft beige blankets spread out neatly, pillows scattered around for comfort, and a wicker basket filled with fruits, pastries, and a bottle of sparkling juice. Mason jars with fairy lights hung from the branches above, swaying gently in the wind, casting a warm glow even in daylight. A small speaker quietly played soft, romantic music in the background.

My mouth dropped open slightly. "Ivan..."

He looked at me, eyes gleaming with quiet pride and affection. "Surprise."

I turned slowly, taking it all in. "You did all this... for me?"

He nodded. "I wanted to give you something peaceful. Just us. Away from everything."

My heart melted. No one had ever done something so thoughtful for me before. I smiled, eyes stinging a little from the emotion. "It's perfect."

Ivan pulled me closer, brushing a strand of hair from my face. "You're perfect."

And for a moment, the world truly did feel still—just me, him, and the golden quiet of the afternoon.

We settled comfortably on the soft blankets, leaning against the pillows beneath the gentle shade of the acacia tree.

We took turns reading aloud, our voices blending with the sounds of the wind and the rustling leaves. Sometimes we'd pause to share thoughts or laugh over a particularly witty line. It felt so natural—like we'd known each other for years instead of just months.

Between chapters, we snacked on sweet pastries and fresh fruits Ivan had thoughtfully packed.

Our conversations drifted effortlessly from silly jokes to our dreams, our fears, and little stories from our pasts. I learned things about him I never expected, and he listened intently as I shared my own secrets.

In that peaceful moment, surrounded by nature and his warmth, I realized how much I wanted to keep discovering him—and for him to discover me.

"I never thought a simple picnic could feel this perfect," I whispered.

He smiled, squeezing my hand. "Me neither. It's the company that makes it special."

When the sun finally slipped out of sight, painting the last streaks of light across the sky, we packed up quietly. Hand in hand, we walked back to the car, hearts full and spirits calm, ready to head home—but already looking forward to the next time.

The drive home was quiet, filled with the lingering warmth of the day and the soft hum of the car. We exchanged gentle smiles, still basking in the calm of the picnic. But just as the city lights began to flicker on in the distance, a dark van suddenly sped up beside us, its windows tinted and menacing.

Before we could react, several figures emerged, surrounding the car like shadows closing in. Ivan's grip on the steering wheel tightened, his eyes sharp and alert.

Louise said to herself, "I was too caught up in the peacefulness earlier and lost awareness of my surroundings. s**t!"

She looked beside her and called, "Ivan, we won't be able to pass through this road."

Calmly, I said to him, "Stop the car. I'll hold them off."

"What?!" I could sense the tension in his voice. The other cars were closing in, and because the road was so rough, it was hard to drive fast. "You're telling me to let you face those guys alone and then just run away?"

"I can handle them," I assured him, but he didn't listen.

I let out a deep sigh. Ivan continued driving. Underneath my dress, I pulled out a gun. I reloaded it quickly and then placed it in front of Ivan, making sure he could see it.

His eyes went wide as he realized where the gun came from and how I had it.

"Listen to me carefully," I said firmly. "I want you to just follow my lead, no more, no less. Stay in the car. Don't get out. Use this gun only if someone comes near you." I showed him how to hold and use the gun.

"Do you understand?" I asked.

He didn't respond.

"I want you to trust me," I said sincerely, looking into his eyes. "I won't let myself get hurt—as long as you're safe. But if we don't act now, we might both die once they catch up."

Finally, he nodded.

"Good. Now I want you to slow down... let them catch up."

Ivan hesitated, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly—but he listened.

"Once the car stops, remember everything I told you. No matter what happens, follow it exactly."

Ivan gradually slowed the car. Within a few minutes, the vehicle behind us overtook and swerved in front, blocking the road. Another car sealed us in from behind.

Dozens of thugs poured out from both vehicles.

Just as I reached for the door, Ivan grabbed my wrist. His eyes were full of fear and worry.

"Please remember what I said. This is the only way we make it out alive... But I swear, I won't let anyone hurt you."

Without another word, I gently freed my wrist from his grip, opened the door, and stepped out.

The right-hand man of Judas stepped forward and spoke first.

"Boss wants your head."

"Tch," I scoffed with a smirk. "Tell him to try if he can." Her eyes narrowed.

"So, the famous actress is here... Who would've thought that behind that beautiful face lies the devil herself."

Ara let out a chilling laugh. "Let's begin."

She raised her hand and signaled the first six men to attack me.

"Slow," I muttered under my breath—because before any of them could even get close, I had already taken them down.

Ara clapped her hands slowly, a wicked smile curling on her lips.

"Not bad," she said, her voice laced with both amusement and challenge. "Looks like the rumors weren't exaggerated after all."

She took a step forward, her eyes gleaming with thrill.

"But let's see how long you can keep that up."

With a flick of her fingers, Ara gave another signal. Twelve more men charged toward me like rabid dogs.

"Boring," I said flatly, brushing a stray hair from my face as I shifted into a defensive stance.

The first came at me with a wooden bat. I dodged to the side, grabbed his arm, twisted it behind his back, and kicked the back of his knee—he dropped with a cry. I didn't stop moving.

The next two tried to flank me. I jumped, kicked off one's chest, flipping midair, and landed behind them. I grabbed the nearest one's head and slammed it into the hood of the car. A metallic thud echoed as he crumpled.

They came in waves—some with sticks, others with knives—but none of them could touch me. I used their momentum against them, redirecting their force, disarming them, and knocking them out one by one with swift, precise strikes.

I slid beneath a wide swing, grabbed the attacker's shirt, and spun him into another. They collapsed together.

"Seriously?" I muttered, catching my breath. "You brought this many just to waste my time?"

Across the field, Ara clapped slowly.

Ara signaled again, her fingers slicing the air sharply. The rest of her thugs—at least fifteen men—rushed toward me without hesitation.

"What a joke," I muttered

Another tried to tackle me from behind. I backkicked his knee, spun, and slammed my palm into his chest with enough force to knock the air out of him. He stumbled back and fell, gasping.

Two came at once, aiming low. I leapt, using one of their shoulders to flip over them, landing gracefully behind. I grabbed one's collar and slammed him to the ground, while the other turned—only to meet my knee to his stomach.

They kept coming—desperate, clumsy. I was swift, precise. A whirlwind in a dress.

Bruised and groaning bodies piled around me, and still, I stood—unshaken.

Ara narrowed her eyes. The grin was gone.

"You're really starting to piss me off," she hissed, stepping forward.

I dusted off my dress like this was just a mild inconvenience.

"Then stop hiding behind your little toys and fight me yourself."

Ara smiled darkly, her heels clicking against the gravel as she stepped forward. With a flick of her wrist, she unsheathed a katana strapped across her back and tossed it toward me.

The blade spun through the air, gleaming beneath the dying sun.

I caught it mid-spin, one hand, steady. Its weight felt familiar, like an extension of myself.

"Not bad for this," I said, twirling it once before settling into a stance.

Ara pulled out her own blade—slimmer, sleeker, but no less deadly. "Let's see if your mouth is as sharp as that sword."

"Careful what you wish for," I smirked.

And just like that, we clashed.

Steel rang through the open fields, sharp and clean. Her first strike was fast—I parried, sparks flying. She followed with a sweep. I leapt back, pivoted, and slashed down. She blocked with both hands, gritting her teeth.

She was skilled, I'll give her that.

But not enough.

With each blow, I pushed harder, faster. My movements were calculated—years of secret training flowing through muscle memory. She staggered under the pressure.

"Getting tired already?" I teased, slashing close enough to cut a lock of her hair.

She growled and lunged—but I sidestepped and spun behind her, the blade pressed gently against the back of her neck.

"Checkmate," I whispered.

"Not yet," Ara snarled, her eyes shifting past me—toward the car.

I followed her gaze.

Ivan.

He was still inside, eyes locked on me, unaware of the danger creeping up behind him.

One of the thugs had managed to sneak around, gun raised, finger on the trigger, aiming straight for Ivan's head.

I didn't think twice.

Instead of ending the fight with Ara, I spun on my heel and hurled the katana like a spear. It cut through the air with deadly precision—clean and silent.

Thwack.

The blade struck true.

The thug's head snapped back, lifeless, and his body collapsed near the car door.

Ivan froze, shocked. His wide eyes met mine.

But Ara took the momentary distraction to her advantage. Her blade slashed forward, grazing across my stomach. I gasped and staggered back. My sky blue dress quickly bloomed dark red.

The cut wasn't deep—I dodged in time—but it burned like fire.

Ivan started to open the door.

"No!" I signaled him sharply, trying to hold my stance despite the pain.

But of course... he didn't listen.

He stepped out, ignoring the chaos, and tossed the katana back toward me with all his strength.

I caught it mid-air, my grip tight, blood dripping from my fingers.

Breathing heavily, I shifted back into position. My eyes locked with Ara's.

"This ends now," I said through clenched teeth.

And this time, I meant it.

But then—my heart stopped.

A sharp pain pierced my chest.

It was like I couldn't breathe.

The katana trembled in my hand, and my knees nearly gave out.

No... not now.

I knew this feeling all too well.

Something deep inside me... had been triggered.

A part of me I've tried so hard to bury, to silence.

Her.

That darkness—cold, calculating, deadly.

She was clawing her way out.

No! I screamed inside my head. Not here. Not in front of him!

But it was too late.

The moment Ara's blade tasted my blood, something inside me snapped.

The world around me started to blur—like everything was moving in slow motion, except the pounding in my head.

I could feel her smile from the deepest corner of my soul.

And I was terrified of what she'd do next.

Allejah's POV

My chest tightened—tightened until it felt like iron chains were wrapped around my ribs. I couldn't breathe. My vision blurred, and my knees buckled.

Then I heard her.

"Oh why, oh my... what happened?" a mocking, sing-song voice from Ara.

Footsteps clicked against the dirt. Confident. Lazy. Sinister.

She had taken a step into the light.

Her once-soft eyes had become razor sharp—glinting with malice and amusement. The gentle calm in my aura had been replaced with something cold and lethal. The very air around her warped with her presence, thick with tension and dread.

"Poor, little Louise," she cooed, tilting her head as if scolding a child. "You're in pain again, aren't you? Let me handle this, like I always should have."

"You already killed someone," she whispered, the words poisonous. "So really, what's the difference between you and me now?"

"Let me show them what happens when they hurt what's mine."

Her weak, trembling breaths no longer plague me. I own this body now, every inch, every beat.

One more strike and I'll put her to rest—for good.

A hand reaches out—Ivan. His foolish attempt at comfort is met with a sharp shove. I push him away, watching as he stumbles back, eyes wide with disbelief.

"Who are you?" I hiss, my voice ice cutting through the tension. The man flinches, and I savor his fear. Good. Let them all fear.

The battlefield is mine.

Ivan looked up at her—confused, stunned. This wasn't Louise anymore. The warmth in her voice, the softness in her eyes... it was all gone.

Allejah stepped forward, her steps deliberate, elegant, deadly.

The ground beneath her seemed to tremble. Ara even took a step back, sensing something had changed.

Then it happened.

SNAP.

A sudden pulse ran through the air.

"Well, well... look who we have here."

I stepped forward, the katana gleaming in my hand, soaked slightly in crimson. My voice echoed through the quiet field, smooth yet dripping with venom.

Ara's eyes widened. Her feet faltered as she instinctively stepped back.

Good. She should be afraid.

"I was hoping Judas would show up," I added with a disappointed sigh. "But instead... I get his little puppet."

She tried to mask her fear, but I could feel it radiating off her skin. The tremble in her hand betrayed her.

"You should've let Louise end you earlier," I said, tilting my head. "At least your soul might've stood a chance."

Ara sneered. "You think you're stronger than her?"

I chuckled, cold and mocking.

"She is me. And I am her. But..." I took a step closer, letting the weight of my words crush the space between us.

"She's soft. Childish. Still clinging to the fantasy that justice ends with Judas."

My eyes narrowed.

"I'm not burdened by that illusion."

With a sudden dash, so fast she barely registered it, I was in front of her—my fingers wrapped tightly around her throat.

Ara choked, struggling in my grip, nails scratching against my skin. Futile.

I whispered, almost gently, "Let me show you how justice really feels."

In one swift motion, the katana sliced through the air—her left arm dropped to the ground, a scream erupting from her lungs.

Another movement—her right hand severed, flinging to the side like worthless scrap. She dropped to her knees, drenched in blood and disbelief.

I leaned closer, smiling darkly.

"You were never a challenge."

With one final, merciless swing, I severed her head.

It rolled onto the dirt, eyes wide open in horror. Her body collapsed shortly after, lifeless.

I stood tall, chest rising and falling slowly unbothered, composed, satisfied.

"Louise," a voice called from behind me.

I froze.

Something in that voice tugged at my chest—familiar, warm... painful.

I turned slowly, eyes narrowing. Him.

He looked shaken, horrified... lost.

"Who the hell are you?!" I barked, the rage flaring again as I pointed the bloodstained katana toward Ara's severed head.

"Do you want to end up like her?!"

He didn't flinch. He just stood there, staring at me—not with fear, but with something worse.

Recognition.

My breath hitched.

Why... why does my heart feel like it's being crushed?

I clutched my chest, staggered for a second.

What the hell is this?!

I raised the katana again, wanting to silence the pain—to erase him. But I couldn't.

My hand trembled.

Just looking at him... it's like dying.

"Master!"

I turned abruptly. Three familiar voices—finally.

Those idiots were always late.

They froze at the scene—Ara's decapitated body, bloodied earth, and my trembling form.

They dropped to their knees in unison. Trembling.

I smirked. "You're late. Too late."

My voice came out ice-cold despite the storm raging inside me.

"Clean this mess," I ordered with a flick of my hand.

Then I pointed to the only one of Judas's men who was still alive, crawling in terror.

"And that one... throw him where even rats won't find his bones."

Without another glance, I turned to the black motorbike the idiots had brought. My escape, my silence.

I straddled the seat, the engine growled to life beneath me.

Before speeding off, I gave one last look—he was still there, unmoving.

Why did he look like that?

Why does he look at me like... like he knows me?

I shook the thought away and vanished into the wind.

.............................................

Hi-Yu