In a dark and damp warehouse, where the streetlights barely penetrated the dense fog, a middle-aged man found himself kneeling on the dirty floor. His hands trembled as tears streamed down his pale face. "Please! Please. I promise to leave the city. I... I promise never to sell around here again," he pleaded, his voice choked with despair.

Around him, two shadowy figures observed in silence, but what stood out the most was the acrid odor of urine and feces emanating from him, a result of the fear consuming the old man.

Jamie, with a cold and emotionless gaze, pointed a pistol directly at the man's head. "I'd like to, but there is a tiny problem. You broke our rules. I told you. You don't involve kids in the kind of game we play."

"Besides, if I let you go, my reputation will quickly decline. I'm new to the region and need to define what my image will be," he explained with a disturbing calm. To most, Jamie looked like any other undergrad boy, just over twenty years old.

Although he was young, Jamie was calm about eliminating this annoyance. However, he was sure it wouldn't be that easy; his luck was never that simple.

After a few seconds that seemed like an eternity, Jamie pulled the trigger twice. However, there was no explosion, smoke, or shot. The dry click indicated that the gun had jammed.

"Ah! Just as I expected," Jamie complained as a palpable tension filled the environment. The silence that followed was broken only by the distant dripping of rain.

Before he could react, Jamie felt the gun being snatched from his hand. "I told you. You must be cursed. I’ve never seen something like this, Jamie. You can do everything, but you have some unique bad luck. One day…," Idris, his bodyguard, complained with a tone of irony.

Idris stood beside him, a man just a bit older, already past twenty-five. Although not tall or muscular, he exuded an imposing presence. His face was framed by a well-groomed beard and slightly messy dark hair. Thick-rimmed glasses partially concealed a penetrating and intense gaze.

Wearing a long, dark coat that made him almost invisible at night, Idris maintained a relaxed posture that hid the readiness of someone always alert to danger. He was the type of person who preferred not to make decisions, but when action was needed, it was better not to be in his way.

With the gun now firm in his hands, Idris took control of the execution. Feeling that his presence was no longer needed there, Jamie stepped away, leaving the scene behind. A few moments later, two muffled gunshots broke the silence, followed by the pungent smell of gunpowder and blood and, finally, the dull sound of a body hitting the ground.

"Will you handle the cleanup?" Jamie asked without looking back.

"Of course. I already have someone prepared," Idris replied coldly, as if it were just another typical task.

Jamie walked toward the warehouse exit, leaving behind the solemn atmosphere inside. He lit a cigarette with a smooth motion, bringing it to his lips and inhaling deeply. The hot smoke contrasted with the cold night air, one of the coldest he had experienced in Seattle since his arrival.

His father, a startup magnate, had decided to move to the West Coast, bringing the whole family along. What he didn't imagine was that this move would interfere with Jamie's carefully laid plans. The young man had already dominated almost the entire drug and arms market in the South and now needed to reestablish his clientele in a completely new territory.

Despite this, Jamie wasn't worried. For him, everything was just a game, a challenge to be overcome. On the other hand, his family didn't share this feeling—particularly his mother. His father and sister remained oblivious to his activities, but his mother had always suspected that there was something different about him.

With a casual gesture, Jamie tossed the cigarette to the ground and crushed it with his shoe. His gaze caught his reflection in a puddle of water left by the rain. Although still young, he displayed an imposing stature and impeccable posture.

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His face combined austerity and serenity, and anyone who saw him might think he was some kind of modern nobility. His piercing blue eyes observed everything around him with meticulous attention. Since childhood, he had the habit of observing, analyzing, and memorizing every detail.

The young man possessed extremely sharp senses and a superhuman memory, qualities only surpassed by his indifference to rules and laws.

Jamie dressed with simple elegance: a rolled-up sleeve shirt that revealed well-trained arms under a dark vest fitted to his torso. His hands, often hidden in his pockets, concealed a small blade—a precaution in case some competitor tried to surprise him.

As soon as he put the phone back in his pocket, Idris turned his gaze to his boss. "I just talked to Wolf. He's going to take care of the body. The other associates already understand that this is our new territory," he said firmly.

"Make the message clear to them. I don't want to hear about anyone selling drugs to children, much less putting them to work," Jamie explained harshly.

Idris nodded. He knew Jamie's rules could be seen as outdated, but it was precisely because of that that he became loyal to the boss.

"This game will be less exciting. The big cartels don't venture this far north," Jamie commented, disappointed with how easily everything was happening.

"At least you'll have time to focus on college," the bodyguard retorted, trying to ease the situation.

"You know it's just a facade. Besides, I could easily learn everything required to graduate in economics in two weeks," Jamie said with a half-confident smile.

Idris didn't doubt it. He had known Jamie for five years and had never underestimated his friend and employer. If he said he would learn something, he would—and at a speed that no one else could match. Even martial arts the boy had mastered in record time.

The bodyguard knew he was there for two reasons: Jamie hated manual labor and had extremely bad luck when dealing with firearms.

However, Jamie's real weakness was another, something few people could imagine.

When Jamie's phone rang, Idris suspected it was this weakness calling. Not that he cared or was against it, but he needed to be cautious so his enemies wouldn't find out.

"It's Jess calling me. I'll be right back," Jamie announced, grabbing the phone.

Although she was his sister, Jamie had raised her almost like a daughter. Jess was five years younger than Jamie, and the brother had always been her protector. With their father seldom present and their mother always worried about the next big high-society event, Jess had become attached to her older brother.

Jamie walked to the end of the street before answering the call. "Jess?" he said, with a softness in his voice that he rarely demonstrated.

In a fleeting instant, Jamie's vision plunged into absolute darkness before he could hear his sister's voice. There was nothing in front of him or to the sides. It was as if the world around him had been erased, leaving him suspended in an infinite void. He tried to move his head but seemed to be in a room without walls, floors, or ceilings—just impenetrable darkness.

He tried to take a step but didn't feel the ground under his feet. He extended his hands, hoping to touch anything, but there was nothing. There was no texture, no sound besides his own breathing.

Jamie was not one to despair; his sharp mind immediately sought logic. He began to break the problem into smaller parts. First, he called out for Idris. "Idris!" his voice echoed in the void, but there was no response. He tried to reach for the blade he always carried in his pocket, but he couldn't feel it—in fact, he couldn't even feel his own body.

‘Am I dead?’ he pondered, the idea passing coldly through his mind. ‘A precise shot to the head, perhaps?’ But his doubts were quickly interrupted.

"I must be going insane," he murmured upon seeing a creature appear before him that looked like it had come out of a cartoon.

A small winged being that exuded joy. It looked like a fusion between an otter and a bird, with a rounded little body covered by soft fur in shades of brown and white. Dark feathered wings opened widely whenever it launched into the air, floating gracefully.

Its eyes shone with infinite curiosity, and a radiant smile adorned its face in an attempt to convey comfort—although it had little effect on Jamie.

"Hello, everyone!" greeted the creature with a high-pitched but surprisingly comforting voice. "Don't worry, no one died."

Jamie felt slight relief, but something bothered him. ‘Everyone?’ he questioned internally. He was alone there, wasn't he? He turned again, and tiny lights gradually appeared in the darkness.

He found himself in a gigantic white room without doors, windows, or any sign of an end. Around him, hundreds of thousands—perhaps millions—of people stood, hands at their sides, staring straight ahead with expressions as perplexed as his.

"I brought you all here to ask for help," the floating being continued, dancing in the air like a leaf carried by the wind. "I need you to save my world."