The grand hall shimmered under dazzling lights, its vast space overflowing with celebrities, reporters, and fans who had gathered in restless anticipation. Cameras flashed like lightning, capturing every smile, every whispered rumor, every heartbeat of the crowd. The air was thick with excitement, a chaotic symphony of voices and footsteps echoing through the venue.
At last, the moment arrived. The chatter fell into silence, and all eyes turned toward the stage. The announcement was about to be made—the crowning of the Best Idol of the Year.
The hall fell into a hushed silence as the spotlight illuminated the stage. The Master of Ceremonies stepped forward, holding the golden envelope with trembling hands. Every heartbeat in the room seemed to echo against the walls, anticipation hanging thick in the air.
"Ladies and gentlemen..." the MC's voice rang out, steady yet charged with excitement. "The Best Idol of the Year goes to..."
A pause—long enough to make the crowd lean forward, breaths held.
"...Kim Jennie!"
The hall erupted in thunderous applause, cheers, and flashing lights. Fans screamed her name, reporters scrambled to capture the moment, and Jennie herself rose with grace, her smile radiant as she made her way to the stage.
Jennie walked gracefully toward the stage, her radiant smile lighting up the hall. Every step carried an aura of confidence, as though the spotlight itself bent to her presence. The award was placed in her hands, gleaming like a crown of triumph.
She leaned into the microphone, her voice soft yet commanding. "Thank you, everyone—my fans, my team, and those who believed in me. This moment belongs to all of us." The crowd roared in approval, their applause echoing like thunder.
Then, a reporter's voice cut through the noise: "Jennie, what's the secret to your beauty?"
Jennie paused, her smile innocent, almost playful. "It's a secret," she replied sweetly. The audience laughed, charmed by her modesty.
But in that fleeting instant, as the cameras flashed, no one noticed the mischievous smirk tugging at her lips—or the dark glimmer in her eyes. A secret indeed, one that shimmered just beyond the reach of the spotlight.
Meanwhile, in Dubai, a joyful couple stepped out into the warm evening air, carrying their newborn daughter. They strolled along the street, pausing to take pictures, their laughter echoing softly against the city lights.
As they walked, an elderly grandmother approached the man, her frail voice asking for help in carrying a heavy bag to the corner of the street. The man smiled kindly and agreed, but not before telling his wife to stay where she was.
Left alone, the woman watched her husband disappear with the grandmother. Suddenly, chaos erupted nearby—a group of men began fighting, their shouts drawing attention and creating a distraction. Concerned, the woman turned to make a call to the police, reporting the violence.
In that brief moment, as her focus shifted, a shadow moved silently behind her. A man slipped close, his steps quiet and deliberate. With chilling precision, he lifted the baby from the carrier and vanished into the crowd—leaving no trace, no sound, only the empty carrier swaying gently in the night air.
By the time the woman turned back, the carrier was empty. Her heart froze, disbelief flooding her mind before reality struck. She let out a piercing scream, her voice trembling with panic as she shouted for help.
"Someone took my baby!" she cried, her hands clutching the empty straps as tears welled in her eyes.
The crowd around her began to stir—some startled by her cries, others distracted by the ongoing fight nearby. The chaos blurred together, but her desperate voice cut through it all. She dialed the police frantically, her words broken by sobs, while her eyes scanned the crowd for any trace of the man who had vanished with her child.
The glittering city lights of Dubai suddenly felt cold and merciless, as the joyous walk had turned into a nightmare in the blink of an eye.
Her husband ran back, breathless, only to find his wife crying uncontrollably. "What happened? Why are you crying?" he asked, his voice trembling.
"Our baby... she's missing!" she sobbed, clutching the empty carrier. His heart sank, the words striking him like a blade. "Missing? What do you mean missing? Did anything happen?"
Through tears, she explained—the fight that broke out nearby, her attempt to call the police, and the moment she turned back to find the carrier empty. Soon, officers arrived, taking notes and urging the father to file a formal complaint. They tried to console the mother, telling her to be brave, though her grief was unbearable.
Meanwhile, far from the scene, the kidnapper carried the baby through the shadows, a twisted grin on his face. "You're so cute," he whispered, his tone unsettling. He moved quickly toward the port, where a ship waited under dim lights. The baby's cries echoed, but he pressed forward.
Inside the ship, a hidden chamber revealed rows of cribs—each holding a child marked with a number. The baby was placed among them, labeled 35, as the kidnappers exchanged sinister glances. Whatever their plan was, it was only just beginning.
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THE BABIES WHOSE DESTINY IS UNAWARE
THE EVILS WHO SACRIFING INNOCENT TO EVILS
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