The Miracle: A Collection by THE PINKLIVINGROOM 

THE MIRACLE Project : TIME: When Time is Not Time  ,  Hello Miracle: Rena's Handwritten Magic

“Please... spare me... I beg of you...”

The final plea, hoarse and trembling, escaped the lips of a man drenched in crimson. He lay dying on the cold cement floor, the iron scent of blood thick in the stagnant air of an abandoned shophouse in Soi Dokkaew—a place where darkness was about to entomb his final breath.

The slow, rhythmic tap of luxury leather shoes echoed against the concrete. A tall, elegant figure emerged from the shadows, stepping into a sliver of pale moonlight that bled through the cracks of a decaying wooden window. The light caught the edge of a sharpened blade, making it glint with lethal silver.

"I still... haven't learned... the truth..." Tears of desperation tracked through the blood on his cheeks. The ill-fated man clawed at the air, reaching for the answers he had spent a lifetime chasing. But it was too late.

The silhouette stood over its prey, looming like a specter. He knelt slowly, watching the struggling man with eyes that were hollow, devoid of any spark of mercy. It was as if he were merely observing a worthless object. With a steady hand, he drove the blade deep into the center of the man's chest.

Thud!

Warm blood sprayed across the assassin’s impassive face. The body on the floor convulsed violently, eyes wide and staring into the void, as if trying to etch the final image of the sky into his soul. His trembling fingers clenched into a rigid fist before the light in his eyes began to dim. A final, whistling breath escaped his shattered throat.

The blade was withdrawn, slow and merciless. One last shudder, and then—silence. Only a pool of blood remained, spreading steadily into the darkness, burying the truth forever.

November 15, Year '70

The glow of a tablet screen reflected in Suparuj’s deep, inscrutable eyes. His long fingers swiped through crime headlines that had become nothing more than background noise in the daily feed.

Body of 27-year-old found brutally murdered in Soi Dokkaew shophouse. Authorities suspect a silencing...

He swiped past it without a second thought, stopping at a lead business headline that directly impacted his life.

Industry Shockwave: CEO of Powersoft BK Announces Transfer of Entire Company and Shares to Eldest Son Amidst Internal Family Turmoil.

Inside a top-floor executive suite overlooking a panoramic cityscape, Badin—his father, dressed in a dignified brown suit—pushed the final transfer documents across the desk.

"This company was built with the sweat and blood of our lineage," Badin asserted, his voice booming with authority. "Remember that. Do not let me down."

Suparuj accepted the documents. His refined face remained calm, yet deep within those still eyes lay a truth hidden beneath a mask of stoicism.

While the penthouse air remained chillingly composed, the world below erupted in fury. A middle-aged man stood before the building, hoisting a protest sign and screaming for the return of corporate ethics. His voice, however, was drowned out by the storm of online commentary.

@NoRealJustice: “They own everything from the internet to the land! Where is the room for the little guy to stand?” @SilentPower: “Ethics? These selfish tycoons only use that word as a shield. Does it even exist to them?”

Suparuj set the tablet on his desk. His phone rang incessantly amidst the chaos, but the mainstream media tide was already turning. Scandalous news of celebrities and heated political debates were being pushed to the front, shoving the Powersoft BK controversy off the charts.

This was the influence of those who stood above the social order—a collaboration between titans and the powerful to protect the economic pillars of 'Tyran,' a nation governed by democracy, yet encased in a core of absolute capitalism.

Before long, the "Power of Giving" campaign flooded every media outlet. Images of Suparuj in a sophisticated grey suit, awarding scholarships and donating medical equipment, were shared tens of thousands of times.

"If not for them, how would we survive? People just love to find fault." "Do you know how many people Powersoft has helped? Get real."

Suparuj stood up and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window. He looked down at the sprawling metropolis beneath his feet—the empire he now commanded. His slender fingers adjusted his midnight-black suit collar. His cold, deep gaze reflected everything, yet revealed nothing.