Twilight

"Are you really that scared of a woman, Karen?!" The boss was exasperated. The assassin he had painstakingly trained was actually backing down. "You're the second-ranked assassin in the business! Over the years, you've killed more than a hundred assassins yourself!"

The engine's roar reverberated through the enclosed car. Karen kept licking his lollipop. "Say whatever you want. I'm not going!"

He crumpled the wrapper into a ball and threw it against the armrest.

Neon light streamed through the window, illuminating Karen's troubled face.

Karen knew perfectly well that this wasn't just a matter of the difference in their strength.

As someone who had transmigrated into this world, he knew all too well how important Yor was to the plot.

Without Yor, there would be no later connection with Melinda Desmond, and the intrigue aboard the cruise ship could plunge the world into war again.

The peaceful years he had spent on Blue Star had left him with a deep hatred of war. Three years spent fleeing and hiding after his transmigration had only made him understand more clearly what renewed fighting would mean.

He was an assassin, but he wasn't heartless.

"Tch. Fine, then." The boss exhaled a thick cloud of smoke and ground his cigarette out against the steering wheel, leaving a scorch mark.

He stared at Karen's reflection in the rearview mirror. As the head of an assassin organization, he wanted to claim the title of "the world's greatest assassin," but his strongest subordinate refused to do as he was told.

If only I were twenty years younger...

"So the target is that document, right? I'll get my hands on it ahead of time." Karen suddenly broke the silence, his voice as cold as the night wind outside.

He knew this old fox too well. The man would never gamble the organization's interests for an empty title.

"That's right. The target is that document. Sorry for the trouble... Now, hand over the bank card." The boss abruptly changed his expression, forcing a friendly smile as he reached toward the back seat.

Karen froze, swallowing twice.

That was his payment of five hundred thousand dalc. The card still held Harlan's warmth after Karen had just talked him into handing it over.

He reluctantly fished out the bank card, his fingertips gripping it hard enough to nearly scratch its surface, before finally letting go in resignation.

"I'll hold on to the money for you. You'll get it back when you take over the organization." Humming a little tune, the boss slipped the card into his pocket, started the car, and turned into an alley.

"All right, we're here. Time for you to get out."

The instant the door opened, cold wind rushed into the car, carrying a medley of smells from the street.

Karen pulled his collar tighter and watched the taxi's taillights disappear around the corner.

"That old bastard pocketed my hard-earned money again."

He cursed into the deserted street and put his hat back on.

The streetlights stretched his shadow long across the pavement. Standing beneath the hotel's neon sign, Karen saw his furrowed brow reflected in the glass doors.

An attendant's greeting drifted out from the lobby. He felt the pistol hidden in his pocket, and the cold touch of metal gradually calmed him.

"Now I need to think carefully about how to make a copy of that document without alerting security."

He murmured to himself, his white breath condensing into tiny droplets in the cold air.

In another city far away, drizzle pattered against a car roof, and the streetlights spread hazy yellow halos over the wet road. A man took a photograph from his informant, the cold sweat on his palm dampening its edges. He slammed down the accelerator, and the black sedan shot into the rain like an arrow released from a bow, its tires screeching against the road.

With a ripping sound like tearing fabric, the man pulled off his disguise mask, revealing a handsome face with sharply defined features. Fine beads of sweat slid down his jaw as he let out a heavy breath. "Whew-got what I came for. Now I have to deal with Caren." His fingers quickly combed through his slightly disheveled hair. The moment he put on his metal-rimmed glasses, his expression changed completely, as though he had become someone else.

In an age when the nations of this world waged fierce intelligence wars behind the scenes, this man navigated the battlefield with his versatile mastery of disguise. His codename struck fear into nations everywhere-Twilight.

"Robert, listen to me. When are we getting married?" Caren hurried after him, her high heels tapping rapidly against the stone pavement. The cold wind whipped up her skirt as she reached for his sleeve.

"Let's break up. Nothing you say shows the slightest intelligence." Twilight never looked back, his voice ice-cold.

No matter how Caren pleaded behind him, his heart remained unmoved, until he disappeared from her sight.

Caren had merely been a tool for approaching his target. Now that the target had outlived his usefulness, it was time to discard the mask called "Robert" as well.

Marriage? Happiness?

He had buried his longing for such things with his own hands the day he became a spy.

Peace was all he cared about. Even if he became a skeleton beneath its foundations, he would have no regrets.

Aboard the train, the steam engine's whistle pierced the damp air.

Twilight sat in a corner, wisps of white steam rising from the coffee before him.

He had already completed the intelligence handoff.

He leafed through a newspaper, his eyes rapidly scanning its seemingly ordinary text and extracting the hidden information from its special arrangement.

At first, the message was perfectly normal: greetings from his superior, followed by instructions for his next assignment.

Then he reached the mission requirements.

Even after years of espionage had made him almost unshakably composed, his pupils abruptly contracted.

Twilight choked, spraying a mouthful of coffee over the newspaper. The brown liquid spread between the printed letters.

Almost reflexively, he tore the newspaper to pieces, his knuckles whitening with the force of his grip. His face filled with alarm. "Pfft-what?! You want me to produce a child in seven days?!"

The carriage suddenly fell silent, and more than a dozen pairs of eyes turned toward him. Twilight took a deep breath, forced himself to regain his composure, and pulled out a spotless white handkerchief to wipe his mouth. "My apologies."

His voice had regained its usual steadiness, but turmoil still churned within him.

It was all for world peace...

His new identity was Loid Forger, a psychiatrist.

As he stood before the orphanage's rust-covered iron gates, the fading light stretched his shadow long.

He pushed open the creaking wooden door, and the smell of alcohol hit him. The drunken director clapped him on the shoulder and pushed a timid little girl in front of him.

After a series of tests, Twilight decided to adopt the little girl.

"I'll take her. This little girl."

"My name is Anya."

Anya tilted her little face up, her green eyes as clear as a lake.

She didn't know that the man calling himself her father was plotting how to complete his mission. Nor did Loid know that this seemingly ordinary little girl possessed the supernatural ability to read minds.

She had been born within a certain organization and designated Test Subject 007. An unexpected incident had allowed her to escape, after which she had moved from place to place in search of someone willing to adopt her.

When Anya's little hand closed around Loid's finger, half the Forger family's official members had come together.