MY RAY OF HOPE IN THIS WORLD OF CRIME

Sometimes, the most important decisions we make in life are also the hardest to live with.

They can bring us immense happiness, yet they can just as easily become the source of our deepest pain, regrets, and remorse.

This is the story of one of the most powerful men in the business world-a man whose mere name was enough to make ordinary people tremble.

But reaching the position he held had come at a price.

He had sacrificed things that mattered. He had made mistakes, endured betrayals, and survived hardships that would have broken lesser men.

Yet it was precisely those experiences that had forged his character and shaped him into the man he had become.

And it had all started with a single encounter-one that would change his life forever.

It was a rainy day.

A day when the rain fell so heavily that it seemed determined to swallow the entire city.

Beneath the relentless downpour, a homeless man was curled up between two large garbage bins. He had placed a piece of cardboard over his head, doing his best to shield himself from the torrents of water.

A few meters away, a young woman approached with a garbage bag in her hand.

The rain was coming down so hard that she didn't dare get any closer. Instead, she swung the bag toward the bin, hoping it would land inside.

It didn't.

The bag landed directly on the piece of cardboard.

The cardboard gave way, and the contents of the bag spilled all over the homeless man.

The young woman immediately covered her mouth in horror.

"Oh my God!"

She hurried toward him.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to!"

The man, drenched from head to toe and covered in garbage, looked at her for a few seconds before calmly replying,

"It's nothing. Don't worry about it. You can go."

He turned his gaze away as though the whole incident were insignificant.

But the young woman refused to leave.

"Wait... Come to my place. You can clean yourself up."

The homeless man stared at her in surprise.

"Your place?"

"Yes. Come take a shower."

A faint smile touched the corners of his lips.

"The rain will wash me well enough. Don't worry about me."

He turned around and started to walk away.

Then he stopped when he heard her voice behind him.

"Rainwater isn't going to be enough to get rid of that smell. At least come inside and take a proper shower with soap. And if you still decide to go back out into the rain afterward, I won't stop you."

She paused briefly.

"It's the only way I can make up for what just happened."

At that exact moment, his stomach let out a loud growl.

He lowered his eyes toward his stomach before slowly turning back to her.

"Could I also find something to eat at your place?"

The young woman smiled.

"Of course. I'll give you something to eat. Come with me."

A few minutes later, they arrived at her house.

The moment he stepped inside, the man fell silent.

The place was clean, spacious, and remarkably well lit.

He looked nothing like the man he truly was. With his filthy, torn clothes, disheveled hair, and thick beard covering much of his face, he could easily have been mistaken for a wandering madman.

It was nearly impossible to guess his age.

Still, the young woman noticed a few details.

His eyes were blue.

He stood around six feet tall.

And despite his neglected appearance, there was something about his gaze that was difficult to ignore.

"You have a beautiful home, ma'am," he said.

She smiled at him.

"Thank you."

She then pointed toward the hallway.

"The bathroom is over there."

While he showered, she hurried to prepare something for him to eat.

She made him a sandwich and waited in the dining room.

When he finally emerged, she noticed that he had taken off his old clothes and was now wearing clean ones.

The man studied them for a few seconds.

A thought immediately crossed his mind.

So... there's a man living here.

He joined her in the dining room.

"Thank you for the clothes."

He glanced toward the clothes he had left behind.

"Where did you put mine?"

The young woman burst out laughing.

"You were actually planning to put those back on?"

He gave her an embarrassed smile.

"They're the only clothes I have."

Her smile faded slightly.

"Then keep these. I'll give you another set before you leave. Besides... their owner is dead."

Her expression darkened as she said those last words.

The man noticed the change immediately.

"I'm sorry... Was it your husband?"

She shook her head.

"No. My brother."

Silence settled between them.

After a moment, the young woman finally broke it.

"But you said you were hungry, didn't you?"

She gestured toward the sandwich in front of him.

"I made it for you."

"Thank you."

He picked up the sandwich and began to eat.

It was only then that he truly started paying attention to the woman sitting across from him.

Until that moment, hunger and exhaustion had kept him from noticing the details.

She had long, curly hair, green eyes, and a light brown complexion with a distinctly mixed heritage.

She wasn't particularly thin, nor was she heavy.

She looked to be under thirty.

As he finished his sandwich, the young woman returned with a beer.

She placed it in front of him with a smile.

He glanced at the bottle.

"If you have lemonade, I'd prefer that. Otherwise, water is fine."

The woman looked surprised.

"All right."

She was about to walk away when a voice from the television caught his attention.

He instinctively moved closer to the screen so he could hear more clearly.

The news anchor was reporting an urgent story.

"Elior Noah, one of the city's most notorious gangsters, remains hospitalized and has been in a coma for more than a month following an accident. According to those close to him, there is a strong possibility that he may never regain consciousness."

The man stared at the screen for several seconds.

Then he let out a contemptuous laugh.

"People really will say anything..."

He shook his head.

"I'm standing right here, and they're saying I'm in a coma."

The young woman, who had been walking back toward him, froze.

She had heard every word.

The man, however, hadn't noticed her behind him.

She stared at him in disbelief.

"Wait..."

He slowly turned around.

She swallowed hard.

"You're... Elior Noah?"

He didn't answer.

She continued, her voice quieter now.

"One of the most ruthless gangsters in the city?"

The man's expression changed.

His eyes turned cold.

And when he finally answered, his voice was deep and threatening.

"Yes."

A heavy silence fell over the room.

Then he added,

"But now that you know, I'd advise you to keep it to yourself."

He held her gaze.

"Otherwise, you might not make it through the night."

At that exact moment, someone knocked on the door.

The young woman jumped.

A voice came from the other side.

"Police! Open the door!"

She began to tremble.

Slowly, she turned her head toward Elior.

He was still standing there.

Motionless.

Staring at her.

And in that cold, unreadable gaze, she suddenly realized something terrifying:

She might have just let the most dangerous man in the entire city into her home.

The young woman still couldn't believe she had let such a dangerous man into her home.

A man whose mere name was enough to make people tremble.

From everything she had heard about him, Elior Noah was capable of killing someone at any moment, without the slightest trace of remorse.

Her face was still pale, and the fear in her eyes was impossible to hide.

Then someone knocked on the door again.

This time, harder.

The police officer's voice rang out for the second time.

"Police! Please open the door!"

The young woman looked at Elior.

He discreetly gestured for her to open it.

She drew a deep breath before making her way toward the door.

The officer was about to knock for a third time when the door opened.

"Good evening, Officer. How can I help you? Is there a problem?"

The officer studied her carefully.

Something about the way she spoke immediately caught his attention.

She seemed nervous.

Very nervous.

"Everything all right, ma'am?"

She answered too quickly.

"Yes, yes. Everything's fine."

Then, forcing herself to sound more composed, she added,

"Why are you here? Is there something I should know?"

The officer quickly glanced inside the house.

"A resident in the neighborhood reported seeing a strange man who looks like a homeless person wandering around the area recently. According to the report, they saw you let him into your home."

He paused.

"Since no one has seen him leave, we thought we'd make sure you're all right."

Without even realizing it, the young woman cast a brief glance toward Elior.

The officer caught it.

But she immediately spoke again.

"The neighbors gave you the wrong information. No one like that came into my house."

She paused briefly before adding,

"And even if someone did, I'm in my own home. I can invite whoever I want."

She began closing the door.

"So, if you don't have any other questions, I wish you a good night, Officer."

But the officer quickly placed his hand between the door and the frame.

"Are you sure, ma'am?"

She swallowed.

"Yes."

"If you're sure you have nothing to hide, may I come in and take a look?"

She stared at him.

"And if I refuse?"

The officer pointed toward the car parked outside.

"You have every right to refuse. In that case, I'll simply ask my partner to go get a warrant."

He gave a slight shrug.

"You can let me in now, or you can wait until we come back with a warrant. The choice is yours."

The young woman remained silent for a few seconds.

Then she slowly opened the door wider.

"Come in."

The officer stepped inside.

"Very nice house, ma'am. It's really well maintained."

"Thank you."

She stayed close to him, watching as he inspected every room.

Her heart was beating faster and faster.

She had no idea where Elior was hiding.

The officer carefully examined every detail.

Then his gaze landed on the half-eaten sandwich on the table.

"You had a guest?"

The young woman frowned.

"Why would you say that? Am I not allowed to eat a sandwich in my own home?"

"Of course you are."

He pointed toward the sandwich.

"But the bite marks tell me someone else ate it."

She remained silent for a fraction of a second.

Then answered naturally,

"You don't know what can happen when someone is starving."

The officer stared at her.

He didn't seem entirely convinced.

But he didn't press the matter.

After a few moments, he headed for the door.

The young woman followed him.

The officer stepped outside, then turned back toward her.

"One last piece of advice, ma'am."

"Yes?"

"Try not to let just anyone into your home, even when you think you're doing them a favor. Some people may have perfectly innocent faces while harboring very bad intentions."

He gave her a slight nod.

"Have a good night."

"All right. I'll take your advice. You have a good night too."

She closed the door.

Then she turned around.

And jumped.

Elior was standing directly behind her.

She immediately pressed a hand against her chest.

"Don't ever do that to me again!"

She struggled to catch her breath.

"If you scare me like that one more time, I swear I'll be the one calling the police to have you arrested."

A faint smile tugged at the corner of Elior's mouth.

"Then why didn't you simply tell him I was here?"

She stared at him.

"Do you take me for an idiot?"

She drew a breath before continuing.

"First, if I'd told him you were here, the moment he saw that you were clean and properly dressed while they'd reported a filthy homeless man entering my house, he would've immediately realized something was wrong. And if they'd pushed the investigation any further, they would've eventually discovered your identity."

She paused before continuing.

"Second, even if they arrested you, you'd probably find your way out of prison eventually, legally or otherwise. And even if you only spent one night at the station, one of the first things you'd do after getting released would be to come looking for me."

She stared straight into his eyes.

"I'm not ready to die just yet."

Then she added,

"And third, if I believe everything people say about you, that little police officer probably wouldn't have been enough to arrest you anyway."

She sighed.

"So spare me your ridiculous questions."

She shook her head.

"Besides... where were you hiding? How did that police officer search the entire house without seeing you?"

Elior didn't answer.

His gaze had drifted into the distance.

He was thinking.

She's naive... but she's far from stupid.

He studied the young woman.

She could be useful to me.

She noticed his silence.

"And how is it that the news says you've been in a coma for more than a month when you're standing right here, perfectly alive?"

She narrowed her eyes.

"What happened?"

Elior remained silent for a few seconds.

Then he answered calmly,

"That's exactly what you're going to help me find out."

The young woman stared at him in disbelief.

"What?"

Elior held her gaze.

"You."

"Me?"

"My movements are limited for the time being."

He slowly walked toward the table.

His eyes fell on a photograph.

He picked it up.

The picture showed the young woman standing beside her brother.

Elior studied the young man's face carefully.

Then he looked at her.

His voice became more serious.

"While I was hiding here, I happened to notice this photograph."

He held it out to her.

"Your brother is dead, isn't he?"

She slowly nodded.

"Yes."

Elior continued.

"And despite every investigation, the police never managed to determine exactly what caused his death."

The young woman looked at him suspiciously.

"How do you know that?"

Elior handed the photograph back to her.

"In return, I'll uncover the truth behind his death... the truth that no police investigation ever managed to uncover."

The young woman fell silent, unable to decide whether she could trust him.

"And why would you do that for me?"

A faint smile appeared on Elior's lips.

"Because I need you."

He paused.

"And you need the truth."

Elior's words left the young woman deeply unsettled.

She stood there, lost in thought, while Elior kept calling her name.

After a while, she finally snapped back to reality.

"Hey. Are you listening to me?"

"Yes, yes... I was just thinking."

Elior looked at her with a faint smile.

"Thinking about what? The best way to call the police and have them come arrest me?"

He said it teasingly, deliberately trying to get under her skin.

But the young woman wasn't about to let the opportunity pass.

"No. The police would be too easy. I was just thinking about how I could put you back into a coma for good, old gangster."

The moment he heard that, Elior's playful expression disappeared.

"You really seem to hate me."

She answered without hesitation.

"How could I possibly like someone like you? People like you prevent society from functioning properly. You sit on every street corner selling drugs and destroying the lives of young girls and boys. If you were in my position, would you like someone like yourself?"

Elior noticed something.

This wasn't simply anger.

She seemed to be looking for someone-anyone-to whom she could finally pour out everything she had been keeping inside.

Naturally as laid-back as ever, Elior replied,

"No, thanks. I have no desire to be in your position. You can keep it."

Then, with a faint smile, he added,

"Now I understand why you don't have a husband."

The young woman stared at him, stunned and slightly embarrassed.

But she wasn't about to lose the argument.

"A beautiful, well-proportioned woman like me, and-"

Elior cut her off before she could finish.

"Beautiful? Who told you that? Do you even look at yourself in the mirror once in a while? You look more like an old lady."

That was when the young woman actually took a look at what she was wearing.

Elior might not have been entirely wrong.

Her clothes did resemble something an older woman might wear.

It was simply the style she preferred when she was at home.

She suddenly felt self-conscious.

"No, that's not-"

Elior interrupted her again.

"Whatever. I don't need the details, old lady. Keep your explanations to yourself."

That was the final straw.

She clenched her fists.

Her anger finally exploded.

In a raised voice, she snapped,

"Don't call me an old lady! If you say it one more time, I'll kick you out myself!"

Usually, no woman dared raise her voice at Elior.

He had crossed paths with women far more dangerous than this one, and yet none of them had ever dared speak to him that way.

So he was genuinely surprised by how agitated she had become.

He stared at her for a few seconds.

"Me? With a kick?"

She immediately shot back,

"Do you see anyone else here?"

Elior slowly stepped toward her.

His movements were calm and deliberate, almost effortlessly charismatic.

With every step, the atmosphere seemed to grow heavier.

Fear began to creep through the young woman.

Suddenly, she felt incredibly small in front of him-like a tiny rabbit standing before a fierce lion.

Elior stopped in front of her.

His voice dropped to a low, threatening tone.

"I've never allowed anyone to get into the habit of raising their voice at me. No one."

He paused.

"Even if that person were the president of this country."

His gaze turned colder.

"Raise your voice at me one more time, and you'll understand why so many people call me a ruthless gangster."

A heavy silence settled between them.

Several seconds passed.

Then the young woman's voice broke the silence.

"This is my house. Am I not allowed to raise my voice in my own home anymore? Did you pay for it?"

The instant she finished speaking, Elior suddenly raised his hand.

It looked as though he was about to slap her.

By instinct, the young woman immediately squeezed her eyes shut.

She grimaced, bracing herself for the impact.

Inside her head, one thought repeated itself over and over.

Why did I open my mouth and say that? I'm such an idiot.

A few seconds passed.

Nothing touched her face.

Yet in her imagination, the slap had already landed.

I'm going to die...

The size of this man's hand...

Big brother, I'm coming to join you soon.

Waaah... waaah...

She slowly opened one eye.

Nothing.

Elior hadn't hit her.

Instead, he gently placed his hand on top of her head and ran his fingers through her hair.

"I like that."

The young woman opened both eyes.

A faint smile appeared on Elior's lips.

"You've got guts. But I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, considering you're that man's little sister. You're quite a character."

The young woman pouted.

"Don't mess up my hair."

Elior's voice immediately turned deep and threatening.

"What?"

She instantly realized her mistake.

She began to sweat.

"Yes, yes, yes... Mess it up however you want, Mr. Ruthless Gangster."

Elior turned away.

He began talking to himself, lost in thought.

This woman really has guts... or maybe she's completely insane.

He shook his head slightly.

Why couldn't I bring myself to slap her?

He remained silent for a moment.

Is she simply too innocent... or is it because she's that man's little sister?

As he pondered those questions, a voice came from behind him.

"You just said I have as much guts as my brother. So you must have known him well enough to say that."

Elior glanced back.

She continued,

"What was your relationship? Colleagues? Friends?"

She hesitated.

"No... My brother couldn't possibly have been either a colleague or a friend of some old gangster..."

She abruptly stopped and covered her mouth.

Elior had heard every word.

A faint smile appeared on his face.

"An old gangster like me?"

He shook his head.

"Well, she's not wrong. I am an old gangster."

His expression grew more serious.

"But if you believe your brother was a perfect man, then you didn't know him nearly as well as you thought you did."

The young woman was stunned.

She had never heard anyone speak about her brother that way.

To her, he had always been the closest thing to perfection a person could be.

She couldn't help asking,

"Why would you say that? What did you know about him?"

Elior didn't answer immediately.

He calmly walked over to the sofa and sat down.

The nerve of this man...

Just a few minutes ago, he was playing the role of an innocent homeless man who didn't even want to come inside.

And now he's sitting comfortably like this is his own house.

Elior clasped his hands in front of his mouth.

His entire demeanor changed.

He looked at the young woman with deadly seriousness.

Then, slowly, he began to speak.

"Your brother... was..."