In the sun-drenched alleys and neon-soaked corridors of the global underworld, stories were told in whispers. They spoke of a shadow, a ghost who didn't care for politics or nations. They spoke of a boy who survived a plane crash at five and emerged from the wreckage as a god of war.
His name was Tobias Sunset.
By age fourteen, the name was a death sentence. To his enemies, he was a nightmare; to his peers, he was the unreachable peak of the profession. He was the Ultimate Mercenary. Everyone expected him to burn a path of blood through history until the world itself trembled. They expected him to stay a monster.
But life has a funny way of rerouting the best-laid plans. After finishing a high-stakes mission that should have been his magnum opus, Tobias didn't find a bounty. He found something much more terrifying.
"You're... Tobi, right?"
The voice had been soft, feminine, and thick with a decade of unshed tears. He had stood there, his hands still stained with the carbon of a rifle, staring at a woman who looked like a ghost of his own reflection.
"W-What..."
In that single, stuttering moment, the legend died. Tobias Sunset, the boy who feared nothing, walked away from a billion-dollar life. He traded his tactical gear for a school uniform, his sniper rifle for a textbook, and his bloodlust for a younger sister's laughter. He did the one thing no one in the underworld ever survives doing.
He retired.
Velanor City: Present Day
The morning sun hit the glass of a modest storefront in the heart of Velanor. The sign overhead was hand-painted, slightly weathered but sturdy: SUNSET: JACK OF ALL TRADES.
Inside, a young man with snow-white hair tied back in a neat, utilitarian ponytail stepped through the door. This was Tobias at nineteen calm, composed, and wearing a dark green apron with a simple name tag pinned to his chest: TOBIAS.
The shop was his kingdom now. He moved with a rhythm that would have made a watchmaker jealous. He didn't just clean; he executed a "daily business routine" with the tactical precision of a breach-and-clear mission. He mopped the floor in three minutes flat, every stroke overlapping perfectly. He stocked the shelves with such speed that the cans of soup seemed to teleport into neat rows.
Outside, a customer waited. Tobias stepped out to a stalled sedan, a toolkit in hand. In the time it took the customer to blink, Tobias had diagnosed the engine, tightened the belt, and cleared the fuel line.
"Thanks for coming," Tobias said with a practiced, polite smile as the customer drove off, bewildered by the speed of the service.
Tobias walked back inside, the bell over the door chiming softly. He let out a long, weary sigh the kind only a man who has seen too much can give. He reached under the counter, pulled out a "Shoujo" manga titled Daily Life, and cracked open a bag of salt-and-vinegar chips. This was his true peace: snacks and fictional high school romance.
A few blocks away, a sleek black car pulled to a stop. A boy stepped out, the sunlight catching his vibrant auburn hair, making it glow like a dying ember. He adjusted his blue jacket and straightened his black jeans, his eyes scanning the shopfronts with a predator's focus.
"So, this is where he's hiding," the boy whispered. He took a long sip of juice from a cardboard carton, his expression unreadable. "The best of us. The Ultimate Mercenary. I've checked every dark hole on this planet, and I find you... here? In a hardware store?"
He finished the juice and, with a casual flick of his wrist, tossed the empty carton into the air. It performed a perfect arc, spinning exactly three times before dropping into a trash bin ten yards away without touching the rim.
"Bro... Tobias. I finally found you."
Back inside the shop, Tobias was deep into Chapter 4 of his manga. The protagonist was about to confess her love behind the gym when a shadow fell over his book.
"Hey, Mister! I want to play the dart game!"
Tobias didn't look up. He knew the voice. It belonged to an elementary schooler in a blue cap and a purple shirt, his oversized school bag bouncing on his shoulders.
"You're just coming from school," Tobias said, his eyes scanning the panels of his manga. "Go home, kid. Your mom is probably worried."
"If I hit the target three times, you have to give me three prizes!" the boy shouted, slamming his lunch money onto the counter.
Tobias finally lowered the book, his pale eyes landing on the kid. The "Dart Game" was a small side-attraction Tobias had set up a simple way for the neighborhood kids to win candy or small toys.
"Fine," Tobias sighed, trashing his empty chip wrapper with a flick of his fingers. "But you're going to lose. You're leaning too far to the left."
"Oh my, are you picking on the customers again?"
A woman walked into the shop, carrying a heavy crate of supplies. She looked to be in her mid-twenties, perhaps twenty-six, with a face that radiated a warm, older-sister energy. She wore a matching "Sunset" apron. Behind her, a younger girl followed, clutching a stack of flyers.
Tobias immediately stood up, his lazy posture vanishing. He took the heavy box from the woman's arms as if it weighed nothing.
"He's been coming here every day, hasn't he?" she asked, wiping a bit of dust off the counter.
"Yep," Tobias replied, his voice softening. "He keeps wasting his lunch money on the random games. Today, he thinks he's an expert marksman."
The lady smiled, but there was a hidden depth in her eyes the look of someone who knew exactly what kind of monster her brother used to be, and how hard he was working to keep the monster in the cage.
Tobias went back to his stool, picking up his manga. He looked like a normal teen. He felt like a normal teen. But his ears picked up the sound of a car door closing a block away. He felt the shift in the air.
Someone was coming. Someone who knew the name "Sunset."
Tobias turned a page in his book. I just wanted to finish this chapter, he thought. Just one more chapter of peace.