Prologue

—The night was like glass, sliced open by neon, reflecting the illusion of an island.

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My name is Loke Tin Kay.

This was not the first time I had faced death, but it was the first time I had seen what paradise looked like—

It had swimming pools, champagne, laughter, and faces wearing smiling masks.

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Paradise Island.

People say it is a heavenly retreat far from the dust and noise of the world—four hotels, ten thousand lights, music and revelry every night.

But beneath those lights, I saw another kind of gleam—cold, precise, like the red dot inside a sniper’s scope.

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That night, I was preparing to leave the city for the Hoolini Resort in the south.

My phone vibrated.

The caller was Eagle Eye—the commander of the Black Cetus.

He skipped the pleasantries and said only two sentences: “Something has happened on Paradise Island. We need you.”

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The incident took place at the The Grand Victorium Hotel.

It was said that a terrorist organization had declared its intent to seize Sir Fan Wai Man’s jewels and paintings, and to take control of the entire island.

At that moment, I heard the sound of waves striking the shore, as if someone were whispering:

—“Paradise never belongs to the mortal world.”

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I hung up the phone and looked up at the night sky.

There were no stars—only light.

The light was beautiful, beautiful like a lie.