noctistt

They call him Ghost.
A name whispered in fear across warzones, black markets, and underworld circles.
To the world, he's a phantom—a faceless mercenary who leaves no trace but bodies in his wake.
To his enemies, he’s a death sentence.
To his brothers-in-arms in Graveyard, he’s family.

But to himself... he's a haunted man searching for a past stolen in gunfire and smoke.

After a flawless mission deep in the Eastern Province, Ghost returns to the hidden forest base he's called home for sixteen years. Yet the victory is short-lived. His foster father, the commander delivers an unexpected order:

"That was your last mission."

Now, Ghost—real name Miles Sterling—must step out of the shadows of war and into a world he’s never known. Guided only by a scarred letter, a fading memory, and the voice of a woman he hasn’t seen since the day everything was taken from him.

But war forged more than his body and name.

Behind the mask, behind the scars, Miles has another secret.
One he’s kept hidden even from his brothers in arms.
He’s not just a weapon.
He’s a ghost with a fortune—a hidden empire he built in silence, across borders and black markets, forged in strategy and blood.
A man of many names, and many shadows.

Beneath the bullets, tattoos, and silence lies a truth buried in ashes.
And Ghost is about to dig it up—one letter, one enemy, one memory at a time.

The Retired Young Mercenary Is Secretly a Billionaire

The afternoon sun cast a golden hue over the bustling roads of Star Harbor as Miles drove through the city, heading home. The soft hum of the engine and a faint song on the radio blended with the ambient city noise.

As he approached a major intersection, the traffic light turned red. Miles eased his foot off the accelerator and let the car roll to a smooth stop. People walked along the sidewalks, horns honked in the distance—just another normal day in the city.

Then came a sharp knock on the window.

Miles instinctively turned his head. A man stood beside the car—tall, dressed in a dark hoodie with the hood pulled low, and a simple black mask concealing his face. His movements were calculated. Calm.

Without saying a word, the man reached into his coat, pulled out a large brown envelope, and slid it in through the half-open window. Then, with mechanical precision, he raised his hand and gave a short, crisp salute.

The Envelope!!