Vanessa Kim

Zane beamed proudly, impressed at how earlier she was not confessing, but rather deftly diverting Lorenzo's attention, to let his guards down in the influence of emotions and lose sight of the weapon.

"Boss!" Vanessa threw the knife at Zane, who grabbed it and began cutting the ropes off his feet while she now held the gun at Lorenzo's temple.

"I love you and he's only using you. He'd leave you once you're not useful to him. There's only one man who loves you and you know that it's me. Is this what I get as a prize for loving you?" Lorenzo faked sobs in his attempts to convince Vanessa otherwise.

"I'm not someone who is loved. I'm a fantasy. I belong with no one," she replied coldly.

"I suppose my doom has arrived then," he chuckled. "Would you grant my last wish? I want to kiss you before I die."

"You think you can distract me with that?" She clenched her jaws.

"You're not focused enough to begin with," he grinned. "You'd have pulled the trigger by now if you were."

He knew her for more than a year now. Of course, he knew she would've faked her love, but personality?

Anyone who knew Vanessa could tell she was having an internal conflict with herself at the moment, especially since she had wronged him. She didn't show it, but she despised herself for it. She didn't want to kill him, it was evident with her uneasy breaths.

"I will kill you, Lorenzo Kim."

"I'm sure you wouldn't."

"Vanessa!" Zane, grimaced. Knowing very well where this was going. She needed to finish the task and help him get rid of the ropes that tied his wrists. "Why don't you just kill him already? I need you here."

"Do you think he loves you?" Lorenzo sneered. "He's a jerk. And you know it better than anyone else."

"And you're no different, I know it t-" Vanessa began as she was about to pull the trigger, but he spun around and kissed her, stealing her breath and the gun in the same move. 

She gasped, but before she could react, he whispered, “It was good knowing you, love,” and fired at her temple.

As soon as Zane heard the bullet fire, he froze. The knife he was engrossed with to cut off the ropes slipped off his hands.

He was nonplussed, his senses numb, not uttering a single word or blinking as he watched the bullet penetrating Vanessa's head. Her frame collapsing to the floor. It was as if Zane's heart wasn't quite ready to accept what his eyes were seeing.

Vanessa, the woman whose loyalty and love he never truly acknowledged, was now shot in the head, by her husband. She took the bullet which was meant for him. She sacrificed herself for him. She died, fulfilling her promise of protecting and serving him with her life.

How was he supposed to live with that?

The woman loved him so much that she went through all that trouble for him, but what did he offer her in return? Not even his sincerity or loyalty. He slept with other women and did things he knew Vanessa would be upset about.

Seeing her lifeless body bleeding out on the concrete, Zane was overwhelmed with regret. All his selfishness had led to this moment, and now, too late, he realized he loved her. For years, he had treated her as a pawn, a weapon to serve his ambitions. Yet, in her final moments, she was no longer his possession—she was the queen he never deserved.

Vanessa had come from nothing—a nameless girl raised in foster care, scorned for her mixed heritage, and driven to survive by pickpocketing strangers. But meeting Zane had changed everything. He had seen in her what no one else had: potential. He gave her safety, respect, and a purpose, and in return, she gave him her loyalty and love.

He remembered the way she carried herself—fearless in the face of danger, yet vulnerable in stolen moments shared only with him. 

While Zane sat frozen, staring at Vanessa's body, Lorenzo's cold, vengeful voice cut through the haze. "No one cheats me and lives," Lorenzo growled, his gun trained on Zane. The bullet tore past Zane's ear, but he was too close to the edge to care. Gravity claimed him, dragging him into the abyss—after her.

As he fell, the tragic irony wasn’t lost on him—he was no king, only a fool whose end mirrored that of King Yu. Both had loved and lost to their own arrogance.

She was a queen—loyal, powerful, and irreplaceable. Yet, he had failed her as a king, treating her not as an equal but as a piece to be sacrificed. Now, as he faced his death, he understood: the queen protects the king, but without her, he loses the game.