Republic of Looke "The Republic of Looke would have burned long ago without General Khan. I despise him deeply, but he is right!" **—** President Kurot Shaldova I'm just an ordinary man who blacked out for twenty years while writing this script. But I woke up again…because the cursed words inside this manuscript refused to die. "I will win," I said coldly. "Win? What will you win, Zaid? If you die, what will be left?" I clenched my fist, my jaw tightening. "If I stop now, I am no longer General Khan. I am not the man you love, Zoyya. I am the fire that has burned for too long. And I will not go out until everything is reduced to ashes." Zoyya sobbed, her voice trembling. "Then what should I do? Should I wait for you until I die? Should I stand over your grave, wondering whether your revenge has been paid in full?" I closed my eyes for a moment, then looked at her sharply. "If that's what happens, then remember one thing, Zoyya… I will not die as a victim. I will die as a legend… in your heart." Zoyya's tears flowed even harder; she embraced me again, as if this were our last embrace. "Then… never die. Don't… If you die, I will die." My jaw tightened. I wiped her tears with my thumb. Held her longer. "If you die, I will die." She laughed—a laugh filled with sorrow. Then she raised her hand to her forehead. Cole and I stepped toward the Dodge, but suddenly, something pulled me from behind. Not physical—not Zoyya's hand—but something heavier than her body: the feeling of loss beginning to fuse with my bones. The first step felt like punishment. The second step like a sentence. The third, I was already standing before the Dodge's door. I felt the cold grip of metal beneath my fingers. In the window glass, my reflection looked strange—like someone who had long been dead but was still being forced to walk. Then I felt her shadow; she was chasing me, running, wrapping her arms around my waist from behind, her head pressed against my back. I felt the scent of her breath, inhaled it deeply. Medicine. Herbs. Cancer.