Avyanna's Origin

"Hide, Avyanna!" her father shouted, his voice filled with fear and urgency. Avyanna could clearly hear the loud gunshots outside their room. Her hands trembled as she slowly peeked through a small hole in the wall. Her eyes widened in shock when she saw men dressed in black tuxedos engaged in an intense battle against enemies dressed just like them.

"Dad! What’s happening? Why is this happening? Why are there gunshots outside?" Avyanna asked in rapid succession, barely able to breathe from fear. Tonight was supposed to be one of the happiest days of her life—her quinceañera. But instead of joy and music, the air was filled with screams, gunfire, and blood.

"I can’t explain it anymore, please just go to the secret base! Hide, do not come out!" her father urged in panic. Suddenly, they heard loud banging on the door, making their hearts pound faster. Avyanna looked at her father, fear written all over his face. Her mother, on the other hand, sat pale and weak in a chair, looking drained of energy.

"Mom, Dad! Let’s go! Let’s leave now!" Avyanna pleaded, but her mother only shook her head.

"Go on your own, Avyanna. Leave now!" her mother shouted, followed by a violent cough. Avyanna turned pale when she saw blood staining her mother’s white dress. She stepped back, unsure whether to approach her. But before she could move, her mother pointed a gun at her.

"Don’t come near me! Leave now, Avyanna!" her mother ordered firmly, her tear-filled eyes burning with determination. Avyanna couldn’t believe what she was seeing—why was her own mother aiming a gun at her? But before she could process it, the massive doors to her room suddenly burst open.

"Avyanna! Get out of here!" her mother screamed. Without hesitation, she ran toward a secret passage hidden in the corner of the room. From there, she saw armed men storm inside. Before she could say anything, gunfire echoed through the room.

"Where’s the heiress?" one of the men demanded. They searched every corner, checking every possible hiding place, but they couldn’t find her. The secret base where she was hiding was impossible to discover—no amount of bullets or explosives could penetrate it. It was bulletproof and reinforced by her father, a place only she knew about.

"Boss, the heiress isn’t here," one of the men reported.

"Idiots! Find her! She can’t have escaped yet!" their apparent leader barked. His men searched again but still failed to locate her.

"She’s really not here, boss. Maybe she got away," another one said.

No one knew her—she was a ghost to the world. This night was supposed to mark her introduction as the daughter of a mafia boss, but fate had decided otherwise. As the heiress of a powerful family, she could never live in peace. The danger didn’t end with her parents; it would follow her for the rest of her life.

"Burn this house down! That’s the boss’s order. But before that, slit their throats—then burn everything!" the leader commanded coldly. His men obeyed without hesitation.

Avyanna watched in horror as her parents met their gruesome fate—their throats slit without a chance to fight back. She clamped a hand over her mouth, suppressing the scream threatening to escape. She knew that even if they couldn’t see her, they could still hear her. She had to stay silent.

After the bloodbath, the enemies set the mansion on fire. The flames spread quickly, and Avyanna could do nothing but cry as she watched all their memories turn to ashes.

She looked at herself—cowering in a corner, trembling with fear, yet deep inside, a fire of rage was beginning to burn. She spotted an old dress nearby and hurriedly changed into it to conceal her elegant gown. The heat was growing unbearable, so she moved quickly. She grabbed a black bag that had been prepared long ago—it contained money, gold, a gun, and important documents.

Once she ensured her safety, she made her way to a secret passage leading to the mansion’s hidden garden. There, she found a shovel. Without hesitation, she started digging. She worked tirelessly until the hole was deep enough to hide her bag. She swore she would return for it one day. But before leaving, she decided to take the money—there was no use in burying something that could help her survive.

After securing everything, she slowly stood up and turned to look at the burning mansion. What was once a place of joy was now reduced to ashes. Her family was gone. But one thing remained in her heart—rage.

"I swear, Mom and Dad, I’ll seek revenge on those who killed you," she whispered, her voice weak but resolute. Wiping away her tears, she secured the gun at her waist and walked away, carrying the vow to one day return and avenge her family.

She walked tirelessly, with no clear destination in mind—she just needed to get away. The night had faded into dawn, yet she kept moving forward. The exhaustion in her bones was undeniable, but stopping wasn’t an option. As she passed by a large mirror outside a store, she caught a glimpse of herself. She looked like a mess—her hair disheveled, her clothes stained and torn.

Reaching into her pocket, she felt the money she had taken with her. A boutique stood across the street, but it was still closed. With no other choice, she sat on a nearby bench, hugging herself against the cold morning air. It wasn’t just the chill she had to endure—people had begun to fill the streets, and she could feel their eyes on her, their judgment clear. To them, she was nothing more than a beggar, a lost soul among the crowd.

Unable to bear the stares any longer, she decided to leave, searching for a quieter place where she could rest undisturbed. But as she tried to stand, a sudden wave of dizziness washed over her. She forced herself to move, but her legs gave out, and she collapsed onto the ground.

She tried again, but her body refused to obey.

"Please… help me," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

As her vision blurred, she saw a figure approaching. A strange sense of comfort washed over her, and just before she lost consciousness, a final thought crossed her mind.

"Is this… my guardian angel?"

And then, darkness.

The first thing she noticed when she woke up was the scent of incense lingering in the air. The room was dimly lit, shadows stretching across the walls. Fear curled deep inside her chest as she scanned her surroundings, trying to make sense of where she was. Her first instinct was to look for her gun.

Her eyes darted to the bedside table—it was there. Without hesitation, she grabbed it, her grip tight, her body on high alert. Every muscle tensed as she pointed the gun toward the door, waiting for someone to enter.

Moments later, the door creaked open. A tall man, standing at least six feet, appeared before her. Out of instinct, she aimed the gun directly at him.

Shock flashed across his face before he let out a small, amused scoff.

"Is that how you treat someone who saved your life?" he asked, raising a brow.

She hesitated but slowly lowered her gun—though she remained wary, her fingers still resting on the trigger.

"My boss wants to see you," the man continued. "You can’t stay here for free. If you want to ensure your safety, you’ll need to work for it."

She simply nodded, saying nothing.

As she followed the man—who had yet to introduce himself—she stayed silent, her sharp eyes scanning the place. The halls were dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of smoke and something metallic. Every step echoed slightly, filling the quiet tension between them.

Then, they stopped in front of a massive door. It was so imposing that she instinctively stepped back.

"Enter," a deep baritone voice commanded from the other side.

She hesitated for a second before stepping forward, pushing the heavy door open.

Inside, a man sat behind a desk, exuding an air of power and dominance. His sharp gaze landed on her, studying her with an unreadable expression.

"How can I help you?" he asked.

She turned slightly, glancing at the man who had brought her here. His expression was unreadable, but his gaze told her one thing: Tell him you need a job.

Taking a deep breath, she faced the boss and spoke.

"A job."

The man chuckled—a deep, mocking sound.

"What could a girl like you possibly do? You couldn’t even defend yourself!" he laughed, shaking his head.

She remained unfazed. "I can use myself as a weapon."

At that, the boss’s amusement shifted into something more calculating. A slow smile spread across his face, though she couldn’t tell if it was good or bad.

"Are you trying to impress me—"

"I’m not," she interrupted.

His smile widened. "Are you sure?"

"As sure as I can be. I need a job."

His eyes gleamed with interest. "You insist, huh? Fine. Sign this."

A black piece of paper was tossed onto the desk in front of her. She picked it up, but the writing was unreadable.

"How can I sign an agreement without knowing what it says—"

"Do you want a job or not?" the boss cut her off, his tone leaving no room for argument.

She clenched her jaw. It was a risk, but she had no other choice.

Without another word, she signed it.