"What were you just thinking about? You've been spacing out this whole time." Luna handed me a cup of Coke.
"Oh, maybe the movie's just too boring—it's making me sleepy." I scratched my head and forced a goofy smile.
We were supposed to be training at the park, practicing combat techniques, but it suddenly started pouring. We had no choice but to run for cover under the mall entrance. The rain kept falling with no sign of stopping, so Luna suggested we catch a movie instead.
Maybe it's just my imagination, but I feel like Luna might have a thing for me. She's been waiting for me outside the Time Café every day, right on schedule, and lately she's even started wearing light makeup. After the rain, she looks fresh and radiant—like a lotus rising out of clear water.
"Don't you think that hitman in the movie was cool?" she asked.
"What's so cool about a hitman?"
"I mean that attitude he had—he didn't bow to anyone, and even at the end, he never betrayed his dignity. That's what a real man is."
I laughed. "Haha, so if you met a hitman in real life, would you fall in love with him?"
Luna bit her straw and stared at me like I was an idiot. "Please, I'm a cop. If I met a hitman in real life, I'd arrest him. Obviously."
"What if he was stronger than you?"
"As long as I'm still alive, I'll keep chasing him. That's how we protect innocent people—that's our duty as police officers."
That familiar stubborn look appeared on Luna's face again.
Maybe I was overthinking things. She probably just felt sorry for me, or thought I was some harmless fool and decided to be kind. I gave a bitter smile to myself.
"Well, well, look who it is. Little Miss Cop—no uniform today? And hanging out with this wimp?"
Mike showed up with seven or eight thugs, blocking our way. His eyes were bloodshot—probably drunk or high, maybe both.
"What do you want? You wanna go back to the station again?" Luna stood in front of me.
"Cops think they're so special, huh?" Mike roared. "Tonight I'll teach you a lesson. Boys—grab her! Everyone gets a turn!"
The night gave them courage. They charged at us without restraint. Luna punched Mike in the face, dropping him instantly, then shouted at me, "Run! Don't worry about me!"
I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
Isn't that supposed to be the guy's line in scenes like this?
I lunged forward clumsily to shield her. One of the thugs kicked me in the chest. My left hand shot out like lightning and pressed against his leg—his kneecap popped out of place, and he collapsed screaming, while a ridiculous boot print was left on my shirt.
Another thug swung a fist at me. I took it square in the face; blood burst from my nose. But from Luna's blind spot, I drove my right elbow into his chest. I didn't hit hard, but a rib definitely cracked. He dropped to the ground, gasping and rolling in pain.
This fight was harder than any I'd ever been in before.
Like an adult trying to fight a bunch of toddlers—I had to carefully control every strike so it looked messy enough not to blow my cover.
"Don't come any closer…" I stood in front of Luna, face covered in blood, my voice trembling.
"D-don't you come any closer!" Mike stammered, suddenly terrified. All his goons were writhing on the ground, moaning and crying. He was the only one still standing.
"Then get out of here before I really lose it!" I shouted.
Mike shuddered, then bolted, abandoning his crew.
A cool, smooth hand grabbed mine. Luna's lips curved into a playful smile. "Relax, he's gone."
The smell of antiseptic stung my nose. Luna was carefully cleaning my wounds.
"I thought you said you've never been in a fight," she teased. "How come you were so brave this time?"
"I don't know… I just didn't want them to hurt you."
"Do you like me?"
Her face flushed, and the cotton swab in her hand trembled slightly.
Such a blunt question—how was I supposed to answer that?
"Ow! You poked my eye!" I winced, steering the topic away.
"Idiot." Luna huffed and tapped my head. "Do it yourself then—I'm going home."
Great. I'd messed it up.
She stormed off, heels clicking against the pavement. I hurried to catch up.
"What if I do like you?" I shouted after her.
"Then bring me a bouquet every day. If you can keep it up for a hundred days, I'll go out with you."
Luna turned around, looking cool and defiant as always.
It was like an addiction—Vincent's desire to kill kept growing. At first, it was once every two weeks; then once a week; recently, almost every day. Watching his targets die in despair and horror had become his greatest pleasure.
"Mr. K, you must deal with this one immediately. Letting scum like him live another second is an insult to justice." Vincent slammed his fist on the table, the newspaper rattling in front of me.
A high school math teacher—he had abused someone under his care and repeatedly threatened them to stay silent, driving them to despair.
"Mr. K, this bastard cannot be allowed to die comfortably. Make him reflect on just how despicable he is…"
A caregiver who tortured an elderly person and set them on fire to cover her tracks.
"Mr. K, this one must be dealt with tonight. My conscience and sense of justice won't let me sleep. He cannot see tomorrow."
A man who, in pursuit of an affair, locked his mother—suffering from a serious illness—on a balcony, causing her death.
Damn. This madman had completely lost control, constantly demanding I kill. If I continued, I'd become twisted like him.
"Master Qin, you have so many subordinates. Why not let them handle these? These targets are ordinary people—you could hire a few thugs." I couldn't contain myself and called out his intentions.
"You know who I am?"
Vincent looked slightly surprised. The manic gleam vanished, replaced by a composed, polite demeanor. A terrifying lunatic—one never knew which second he might snap.
"Yes. Aren't you aware of how famous you are?" I said, dripping with sarcasm.
"You should know my past, right?" Vincent lifted his black teacup and slowly sipped. "I truly was a monster. Even dying a hundred times wouldn't be enough to atone for my crimes. Heaven punished me and gave me a long time to restrain myself and reflect. I live in guilt and unrest every day. Mr. K, do you still think I'm that perverse madman? No. I now only want to be useful to society. I want to atone for the past as best I can."
"Killing to atone?"
"Killing good people doesn't count. But killing the wicked—from another perspective—can be considered a form of doing good. Be honest, Mr. K. Of the scum I point out, which one doesn't deserve to die?" Vincent discussed earnestly.
"With your skills, killing those people is like swatting ants. Why hire me?"
"I was a businessman—a competent one. There's a simple rule: give tasks to the professionals for efficiency. Mr. K, in my mind, you are the most professional killer. Don't doubt my sincerity. I can pay you more—three, five times—whatever it takes."
Damn him. Damn him! I could hardly restrain the impulse to stab him. His self-righteousness, his twisted values, using money to control instinct—it made me sick.
In the end, in his eyes, he was a superior being; everyone else, mere lower animals. He was simply a sadist who liked tormenting others, making excuses along the way.
"Whatever. After this month, I'm done. You can find someone else to be your sword of justice." I picked up the target photos, my face pale, and headed to the door.
As I left, I glanced at Vincent seated in the chair. He seemed slightly disappointed, yet a strange smile tugged at his lips.
The teacher who abused someone—I blew him away with a single shot.
The caregiver who burned the elderly woman—I suffocated her with a plastic bag until her struggling stopped.
Vincent had insisted on 24 hours of torture; I wasn't that twisted.
The man having an affair—I staged a car crash. He was gone at impact.
I tossed Vincent's two-thousand-word "manifesto" into the trash.
Like an employee rejecting his boss's ideology, I became increasingly careless. Surprisingly, Vincent showed no displeasure. He always paid promptly, praised me endlessly, and repeatedly urged me to take a few more jobs before quitting.
But I was resolute. Vincent's presence made me weary of the assassin life, while Luna gave me hope for a new one. The identity of Killer K was drifting away from me.
"Mr. K, this is the last one." Vincent handed me a photograph, his expression calm.
I glanced at it, every pore on my skin tingling.
Weekend—the new chairman of House of Qin Consortium. Rumor had it Vincent's father brought him back from abroad to manage the company. In just two months, he had restored public trust and lifted the company's stock. Newspapers hailed him as the consortium's savior. Killing him now could trigger a massive upheaval.
"Does this one trouble your sense of justice?" I asked, utterly disgusted by Vincent.
"No." Vincent shook his head. "He's an extraordinary young man. Under him, the company is better than ever and could reach unprecedented heights in the foreseeable future."
"Then why kill him?"
"Because I don't want him to become another me." Vincent's words were strange. "Like me before, anyone in that seat would end up the same. Mr. K, haven't you heard that parable? If you could go back, would you kill a child who would grow into a killer? No one wants to kill a child—but left unchecked, they can become a monster. Weekend is such a person. Kill evil in the cradle, Mr. K."
As he finished speaking, thunder rolled across the sky. Outside, it poured rain as if the world itself were ending.