Deep in the quiet of the night, Etienne Desrosiers, the Prime Minister of Canada, was asleep in his home.
The house was silent.
Then suddenly,
A faint sound disturbed the stillness.
Etienne's sleep broke lightly. His eyes slowly opened… and the first thing he saw was a face sitting beside his bed.
The face of Hamzah Al Qadir.
For a moment his mind struggled to understand what he was seeing.
Hamzah sat calmly on the edge of the bed, watching the television as if he were in his own living room.
Etienne instantly jolted upright.
"Who are you?!" he demanded, his voice sharp with alarm. "And what are you doing in my house?"
Hamzah gave no reply.
He didn't even turn his head.
He simply continued watching the television, his expression quiet and almost bored.
Confused and frightened, Etienne turned his head toward the doorway—toward the guards who were supposed to be protecting him.
What he saw made the blood drain from his face.
The guards were lying on the floor.
All of them.
Dead.
The room fell into a suffocating silence.
Only then did Hamzah finally speak.
His voice was calm… almost thoughtful.
"Etienne Desrosiers," he said slowly. "Prime Minister of Canada."
He glanced at the man for the first time.
"Your name is quite beautiful."
A faint, cold smile touched his lips.
"I would have been much happier… if your actions were just as beautiful."
Without saying another word, Hamzah Al Qadir slowly reached into his coat and pulled out a folded piece of paper.
He held it out toward Etienne Desrosiers.
"Read it."
His voice was quiet… almost emotionless.
Etienne's hands trembled slightly as he took the letter. The paper felt heavier than it should have, as if the weight of something unseen was pressing down on it.
He unfolded it.
At the top of the page, written clearly, were the words:
Suicide Letter
His eyes moved down the page.
"I am Etienne Desrosiers, the Prime Minister of Canada.
I have made many mistakes in my life. I have taken the rights of many people, things I will never be able to repay.
No one is responsible for my death.
I have chosen this myself.
Take care, everyone."
When Etienne finished reading, his entire body began to tremble.
The paper shook violently in his hands.
The realization of what Hamzah was asking of him slowly crawled into his mind… like a shadow tightening around his throat.
"There's no reason to be afraid," Hamzah Al Qadir said calmly. "I didn't come here to kill you."
His eyes remained steady.
"I came to save you."
He nodded slightly toward the letter still shaking in Etienne Desrosiers's hand.
"President William Brown entrusted me with the responsibility of sending you safely to Japan."
For several seconds, Etienne simply stared at him.
His breathing was heavy, his mind racing to connect the impossible situation unfolding in front of him.
Then recognition suddenly struck.
"You… you're Hamzah Al Qadir," he said slowly. "The global commander."
Hamzah gave a faint nod.
"Many people want you dead," he said plainly. "To be honest… I would like to kill you myself."
He paused, his tone still unnervingly calm.
"But what can I do? I respect President William. And I don't want to step into disrespect."
Hamzah's gaze moved briefly around the room before returning to Etienne.
"When I arrived here," he continued, "the men who had sworn to protect you—your guards, were already dead."
His eyes flicked toward the bedside table.
"And that note was lying right beside your pillow."
A thin, almost ironic smile appeared on his face.
"The surprising part is… after all of that… you were still sleeping so peacefully."
"What surprised me even more," Hamzah Al Qadir continued, his voice calm and cutting,
"was discovering that the man who came to kill you wasn't an enemy… but your own nephew—Leo Desrosiers."
He looked directly into the eyes of Etienne Desrosiers.
"The moment I stepped into this room, that note was already lying beside your pillow. And your nephew was standing here… preparing to inject something into you."
Hamzah's tone remained cold and factual.
"After killing you, he planned to hang your body from the ceiling… so that the world would believe you wrote that suicide letter and ended your own life."
He paused for a brief second.
"But unfortunately for him… I arrived."
Etienne's throat tightened.
"Where is he now?" he asked quietly.
Hamzah replied without emotion.
"He's already gone upstairs."
Then he gestured toward the door.
"Come. We need to move quickly."
Within minutes, Etienne hurriedly changed and followed Hamzah. Together they entered the elevator and descended from the fourteenth floor.
When the elevator doors opened and they stepped outside the building,
Etienne froze.
Lying on the ground in front of the building was the broken body of Leo Desrosiers.
The fall had clearly come from high above.
From the balcony of the fourteenth floor.
His body was twisted unnaturally, bones shattered from the brutal impact.
Etienne needed only a single glance to understand what had happened.
Hamzah had thrown him off the balcony.
For a moment, the Prime Minister stood there silently, staring at the lifeless body of his own nephew.
But he said nothing.
There were no questions left to ask.
Without another word, he turned away and climbed into Hamzah's car.
The car moved through the empty roads of the night.
Inside, Hamzah Al Qadir sat silently beside Etienne Desrosiers, his eyes constantly watching the surroundings. But the journey passed without any danger.
Eventually, they reached a vast open field, one that had been specially arranged by William Brown.
Waiting there already was Rayyan Al-Harith, standing beside a private jet, the aircraft's engines quietly humming in the cold air.
Without wasting a moment, the three of them boarded the jet.
Within minutes, the aircraft lifted into the dark sky and began its journey toward Japan.
Inside the cabin, Hamzah's phone suddenly rang.
The call was from Bilal Al Harb, the President of Iraq.
Hamzah answered respectfully.
"Hamzah," Bilal's voice came through the line. "Your global mission to plant trees across the world will officially begin on the 24th. Today is the 20th."
He paused briefly.
"Return to Iraq quickly and prepare for the responsibility you've been given."
Hamzah replied calmly,
"Yes, sir. I remember."
The call ended shortly after.
The jet continued its flight across the ocean.
A while later, it descended toward a small airport hidden in a quiet corner of Japan.
When the aircraft landed and the door opened, someone was already waiting there.
It was Tatiana Desrosiers, the younger sister of Etienne Desrosiers.
The moment Etienne stepped down from the jet and placed his first step onto Japanese soil,
Tatiana ran toward him.
Without hesitation, she threw her arms around her brother and held him tightly.