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The businessman checked his watch, completely unaware of the danger. A red dot appeared on his chest. His bodyguard noticed immediately, tackling him to the ground. The bullet struck the wall behind them. Their supposed client had set them up.

Dad always told people he was just a security contractor. But I noticed how he'd get calls at weird hours, and sometimes he'd disappear for days. When my friends asked, I'd just shrug and say he worked nights. We all understood the unspoken rules.

The military announces that three more spheres have landed in downtown Seoul. Students watch from their classroom windows as soldiers surround the area. Principal Kim orders everyone to stay inside while Lieutenant Park's team investigates the glowing objects. Nobody knows what might emerge this time.

Beneath the crumbling stones of St. Michael's Abbey, where moonlight pierces ancient stained glass, lies a chamber untouched by time. Here, among dust-laden grimoires and forgotten relics, whispers of celestial secrets echo through corridors where mortal footsteps dare not tread.

I should have known better when I saw the crumpled note on my windshield. "We've been watching. Your dreams can come true. Just text this number." My fingers were already typing before my brain could scream stop. I needed this chance, whatever it was.

Boston, 1892. The Henderson House stood empty for decades, its windows like dead eyes watching the street. Local children whispered about shadows moving behind curtains, footsteps echoing through empty halls. But no one lived there - not since that bloody night in March.

March 15, 2003, a moonless night in northern Iraq. Three CIA operatives move silently through Kurdish territory. Their mission: to establish contact with a high-level informant. But something wasn't right. The safe house ahead held secrets that would reshape the entire Middle East operation.

Dans l'ombre des projecteurs, il orchestre la symphonie du jeu. Ses mouvements dessinent une partition invisible, où chaque geste compte, chaque décision pèse. Il est le gardien du tempo, celui qui transforme le chaos en harmonie, le dernier rempart avant l'orage.