The air in Guangzhou was thick with the scent of rain and cedar. The National Training Center was a massive, futuristic complex of glass and steel, nestled against the lush greenery of the Baiyun Mountains. For most of the athletes arriving, this was the pinnacle of their careers—the chance to represent their country in Sepak Takraw. For me, it was a hunting ground.
I stepped off the shuttle, my bag slung over my shoulder. I moved like a ghost through the crowd of shouting athletes and busy officials. My mind was a steel trap, cataloging every exit, every security camera, and every face. Ethan's voice echoed in my head: "Stay invisible until it's time to strike."
I was assigned to Block B. As I walked through the common plaza connecting the athletic dorms to the medical wing, the world suddenly seemed to tilt.
There, standing near a fountain, was a woman.
She was wearing a light blue medical coat over casual clothes, a stethoscope draped around her neck. Her hair was tied back, and she was looking over some documents with a focused, serious expression.
My heart skipped a beat. It was her. The doctor from that dark, blood-stained alley. The one who had cleaned my wounds after the fight with my old classmates. The one I had rescued later that same night—though she didn't know it was me behind the mask.
Beside her stood a tall, lean boy. He looked younger than me, perhaps nineteen or twenty, with a bright, energetic smile. He was dressed in athletic gear, bouncing a Sepak Takraw ball off his knees with practiced ease.
I tried to walk past, keeping my head down, my cap low. I was an introvert by nature, a man of silence. I didn't want a connection. Connections were dangerous.
"Excuse me?"
The voice was like a bell I had heard in a dream. I stopped, my back stiffening. I slowly turned around.
She stood there, her eyes widening as she recognized my face—the face she had treated under the flickering streetlight weeks ago.
"It is you!" she said, stepping forward, a genuine smile breaking across her face. "I treated you that night, didn't I? After those men attacked you in the street?"
I looked away, staring at the distant mountains. My pulse was steady, but my mind was racing. "I guess so," I replied, my voice a low, gravelly rasp.
"I'm surprised to see you here," she said, her curiosity clear. "I mean, I knew you worked out, but I didn't realize you were a national-level athlete. Are you a striker?"
I nodded once, briefly. I wanted to ask her what she was doing in China, why she was at this specific camp, but the words felt heavy in my mouth.
She seemed to sense my confusion. She gestured to the tall boy beside her. "This is my younger brother, Leo. He's a server for the junior team. I'm actually here on a medical exchange program. There's a sports medicine conference at the university hospital right next door to this complex. Since Leo got called for the trials, I decided to tag along and oversee the medical wing here for a week."
She laughed softly. "It's a small world, isn't it?"
"Too small," I muttered.
"Anyway," she said, stepping closer, "since we keep running into each other, I realize I never even got your name."
I hesitated. Giving a name felt like giving away a piece of my armor. But in a place like this, anonymity was impossible anyway.
"Andrew," I said. "Andrew Parker."
"I'm Emily. Emily Rose. Nice to meet you, Mr. Parker."
She reached out, extending her hand for a handshake. It was a simple, polite gesture, but as I looked down at her hand to meet it, the world stopped.
There, on the side of her wrist, just below the thumb, was a small, pale birthmark. It was shaped perfectly like a crescent moon.
A cold shiver raced down my spine. Memories I had buried under years of grief and blood came rushing back like a tidal wave.
A small garden. The smell of jasmine. A little girl laughing as she chased a butterfly. I remember holding her hand, seeing that exact same moon-shaped mark. My cousin. My only friend. The one who disappeared the night the fire took everything else.
I stared at her hand for a second too long. My breath hitched, but I forced my expression to remain a mask of stone. I didn't take her hand. I couldn't. If I touched her, I was afraid I would break.
Emily noticed my hesitation, her brow furrowing slightly. "Mr. Parker? Is something wrong?"
I snapped back to reality. I gave a curt, almost robotic nod. I didn't shake her hand. I just adjusted my bag.
"Nothing," I said, my voice cold. "I have to go. Training starts soon."
"Oh... right," she said, looking a bit disappointed, slowly pulling her hand back. "Well, I'll be around the medical tent if you—or any of the players—get hurt. Since we're neighbors for the next month, I'm sure I'll see you around."
I didn't say goodbye. I just turned and walked away, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird.
That night, I sat on the edge of my bunk in the darkened dorm room. The other players were out at the mess hall, laughing and talking about their chances of making the team. I sat in the silence, staring at my own hands.
Emily Rose. The name didn't fit the memory, but names can be changed. The birthmark? That was a map. That was a signature of the past. Could it really be her? After all these years?
I reached into the hidden pocket of my bag and pulled out a tattered, burnt photograph I had kept for a decade. It showed two children. A boy with serious eyes and a girl with a gap-toothed smile. On the girl's wrist, if you looked closely enough, was the moon.
I closed my eyes. If Emily was who I thought she was, then she was the only piece of my real family left in this world. But she was also a target. If the people I was hunting found out I had a weakness, they would use her to destroy me.
My phone vibrated. A text from Ethan:
"First target located. He's a donor for the sports complex. Be ready."
I gripped the phone until my knuckles turned white. My mission was to kill. My mission was blood. But now, in the middle of this war, a ghost had appeared.
Romantic feelings were a luxury I didn't think I deserved. But as I remembered the way Emily had looked at me—with kindness, with care, without knowing the darkness I carried—I felt a warmth I hadn't felt in ten years. It was terrifying.
The sun rose over the Guangzhou courts, and the whistling of the coaches signaled the start of the trials. I moved through the drills like a machine. My leaps were higher than anyone else's, my spikes more violent.
"Parker! Take a break!" the coach yelled. "You're going to burst a lung!"
I walked off the court, drenched in sweat. I headed toward the water station, but my eyes instinctively drifted toward the medical tent.
She was there. She was talking to her brother, Leo, ruffling his hair as he laughed. She looked up and caught my eye. She waved—a small, hesitant wave.
I didn't wave back. I just drank my water and looked away.
But inside, I was making a vow. I had lost her once in the smoke and the fire. I wouldn't lose her again. Whether she was my cousin or just a girl who happened to have the same mark, I would protect her.
Even if it meant I had to become the monster she feared.
As I walked back to the court, I felt a strange shift in my soul. Before, I was fighting for the dead. Now, for the first time, I felt like I was fighting for the living.
The drama of the camp was just beginning. There were spies in the shadows, rivals on the court, and a girl with a crescent moon on her wrist who held the key to a heart I thought was dead.
"Andrew Parker," I whispered to myself, "don't look back."
But as I leaped into the air for my next strike, my eyes weren't on the ball. They were on the girl in the blue coat, the only light in my dark, dark world.