SHADOWLESS LOVE

Deep within the dense, uncharted woods on the farthest edge of the metropolis, hidden from all but the most advanced satellite surveillance, lay the headquarters of the GHOST Fleet. Encased by towering oaks and a labyrinth of thorny underbrush, the facility was a fortress of secrecy. To an outsider, it would appear as an untouched forest, yet behind the natural barricades was a compound pulsated with covert energy.

The HQ was an engineering masterstroke: ten five-story buildings arranged in a circular formation. Each served a distinct purpose. Three were allocated for rigorous training, where recruits were honed into formidable agents. Two housed active operatives, their quarters a stark reminder of the dangers they braved daily. One was devoted to developing and storing advanced weaponry, brimming with prototypes that could rewrite the rules of warfare. The most remote structure was a hub of experimentation, dedicated to chemical and psychological warfare; its sterile halls were a cauldron of sinister innovation.

But the centerpiece, the crown jewel of the HQ, was the only two-story building—a sleek and foreboding construct of steel and glass. Known as The Pantheon, it was the exclusive domain of the ten most elite agents of GHOST Fleet. These ten were legends—killers and informants with a perfect success rate. They were revered and feared in equal measure, their code names whispered like myths: The Pantheon.

The Encounter

"Hmm, she managed to kill the President."

The man's voice, a gravelly baritone, reverberated through the dimly lit room. He reclined in a high-backed chair of polished ebony, his single eye—a dark abyss framed by a black eyepatch—fixed on the young man standing before him. The boy, no older than twenty, shifted uneasily, his sharp monolid eyes narrowing.

"Kim Jae," the older man drawled, a smirk curling his lips. "If you keep glaring at me like that, you'll burn a hole in my face."

Jae's tall frame stiffened, his youthful features betraying an innocence that clashed with his formidable presence. He was the Chief Executive's right hand, and though he exuded a sense of duty, his unease was palpable.

"Chief, why did you give her such a dangerous mission?" Jae asked, his tone teetering between confusion and accusation.

The Chief chuckled, his fingers toying with the rim of a whiskey glass. "Because no one else could do it." He swirled the amber liquid and downed it in one motion, a sigh of satisfaction escaping him. "She's our Shadow Hunter."

Before Jae could press further, the room's atmosphere shifted. The heavy black door swung open silently, revealing a figure that moved with ghostly grace. Erika, known only by her alias Shadow Hunter, stepped into the room. Her cold blue eyes, devoid of emotion, swept over Jae before locking onto the Chief. The very air seemed to freeze.

"Do I have another mission, Chief?" she asked, her voice calm yet sharp as a blade.

The Chief leaned back, an amused glint in his remaining eye. "You should ask for a reward instead, Shadow Hunter."

"You won't give me what I want," she replied flatly.

Her words ignited a strange spark in the Chief's eye. He gestured to Jae. "Bring me the red file from the shelf."

The room was a reflection of its occupant—minimalistic yet heavy with intimidation. Dark wood dominated the walls, and shelves lined with classified documents and ancient texts loomed over a white cupboard that seemed out of place amidst the gloom. Jae retrieved the red file, its cover ominously unmarked, and handed it to Erika.

She opened it without hesitation, her cold demeanor fracturing as she froze mid-breath. The color drained from her face.

"You... want me to kill him?" Her voice, usually steady, trembled with a mix of disbelief and anger.

The Chief laughed, a sound as unsettling as it was triumphant. "Kill him? No, no, Shadow Hunter. I don't want you to kill him."

Her eyes narrowed. "Then why am I the one holding this file? Find someone else. I won't do this."

Jae, who had been silent, interjected sharply. "Why are you being so difficult? It's just another mission."

Erika turned on him, her glare as icy as her voice. "Why don't you take this 'mission'? Oh wait—you wouldn't last a day in his world."

"Enough," the Chief's voice sliced through the tension. He leaned forward, his casual air replaced with a commanding presence. "You won't kill him. That's not the mission."

"Then what is it?" Erika demanded, her voice cold but faltering.

The Chief's lips curled into a cruel smile. "You're going to marry him. You'll become part of his inner circle. That's how you'll get to the man who killed your parents."

The room seemed to shrink as the words settled over her. Erika's grip on the file tightened, her knuckles white. Slowly, her gaze dropped to the photo within.

It was a face she knew all too well.

A face that had haunted her dreams and her nightmares.

A face she had loved.

A face she had lost ten years ago.