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Rainstorm: The Assassin Reborn as the Unwanted Daughter

[discontinued] Morana Yin was a once legend. A ruthless assassin, a figure shrouded in myth and legend until she was betrayed by the person she trusted the most, leading to her gruesome death. But fate has other plans, granting her a second chance in the body of Vesna Xiao, the illegitimate daughter of the Xiao familia. Trapped in a life that bears no resemblance to her own, she must confront the ghosts that haunt her past and the demons that lurk in her present. In a world of gilded cages and veiled threats, where every smile hides a dagger, every friend a hidden foe, her new face becomes her mask, the youthful innocence becomes her shield hiding the soul of a hardened killer hungering for vengeance. --------- Ziyan Luo was a rising star, a brilliant businessman, and an heir to the capital's most influential family until one accident that left him blind during the day and haunted by nightmares at night, leading him to retreat from the world. But when fate throws Ziyan into Vesna's path, spark ignites in the shadows. Vesna becomes the first flicker of desire in Ziyan's isolated world. He wants her and makes no secret of it. Avoiding him isn't an option he offers and he's determined to prove to her she's worth every ounce of effort he's going to put into winning her heart

Lttle_Aurora · สมัยใหม่
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63 Chs

You forgot one {edited}

The bickering duo was soon called down for lunch. While Ziyan waited at the table, he could hear their continued squabbling as they made their way down the stairs. His fingers drummed lightly on the polished surface of the table as he waited. 

"This is going to be interesting," he muttered under his breath.

The argument between Vesna and Elion grew louder as they approached the dining room. Finally, they arrived at the dining room. Vesna entered first, her head held high and a triumphant smile on her lips, as if she had just won the latest round of their verbal sparring. Elion followed closely behind, his face flushed with irritation. 

"Glad you could finally join me," Ziyan said dryly as they reached the dining table.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," Vesna replied sweetly, as she took the seat on Ziyan's right. 

Elion, still muttering under his breath about something Vesna had said, plopped down into the chair opposite her. 

Soon, the maids dressed in black uniforms began to serve the food. Elion's eyes lit up at the sight before him and without so much as a glance at the others, he immediately began piling food onto his plate. 

Vesna watched him with a raised eyebrow, her gaze fixed on the growing tower of food on Elion's plate. 

"If I didn't know any better," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "I'd think you were starved for weeks."

Elion paused, his fork hovering mid-air as he shot her a sharp look. "I'm just making sure I get my share before someone else decides to hog it all. After all, I still remember a certain someone who could finish a five-person meal in one sitting."

"Oh, please," Vesna scoffed, leaning back in her chair. "If I recall correctly, that was only because you dared me to. And as I remember, I won that bet."

Ziyan stifled a sigh. He had hoped the meal might provide a temporary ceasefire between the two, but it seemed that even the simplest of interactions between Vesna and Elion had the potential to ignite another round of verbal sparring.

"Since you two still aren't done," Ziyan said, his voice laced with exasperation, "perhaps I should leave you to continue your discussion."

"No!" Vesna and Elion exclaimed simultaneously, each grabbing one of Ziyan's hands.

Vesna's eyes widened slightly, her expression softening. "We'll be quiet, I promise."

Elion nodded vigorously in agreement. "Yes, we'll behave."

Ziyan muttered a quiet "Good" and resumed eating.

Vesna and Elion followed suit, though the tension between them remained. Elion kept shooting glares at Vesna across the table, while she responded by childishly sticking out her tongue, which only seemed to irritate Elion further.

A few moments later, the head of the maids, Nora - whom Vesna remembered from her earlier introduction - approached the table. She leaned in close to Ziyan and whispered something, her voice low. However, thanks to Vesna's sharp hearing, she easily caught the words: "Your guests are here."

Ziyan nodded, then turned to Nora. "Call them here."

A minute later, a couple of young men entered the room, led by an old man. They were all tall and muscular, wearing black suits and an earpiece. She immediately spotted the telltale outline of guns at their waists. One glance at them and Vesna knew they were trained bodyguards.

However, it wasn't the young men who captured Vesna's attention. Her gaze fixed on the older man leading the group, and her body tensed involuntarily. The chopsticks nearly slipped from her fingers as her lips parted slightly, the word "Vic" almost escaping before she caught herself.

A whirlwind of emotions surged through her as she stared at the man she once called her godfather the man who had raised and protected her after her parents' death, the man who made her the woman she used to be. 

But that woman was gone and Victor did not know this woman. So she schooled her expressions and looks at Ziyan questionigly. 

"Boss, these men are the best of the best bodyguards we have." Victor began. "Top-notch in IQ, martial arts, and firearms proficiency."

Ziyan nodded, then turned to Vesna. "I'd like you to choose one as your personal bodyguard."

"Why would I need a bodyguard?" Vesna asked, her brow furrowing.

Simultaneously, Elion blurted out, "Why does she need a bodyguard?"

The two locked eyes, glaring at each other once again.

Vesna, quick to recover, smirked at Elion. "Why wouldn't I need a bodyguard? I'm attractive, beautiful, and now married to your rich and handsome brother. People will obviously have ill intentions towards me."

Elion scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Oh please, look in the mirror before saying those words."

Ziyan cleared his throat immediately shutting the two. 

"You said so yourself. Now that you are married to me, people will try to harm you to get to me. So I want you to have a bodyguard by your side for your own safety." 

Elion's brow furrowed as he turned to Ziyan. "I've been your brother since birth. How come I never got a bodyguard?"

Before Ziyan could respond, Vesna interjected with a smirk, "Because you're not important."

She stood up, smoothing out her dress. Since Ziyan wanted her to have a bodyguard, she might as well play along, even though she knew she didn't need anyone's protection.

Vesna approached the line of bodyguards, who all stood ramrod straight, gazes fixed ahead. Victor and Elion stared at her, while even Ziyan turned his face in her direction, watching her through his glasses.

In a flash, a knife appeared in Vesna's hand. She aimed it directly at one of the bodyguard's eyes, stopping barely an inch away. The man remained perfectly still, not even blinking.

"You're supposed to defend yourself," Vesna mused, a hint of disappointment in her voice.

He replied calmly, "I know you won't hurt me, ma'am."

Vesna chuckled darkly. "Is that so?" In the blink of an eye, the knife sliced through the man's arm, drawing blood. He hissed, stumbling back a few steps.

Without missing a beat, Vesna whirled towards another bodyguard, the knife now aimed at his throat. This one reacted, managing to grab her wrist before the blade made contact. Vesna quirked an eyebrow, seemingly impressed for a moment.

But it was short-lived. She swiftly kicked his knee, throwing him off balance. In a fluid motion, she twirled around behind him, pressing the knife against his neck. "And you're dead too," she whispered before releasing him.

One by one, she attacked each bodyguard, and none were able to defend themselves against her swift movements. By the end, Vesna adjusted her dress, not a hair out of place.

"Since they can't even defend against the 'woman' they're supposed to protect, I don't need them."

Just as she was about to sit down, Victor's voice cut through. "You forgot one," he said, a hint of challenge in his tone. "I'm still left."