👤 Male Lead:

Name: Ruveil Caius Valen

Age: 30

Origin: Monaco (Half French, half Russian)

Occupation: Billionaire Tech CEO + Underground Syndicate Boss

Personality:

Obsessive. Cold. Strategic.

Speaks in low, commanding tones.

Possessive beyond reason.

Has a dark moral code—kills for loyalty, punishes betrayal with precision.

Emotionally numb… until her.

Likes:

Classical piano (only plays when he's overwhelmed)

Expensive wines

Control. Silence. Her.

Watching her sleep — he says that’s when the world is quiet enough to feel alive.

Dislikes:

Chaos he didn’t create

People touching her

Losing control

Family:

Father: † Caius Valen (Brutal syndicate leader, murdered in a power war)

Mother: Amélie Rousseau (distant, manipulative socialite)

No siblings — raised alone with bodyguards and blood-stained rules

Considers trust a myth. Until her.

👩🏻‍🩰 Female Lead:

Name: Anerah Elise Moreno

Age: 21

Origin: Valencia, Spain

Occupation: Literature student + Part-time library archivist

Personality:

Gentle but sharp-minded

Introverted dreamer, drawn to poetry and old books

Always curious, never afraid to speak her truth

Has a fragile innocence—but hides a fire even she doesn’t fully know

Likes:

Reading vintage poetry

Rainy mornings

Lavender tea

Freedom, which feels more like a memory than a right

Dislikes:

Being watched

Being underestimated

The color red — she doesn’t know why (yet)

Family:

Father: Miguel Moreno (Hospital director)

Mother: † Laila Moreno (Died in a fire when Anerah was 8 — truth is more twisted)

Younger brother: Emil (Age 13 — innocent, her soft spot)

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A Name He Shouldn't Have Known

Setting: University auditorium. Valencia, Spain. Afternoon sun filters through tall glass windows. Light wind outside. Time slows.

He hated crowds.

The clatter of applause.

The forced pleasantries.

The smell of too much perfume and pride.

And yet, Ruveil Valen sat still — poised, detached — in the front row of the auditorium, watching the ceremony unfold with a patience he didn't feel.

He was only here as a formality — a "philanthropic appearance."

Some scholarship his company funded.

Some college he didn’t care for.

Some stage filled with faces that blurred together.

Until she walked onto it.

Anerah Elise Moreno.

The announcer spoke her name with polite enthusiasm,

but for Ruveil — it echoed.

Not because it was familiar.

But because it felt… wrong.

Too soft to exist in this world.

Too light for a room filled with shadows.

She stepped forward to receive her award —

a delicate thing in a plain white blouse and ink-stained fingers.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

Eyes down. Smile quiet. Movements gentle.

Like wind moving across water.

Something about her made time stumble.

And for the first time in months,

Ruveil stopped thinking.

He didn't blink.

He didn’t breathe.

He just watched.

She accepted the certificate, bowed slightly, and turned—

and for a fleeting second,

her gaze brushed the audience.

Not searching.

Not knowing.

Just existing.

And yet it found him.

A pair of warm brown eyes—flecked with gold—met his.

Only for half a heartbeat.

Maybe less.

But it was enough.

His jaw clenched.

His mind whispered:

> “What the hell was that?”

And something deep—buried, brutal, and ancient—moved.

She walked off stage,

returning to her seat like nothing had happened.

Like she didn’t just collide with a storm wearing a suit.

But Ruveil...

He leaned back. Fingers steepled. Eyes locked.

“Anerah Elise Moreno.”

He tasted the name.

Like a sin.

Like an answer.

Like a promise.

He came here to deliver a speech.

Now all he wanted

was to know why the air felt thinner without her in it.

She Never Left His Mind-

He hasn’t seen her since the award ceremony. But she hasn’t left.

---

It had been three weeks.

Three cities.

Nine boardrooms.

Dozens of faces and contracts and security briefings.

And yet—

he remembered nothing from them.

Nothing.

Except her.

---

Her eyes.

Large. Shiny.

Like they were holding stories too scared to fall out.

Her lips.

Soft. Plump. Almost parted when their eyes met—

as if she had something to say,

but didn’t.

Didn’t need to.

He remembered the way her fingers clutched the certificate—tightly—like it meant more than paper.

The slight tilt of her head.

The calmness in her chaos.

He remembered how the sun had kissed her skin,

how her presence had made the room too loud and too quiet all at once.

---

He had tried to forget.

Brushed it off as mere fascination.

A chemical misfire.

Something primal and fleeting.

He even said it aloud one night—

> “It was nothing.”

“A moment. That’s all.”

But the lie tasted stale every time.

---

Because he remembered too much.

Too precisely.

Too intimately for a man who had never touched her.

Never spoken her name out loud.

Never been close enough to hear her voice.

> “Anerah Elise Moreno.”

He only read it once.

But it replayed in his mind like scripture.

---

And when he closed his eyes—

She was there.

In white. In light.

In silence.

Looking at him like she didn’t know what he was.

Like she didn’t fear it.

Like she didn’t belong in this world… but somehow, in his.

---

He called it nothing.

He called it a phase.

He called it lust.

But obsession never needs permission to bloom.

And he was already past the point of return.

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The Distraction He Won’t Name

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The city blinked beneath his office windows —

a sea of lights stretching into fog.

But Ruveil wasn’t looking.

He stood with his back to it, arms crossed,

eyes focused on the untouched folder on his desk.

His assistant had said something about a merger.

Or maybe it was a lawsuit.

He didn’t care.

Not tonight.

Not when her face kept showing up behind his closed lids like a painting his mind refused to smudge.

---

It was pathetic, really.

He barely knew her.

A girl.

A student.

One accidental glance and she’d built a home in the back of his skull.

He hadn’t seen her since the ceremony.

And still—

> “Doe-like eyes.”

“Ink-stained fingertips.”

“Lips that looked too soft to lie.”

He cursed under his breath.

This wasn’t normal.

---

He tried to distract himself—

Meetings. Weapons trades.

Dinners with women who laughed too loud and wore perfume too sharp.

But even in bed with someone else,

he found himself annoyed.

Irritated.

Because their eyes weren’t hers.

Because no one looked at him like she had—

like she didn’t know who he was,

and still didn’t care to fear it.

---

At 2:17 AM,

he found himself standing by the floor-to-ceiling window, phone in hand.

Thumb hovering over a secure line.

To his intel team.

A single command away from—

No.

He turned the screen off.

Locked his jaw.

He wouldn’t do it.

He wouldn’t search for her.

> “It was a distraction.”

“It’ll pass.”

He told himself the same thing last week.

And the week before that.

But tonight, the lies were quieter.

And the silence she left behind was louder.

---

Then—almost absently—he murmured into the dark:

> “Anerah Elise Moreno.”

Her name curled around his mouth like smoke.

Like sin.

Like a promise he hadn’t made yet…

but already intended to keep.

---

Setting: His office. One call. One name. No return.

By the fourth week, Ruveil stopped lying to himself.

He tapped the encrypted line.

The screen glowed blue.

A breath. A pause. A war lost.

> “I need eyes on a student,” he said, voice low. “Name — Anerah Elise Moreno.”

The man on the other end didn’t ask why.

No one questioned him.

They just obeyed.

> “Keep it clean. No spooking. I want intel, not noise.”

“Where she goes. Who she meets. What she dreams of, if possible.”

He ended the call.

Tossed the phone on his desk.

Paced.

This wasn’t about control.

It was about knowing.

That’s what he told himself.

He just… wanted to understand her.

---

Two Days Later — Confidential File: OPENED

> ✦ Age: 21

✦ Student: Literature major, Valencia Arts University

✦ GPA: Excellent

✦ Lives: With younger brother, Emil Moreno, 13

✦ Guardian: Father — Miguel Moreno (Hospital Director)

✦ Mother: † Laila Moreno — died in house fire (age 8)

✦ Notes: Low social activity. Walks to college. Part-time at the central archive.

✦ No boyfriend. No close male connections.

✦ Schedule: Mon/Wed/Fri classes, library evenings. Sundays— cemetery visit.

His finger paused on that last line.

Cemetery visit.

Every week.

Same time.

Same bench.

He didn't know why—

but the ache that stirred inside him wasn’t curiosity.

It was something colder.

Something closer to protectiveness.

---

Later That Week — He Watches From Afar

She was real.

She wasn’t a dream his mind clung to at 3am.

She walked like silence.

Carried a bag too heavy for her frame.

Tucked her hair behind her ears with tired fingers.

He sat in the black car across the street—windows tinted.

Watching her as she crossed into the library.

Brown coat. Coffee in hand. Book against her chest.

She didn’t know.

Didn’t look around.

Didn’t sense the storm keeping pace with her shadow.

But he watched.

Every step. Every glance.

Like she belonged to him

before she even knew he existed.

---

🕊 Meanwhile: Anerah’s Side

She doesn’t know. But something... shifts.

Lately, she couldn’t shake the feeling.

Like the world was listening.

Like the wind knew her name.

She told herself it was stress.

Finals. Work. Nightmares.

But still—

Every time she stepped out of class,

she’d glance back.

Every time she walked home,

her spine prickled with the sense that she wasn’t… alone.

Not in a scary way.

Just... watched.

Silently.

Closely.

Almost protectively.

And for some twisted reason—

it didn’t make her afraid.

It made her curious.

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The Calm in His Storm

He’s losing grip. His obsession no longer feels silent. It aches now.

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He hated this feeling.

The waiting.

The watching.

The wanting.

Ruveil Caius Valen — man feared in boardrooms and back alleys alike —

was reduced to sitting in a car on a cold afternoon, watching a girl organize books in a dusty library.

Pathetic.

He knew it.

It grated at him.

Gnawed at the back of his mind like a cigarette he didn’t light.

---

> “Why the hell am I doing this?”

“Why her?”

He'd stared down men who begged for mercy.

He'd walked away from everything and everyone.

But this girl—

with her soft voice and ink-stained hands—

she unraveled him.

And yet…

every time he saw her, the world fell quiet.

No noise.

No weight.

Just peace.

Like a drug his veins now needed.

Like a memory he hadn’t earned.

---

That day, he broke his own rule.

He stepped out of the car.

No bodyguards.

No distance.

No darkness to shield him.

Just him—

in a coat worth more than her tuition,

walking through the narrow sidewalk

as if he had every right to be near her.

---

She was standing near the cafe next to her college gates—talking to a barista, smiling politely.

And for a moment—just one—

she turned.

Her gaze brushed his.

Not in a dramatic, slow-motion kind of way.

Just soft. Unaware.

Like how wind grazes skin.

She looked. She blinked. She looked away.

But he didn’t.

He stared.

Every cell screamed to reach out—

but he didn’t move.

---

Because peace didn’t need to be touched.

It just needed to be…

felt.

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🕊 From Her POV – That Same Moment

Anerah adjusted the bag on her shoulder, thanked the barista, and turned—

Only for her eyes to catch someone across the street.

A man in a dark coat. Tall. Still.

Looking straight at her.

But when her gaze met his —

there was no reaction.

No smile. No twitch.

Just... eyes like ice melted by fire.

She looked away quickly.

But something inside her stilled.

Like time paused,

then exhaled.

> “Weird,” she whispered under her breath.

“Why did that feel like... something?”

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