Chapter 1 Four years, 1268 days

The moonlight seeped through the thin silk curtains on a cold night, glowing gently into the spacious European-style villa room. The night breeze lifted the faint purple veil, creating a contrasting scene with the cold and serene moonlight outside the window.

Two fiery souls were entangled in the dimly lit room, their bodies closely intertwined, accompanied by the relaxed yet dangerous moonlight. The man's movements were cold and rigid, devoid of emotions or simply a physical exchange.

Despite this, deep within the woman's facade lay a profound melancholy. She tried to display a seductive and arrogant charm, with a face adorned with countless expressions, and her panting breaths filled the air as she attempted to gain control over the man above her.

She understood how to captivate a man, especially in situations like this, where any man involved with her would be enchanted by her allure. However, this particular man was different. Until now, he only wanted to possess her without hesitation, almost ending their relationship. It was only for the sake of physical desires or cravings. He had never wanted her to touch him.

Feeling dissatisfied, she slowly extended her delicate fingers, gently caressing his forehead, nose, short chin, and firm chest. But as soon as she touched him, a striking scar appeared on his chest, a dark red mark resembling a coiling serpent. It emerged abruptly, adding an extra layer of mystery to this already incredibly handsome man.

"Don't touch that!" He suddenly caught her hand, his voice cold and filled with a warning.

The woman's expression quickly changed from flirtatious to submissive as she reached her hand around his neck, letting out a resentful sigh.

Like an ignited flame, the man fiercely reciprocated, relentlessly taking and seizing as they rolled from one bed to another.

The woman's face displayed a mixture of seduction and beauty, and her breaths labored, no longer seeking to allure. The man's continuous advances beneath her caused her trembling body to lose its purpose of seduction.

But just as her alluring and moist red lips were about to touch the man's thin lips, all movement suddenly stopped for a second.

"Master?" A hint of suspicion and temptation appeared on her face, and her graceful figure blushed in a few places unnaturally. She was dissatisfied and buried her face in his shoulder, yearning for more from him.

"What's wrong, Master?" She immediately pursued, wrapping her watery arms around him from behind.

A trace of impatience appeared between Richard Helga's eyebrows. He coldly pushed her away, sternly reminding her, "You forgot one crucial fact! I never kiss any other woman."

"Why? Why is it that you never kiss me every time we're intimate? You won't let me kiss you, either! If I've done something wrong, I can fix it!" The woman's jaw contained resentment. She, Vermouth, was a highly skilled and seductive assassin who had countless men kneeling under her charm. Except for their leader, no man had caught her eye.

She had hoped to possess this perfect man. She had only been waiting for a kiss from him. Could that be too much to ask for?

"Because you're not worthy!" In Richard Helga's eyes, a mocking glint flashed by. Without any emotion, he left behind a chilling remark before turning away.

The night was silent, and ultimately, it was easy to evoke memories of the past.

Richard Helga stood still in the dark, under the dim and illusory light. With a cigar between his fingers, he exhaled a ring of smoke, transforming him into a mysterious man.

The identical lamps formed a procession on the villa's balcony, overlooking the chaotic city lights, but his heart was elsewhere.

"Rosabella, I miss you so much!" There was something inexplicable in his eyes. A beautiful image, covered in dust and deeply hidden, resurfaced in his mind.

Four years, 1268 days had passed, and his longing for her grew stronger each day, intensifying without ever ceasing.

Although in these four years, he had countless women and experienced numerous pleasures, in his eyes, in his innermost being, no other woman existed apart from her.

He loved her so much, but she not only didn't love him back but also hated him deeply.

"How do you compare to her?" Vermouth wrapped herself in a thin blanket, unaware of when she stood behind Richard Helga. Embracing his waist from behind, she asked in a timid tone.

"You can leave. Our relationship ends here!" Richard Helga glanced at the seductive woman, tossing a chilling remark that froze her heart.

Vermouth froze, her face immediately becoming unpleasant to look at. She whimpered, "Why? Master, why do you treat me like this?"

She thought they had differences, but she never expected him to want to dismiss her. Their calculations before were never alike! She believed she could surely captivate this man's heart with her beauty and charm. Yet, in the end, she suffered a devastating failure.

"Don't harbor any illusions about me. Your future will be filled with misery. As a woman, the most I've encountered is just once." Richard Helga frowned, displaying a sense of disdain, his voice growing even more profound.

Vermouth felt lost in her inner turmoil. She fell to her knees, futilely clinging to his large body, desperately pleading, "Richard, please don't abandon me. I'm willing to do anything for you."

"Vermouth, you don't give me this feeling." Richard Helga showed no mercy, kicking her away with one swift move. He lifted his head and walked away without looking back, heading towards the luxurious bathroom.

Before leaving, he didn't forget to throw a warning that shattered Vermouth's heart completely.

"Take advantage of the fact that I haven't changed my mind and disappear immediately. Otherwise, you'll know the consequences."

Vermouth trembled like a frightened child. Desperation filled her gaze in an instant. She covered her face and ran outside, her heart deeply wounded by his actions.

Such incidents had happened countless times with countless women he encountered.

Richard Helga relaxed in the large, luxurious bathtub, tilting his head back to look at the ceiling. Mist rose in the opulent bathroom, revealing the sharp contours of his perfect face, giving him a mysterious allure.

He held a glass of red wine in his right hand, swaying the pinkish liquid inside, while his left hand held a photograph.

"Rosabella, they have no right to blame you. I love you, only you unless I cease to exist!" He murmured nonsensical words in his mouth. His sharp and piercing eyes softened and became infinitely gentle, brimming with deep affection.

But such displays were only shown in front of a girl named Rosabella Helga.

On the steamed-up glass, Richard Helga wrote and rewrote the name Rosabella. His icy finger moved until it became numb, making it clear how deep and agonizing his love was, down to the bone marrow.

The elegant yet cold bathroom, adorned with a few warm colors, created a harmonious ambiance, unlike the distance in love.