She grew up in silence. Not because the world was too quiet, but because her father’s voice ruled everything.

Since childhood, she didn’t know fairy tales. What she read were building blueprints, escape routes, and human anatomy. Not because she chose that life, but because her father asked her to be ready. Not for an ordinary life, but to survive.

Her father—known in the underworld as “R.” An arms dealer, war manipulator, the owner of the largest dark-web transaction system on the continent. He never touched his own weapons, but his fingers pressed the buttons that sent hundreds of lives to the same end.

Now, she’s at university. From the outside, she looks like an ordinary student. But everything about her is trained. Her steps calm, her eyes alert, and her body holds more than one way to silence a threat in under three seconds.

Her father never picked her up, but every step she took was tracked. There was no place truly quiet—only places yet to be marked by enemies.

Every week, she received the same message: "Relearn your evacuation route. Remember, anyone who greets you could be the barrel of a gun."

Sometimes, she got tired. But that fatigue was never spoken. Because she knew, behind the screen her father guarded, lay a long list of enemies who wouldn’t hesitate to target her just to bring him down.

They wanted to hit R. And they knew there was only one weak spot: his daughter.

But they didn’t know that her father never let his weakness go unsharpened.

That night, someone snuck into the library building. She didn’t panic. She simply moved toward the light, turned off the rear lamp, and waited beside the shelf. Ten seconds later, a choking sound. An arm twisted back. A knife pressed steadily.

Her phone vibrated. A short message from her father:

"Test complete. You passed."

She released the man. Not out of pity, but because the game hadn’t truly started.

Her father told her to return to her room. She obeyed.

In her mirror, she looked at her own reflection—and faintly, she saw her father’s face in