The hospital lights were bright, sterile, and humming with quiet tension. Nuong lay unconscious, the color slowly returning to her face. Dalis sat outside the operating room with clenched hands and tearful eyes, her guilt a crushing weight. Pisal stood beside her, his blue suit stained with faint traces of blood and dust, the collar loosened after hours of stress.
"She's stable," Pisal said, exhaling a breath of relief. "But she lost a lot of blood. We were lucky Dr. Jackson Wang was still in the building."
Dalis looked up, confused. "Doctor… Jackson?"
Pisal gave a small nod. "My mentor. Brilliant surgeon. He was born in China but spent years working with high-level bio-medical labs in Russia before coming here. Some say he's a miracle worker."
Inside the operating room, Jackson Wang peeled off his gloves with precision. His youthful face, almost too perfect for a man his age, was calm—but his hands trembled slightly as he approached the sink. The scent of fresh blood still clung to his fingers. As he turned on the water, the soft gurgle of the faucet was drowned by a sudden, deafening echo in his mind.
Screams.
A girl's innocent laughter turned to terror.
His daughter's voice.
"Bàba?"
His chest clenched. He leaned over the sink, gripping the porcelain edge until it cracked slightly beneath his strength. The cold water did nothing to wash away the memory. His body trembles like he tries to hide something; pain.
"Control," he whispered to himself in Mandarin. "Control, Jackson."
The door creaked open.
"You did great," Pisal said, stepping in. "Thank you."
Jackson looked up, composing himself. The ghost of a smile touched his lips. "You've improved, Pisal. Your sutures were flawless. You'll be a better surgeon than me one day."
"I doubt that," Pisal said quietly, noting the cracks in the sink but choosing not to mention it.
Jackson's smile faded. "Tell no one I was here today. Let them think it was you. The less they know of me... the better."
As he turned to leave, his footsteps made no sound. Like a shadow disappearing into the wall. Leaving Pisal puzzled alone: his teacher had always been like that, unpredictable, talented, and … mysterious.
Outside, Dalis glanced at the room, worry etched across her face.
"I owe her everything," she said. "She saved me. If there's anything I can do for her—" She turned to Piseth, who had just arrived. His black suit was still crisp, his presence as sharp as a blade. "Please. I want to ask you a favor."
Piseth looked down at the girl who nearly died for his sister. Then at Dalis, whose eyes pleaded with sincerity.
He nodded once.
"To be continued…"
The iron door clanged shut behind him.
The cell was dim, gray, and smelled of rusted metal and old sweat. Ma stood still in the center, hands behind his back, posture straight as ever. The guard who escorted him in dared not look him in the eyes. Even in handcuffs, Ma exuded power—his stare could cut deeper than any blade.
He didn't speak.
He didn't need to.
The other inmates whispered his name like a curse. "That's Ma… the one who made an entire district silent for a week." No one knew exactly what he did. No one ever would. That was the point.
He sat on the metal bench, crossed one leg over the other, eyes steady on the concrete floor. Calm. Unbothered. Cold.
But inside…
His mind was burning.
The girl who took the bullet. Dalis... did she get away? Is she safe?
He clenched his jaw so tight it ached. But not a flicker of emotion escaped his face. He couldn't afford it. Not here. Not ever.
If the world knew what he had done, why he wanted Dalis back—not as a pawn, not as power, but as a promise made when he was just a boy—it would ruin him. A mafia boss moved by old memories and broken family ties? Unacceptable.
He replayed the last moment again in his mind: Dalis running, Samphors screaming, the gunshot—and Nuong, that child, bleeding on the ground. His stomach twisted, but his eyes stayed steel.
A guard paused outside the bars, holding a report.
"She's still alive," he said carefully, not making eye contact.
Ma didn't move. His lips curled just slightly into a smirk. "Good."
"Should we—notify anyone?" the guard asked, hesitantly.
Ma turned his head, slowly, his stare locking with the guard's soul. "No."
The guard backed away without another word.
Ma leaned back against the cold wall. Dalis... I will find a way. Even if I have to walk through hell again.
And once again, he was still. Silent. Unshakable.