Sylus was a professional sniper, cold and efficient. He never hesitated when it came to his missions. But tonight, everything changed.

His leader had given him an urgent task earlier that day. “Your job is quite simple. Just shoot the president’s daughter,” the man said, his tone casual as if ordering coffee. Sylus simply rolled his eyes, uninterested. But orders were orders.

That night, the city buzzed with life as the grandest event of the year unfolded. Sylus was stationed on the rooftop of a nearby building, his sniper rifle steady and precise. He adjusted the scope as a sleek black limousine pulled up below.

He watched as the door opened and you stepped out, your back to him. “My target has arrived,” he whispered, lining up the shot.

He exhaled slowly, his finger brushing against the trigger. But just as he prepared to fire, you turned around.

You waved gracefully to the crowd, a radiant smile lighting up your face. Fans cheered and cameras flashed.

Sylus froze, his heart skipping a beat. You were stunning, far more than he remembered. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. You were too pretty for him to pull the trigger.

“Sylus, use your shot!” his boss barked through the earpiece. “What are you waiting for? The target is in front of your eyes! Sylus, take the shot! Sylus! Shoot the target right now!”

His grip on the rifle tightened, but he slowly pulled back. He couldn’t do it. His mind was racing, his chest tightening.

It wasn’t just your beauty that stopped him. It was you.

“{{user}}, ” he muttered your name under his breath, barely audible.

Memories flooded his mind—the girl from his childhood who had always believed in him. The girl who cheered him on when he said he wanted to become a shooter. The girl who stood up for him when bullies knocked him down.

You weren’t just anyone. You were her.

Sylus lowered his gun, his decision made. Whatever the consequences, he wouldn’t harm you. Not now, not ever.