(Recently, something involving Spy x Family has been making the rounds. There was no collaboration with Cabinet Academy. Wallace in Japan simply collaborated with both franchises at the same time and put them on the same poster, which people with ulterior motives then exploited. Please be aware.
March 6, 2026)
Night fell like a curtain, its darkness as thick as undiluted ink, shrouding the city.
Inside an abandoned office building roughly a kilometer from the tower, the night wind howled through broken windows with a mournful whimper.
The man lowered his binoculars and brought the guitar bag on his back around to rest on the steel reinforcement bars before him. Metal struck metal with a soft, dull clink.
He unzipped the bag. Inside was not a guitar, but a sniper rifle disassembled into several components.
His fingers moved swiftly and nimbly, their defined joints flexing as he fitted the parts together with precision. Every movement carried the practiced ease of years of training. Once the rifle was assembled, he adjusted the scope and looked toward a floor midway up the tower.
A party was taking place there.
Countless men and women in lavish clothing mingled and laughed beneath the dazzling light refracted by crystal chandeliers. Many attractive attendants wove through the crowd as they worked.
But the man's gaze did not linger on those glamorous women. Through his scope, he watched a bald, middle-aged man sitting on a burgundy sofa, enjoying being fed by beautiful women, and the sleazy middle-aged man opposite him, who was groping an attendant in his arms.
The two men were talking. Two black cases sat on the table, and through the scope, he could see that both were stuffed with money.
The man could not read lips, nor did he need to.
He took a small flag from inside his jacket and planted it beside him. A 360-degree ring was mounted at the top.
The night wind swept up scraps of paper, sending them spiraling through the air.
"The deflection angle is forty degrees." His voice was low and calm. "Divide the angle by the constant four, then multiply by one point six to get the approximate wind speed... sixteen kilometers per hour."
He paused, his gaze sweeping over the markings in his scope. "The distance to the target is 936.72 meters."
Then he began adjusting his firing angle.
The man's index finger rested firmly on the trigger. His expression was indifferent, his face devoid of any unnecessary emotion, like a cold statue.
He was waiting for a message through his earpiece-a message telling him to fire.
There was no question that this man was an assassin.
About three minutes later, an emotionless voice spoke. "Westalis diplomat Harvey Laurier has been dealt with. You may proceed."
"Understood." As he spoke, the man pulled the trigger.
A muffled gunshot rang out. In an instant, the middle-aged man in his scope collapsed.
He swiftly chambered another round, swung his scope toward the other man, and pulled the trigger again.
After the two shots, chaos erupted in the tower. Screams and shouts mingled, carrying far through the windows.
"Mission complete." The man swiftly disassembled his rifle, stuffed the parts into the guitar bag, pulled his hat lower, and headed downstairs.
Rather than immediately putting distance between himself and the tower, the man did the opposite. He walked straight toward its entrance.
Along the way, the guitar bag on his shoulder slipped into the back seat of a car.
Nine hundred meters was not far. He covered the distance in five minutes.
The police assigned to guard the tower had already taken control of the entrance. Red and blue emergency lights flashed continuously. When they saw a stranger approaching, they quickly moved into formation.
"Sir, stay back!" One officer stared fixedly at the man while drawing a pistol from inside his jacket. At the slightest suspicious movement, he would fire without hesitation.
The man smiled faintly, took off his hat, and held it against his chest. "My dear Officer Viel, may I go inside?"
"Oh, it's you! Of course!" Officer Viel waved to his subordinates, clearing a path. "Senator Haber, please."
"Mm..." The man gave a casual grunt and entered the tower, with Officer Viel following obsequiously behind him.
"May I ask what brings you here, Senator?"
"I was passing by and happened to hear gunshots." The man did not look back. "I was worried something had gone wrong with the transaction here, so I came to take a look."
"Sorry to have troubled you. We've already sent officers to seal off every road within five kilometers. We'll catch the culprit without fail."
"Mm." As though something had occurred to him, the man turned toward Officer Viel. "Don't forget the sewers. Rats never forget the home they depend on for survival."
His eyes were deep and unreadable.
"You're right. I'll arrange it immediately." Flustered, Officer Viel hastily took out his phone to report to headquarters.
The man continued upstairs, with officers greeting him all along the way.
He reached the scene of the shooting without difficulty. The officer at the entrance opened the door for him.
The party hall was now a complete mess, shards of champagne glasses scattered across the floor. All the attendants and guests had been taken to other rooms. Only a few dozen officers and four doctors remained, along with two stretchers at their feet.
The man's gaze settled on the two stretchers, and his ears twitched.
No sounds of breathing. Targets confirmed dead.
He silently noted this, then walked over to the glass and gestured around the two bullet holes with his hands.
"The shooter fired from that building over there." The man pointed toward the spot where he had taken his shots and addressed the group of officers behind him.
"What?! Hurry! Go check that building!" Viel quickly sent the officers behind him into action, then approached the man and began flattering him.
"As expected of a senator who served on the battlefield. Your skills really are extraordinary."
"...Take me home." With that, the man turned and headed back. Officer Viel found it strange. Had the senator come just to take a look?
But the gulf between their positions was enormous, and he dared not neglect him. "Of course. I'll drive you myself."
The man arrived home without incident.
Officer Viel did not leave immediately. Instead, he had already drawn the gun from inside his jacket.
If the man walked away or failed to get through the door, he would tranquilize him on the spot.
But the man pushed the door open without difficulty. Officer Viel breathed a sigh of relief. Apparently, he was the real thing. He drove away.
The man switched on the lights, instantly illuminating the entire living room. Clap, clap, clap. Applause rang out. A figure appeared on the second floor and descended the stairs while clapping, then sat on the sofa and poured two cups of coffee.
A closer look would have revealed something startling: the two men had identical faces.
"No wonder you're the world's second-best assassin! Your marksmanship and mastery of disguise are both first-rate." The real Senator Haber regarded the man appreciatively. At the same time, his hand slipped into a gap in the sofa.
"Karen Nocturne..."
"Senator, please don't make any unnecessary movements. Otherwise... you'll die."
The man-no, Karen Nocturne-held his coffee in one hand. A tiny pistol appeared in his other as if from thin air, its dark muzzle aimed directly at Senator Haber.
"..." Haber's fingertips had already touched metal, but his body froze.