Emrah woke up in his bed. The morning sun streamed through the windows, but he didn't feel rested—he had already lived this day once. He rose quietly, dressed in the same clothes as before, and teleported downstairs without alerting anyone. Breakfast was happening as usual, but Emrah wasn't here for the mundane routines; he had a plan, and he wouldn't deviate.
"Father, I want to buy from brands and shops in Dubai," he said casually, as if nothing were out of the ordinary, stepping past the breakfast table.
Cengiz, who had been observing him closely, followed and placed a hand on Emrah's shoulder. "Son, I know that look in your eyes. Something is wrong, am I right?"
Emrah nodded. "Yes. We have a traitor among us."
Cengiz's eyes narrowed, the color draining slightly from his face. "How do you know that?"
"I have my sources," Emrah replied evenly, his tone betraying nothing.
"Do not discuss this with anyone," Cengiz warned, his voice low but firm. "Not even the inner circle. We will get to the bottom of this ourselves."
Emrah gave a small, approving nod before slipping away. He got into his car and merged into the city streets, the pulse of Dubai-bound plans racing through his mind. What he didn't notice was the faint shimmer in the rearview mirror—someone was following him.
Efsane Saygın, entrusted by her grandfather to watch over Emrah, had been quietly trailing him. "Take care of your future husband," Cengiz had said, and she wasn't about to disobey. Her eyes narrowed, scanning the streets, keeping a careful distance.
Emrah parked near the VIP entrance of the private jet section of the airport. Without hesitation, he teleported from the car cabin directly into the interior of the terminal, bypassing security, walls, and cameras.
Efsane pulled up a little behind him, stepping out of her car to check why Emrah had stopped. She froze, scanning the vehicle. It was empty. "He… he's gone?" she whispered, a twinge of panic rising.
Inside the VIP section, Emrah moved with quiet efficiency, preparing for the Dubai flight and the shopping expedition that would mask his investigation. His mind was already calculating contingencies, anticipating attacks, and tracing the invisible thread of the traitor.
Emrah's eyes narrowed as he activated the sub-feature of his Danger Sense passive. The world around him shimmered faintly, outlining heat signatures and objects hidden from normal sight. Instantly, he focused on the figure moving through the VIP terminal—a man in a standard engineer uniform, carrying a seemingly innocuous suitcase.
But Emrah's enhanced vision revealed the truth: wires, circuits, and the unmistakable shape of an explosive device.
"What's an engineer doing with a bomb in his suitcase?" Emrah muttered under his breath.
Without hesitation, he froze time. The world around him halted—the luggage suspended midair, footsteps paused inches from the floor, and even the faint whir of the air conditioning hung in silence.
He studied the man carefully, noting his movements, calculating the weight of the suitcase, the complexity of the device, and the potential blast radius. Every detail mattered.
Emrah thought quickly, his mind racing through options. Disarm it? Teleport it away? Or take a more… subtle approach that wouldn't alert anyone?
His hand hovered over the Infinity Blade, his mind already formulating the perfect sequence. One wrong move, and everyone on the plane—and at the terminal—would be at risk.
Time was frozen, but the decision had to be flawless. Emrah's lips curved into a confident smirk. "Let's see how this plays out," he whispered.
And then, almost imperceptibly, he began moving—silent, precise, and unstoppable.
Emrah moved.
In frozen time, the distance between him and the engineer vanished in a single step. He seized the suitcase from the man's relaxed grip, already analyzing its weight, balance, and internal structure. His enhanced perception mapped every wire, every trigger, every failsafe in a fraction of a second.
"Crude," Emrah murmured. "But effective."
He checked the brand, the exact model, even the faint scratch near the handle—details no one else would ever notice.
Then he vanished.
In the next instant, Emrah stood inside a luxury luggage boutique across the city. Time was still frozen. Sales staff were locked mid-motion, expressions half-formed. He scanned the shelves once—only once—before spotting it.
An exact replica.
Same model. Same size. Same color. Even the same production batch.
He grabbed it, paid no mind to the suspended world around him, and teleported back to the airport.
With surgical precision, Emrah replaced the suitcase in the engineer's hand. The switch was flawless—angle, weight, grip, everything identical. Not even a god watching closely would have noticed.
He stepped back.
Time resumed.
The engineer blinked, unaware that death had just passed through his fingers. He adjusted his grip on the harmless suitcase and continued walking toward the aircraft, oblivious.
Emrah watched from the shadows, calm, composed.
"Death averted," the system confirmed quietly.
"Trial Condition Progress: Successful Intervention."
But Emrah wasn't relieved.
He was pleased.
Because now, he wasn't just alive.
He was armed—with the very weapon meant to erase him.
A slow, dangerous smile crossed his face as he turned away.
"You shouldn't have rushed," Emrah thought. "You should've waited until I didn't know."
Somewhere in the city, someone believed their plan was still in motion.
They were wrong.
Very soon, the bomb that was meant to end Emrah Aybeyli would become the message that ended them.
And this time—
There would be no second chance.
Emrah reappeared inside the driver's seat in a whisper of displaced air.
Outside, Efsane stood beside the car, arms crossed, gaze turned toward the airport terminal. She hadn't seen him return. For a heartbeat, Emrah simply watched her—alert, protective, beautiful in her tension.
He rolled the window down.
"Wifey," he said casually, voice warm. "Why are you standing there? Get in the car. I need your help."
Efsane spun around so fast her breath caught.
"Emrah—!" Relief washed over her face, sharp and unguarded. She leaned closer, scanning him like she was making sure he was real. "How did you get in the car? When did you even leave? I swear I didn't see you step out. I was watching the whole time."
She opened the door and slipped inside, still shaking her head in disbelief.
"And did you just call me wifey?" she added, a smile blooming despite herself. "You're unbelievable."
Her hand rose before she seemed to think about it. The tip of her index finger brushed his cheek, slow and familiar, tracing the line of his jaw. Her touch lingered—gentle, possessive, relieved.
"You can't just disappear like that," she murmured. "Do you have any idea what that does to someone?"
Then her eyes sharpened—not with suspicion, but resolve.
"So," she said softly, still close enough that he could feel her breath, "what do you need me to do?"
Emrah met her gaze. For a moment, the weight of timelines, bombs, and betrayals pressed behind his eyes—but he didn't let it show.
"I need you to watch," he said calmly. "And listen. Not just with your eyes—trust your instincts."
Her fingers curled slightly against his cheek, as if sealing a promise.
"Good," she replied. "Because I was already doing that."
Somewhere nearby, a plan was unraveling.
And beside Emrah Aybeyli sat someone who would never look away again.