Karen hadn't saved any money. In all his years as an assassin, every payment he earned had been pocketed by the old bastard, under the lofty pretext of, "I'm keeping it safe for you. You'll get it back when you become the leader."
It was just like his time on Blue Star. Before he turned ten, that was how he'd been tricked out of his New Year's gift money. After ten, things changed: they didn't even bother making excuses anymore. He simply had to hand it over.
But things were different now. Bunanren's card held a full twenty thousand dalk. Even in Berlint, the capital of Ostania, that was enough these days for him to live comfortably for an entire year.
The wind swept down the street, carrying fine specks of dust. Karen put his hat back on, pushed open the door, and stepped outside.
A large slash across the chest of his trench coat meant he could no longer wear it out with his usual flair.
Standing at the curb, he raised a hand to hail a taxi. Its dark green body gleamed dully beneath the streetlights.
"Please take me to the best-known clothing shop nearby," Karen said evenly as he settled into the back seat.
A low news broadcast played on the car radio while the streets outside sped past the windows.
About twenty minutes later, the car gradually slowed and finally stopped in front of a brightly lit building.
Through the car window, Karen could clearly see the clothing on display. Soft lighting fell across exquisitely tailored fabrics, making them look stunning.
After paying the fare, Karen strode into the shop on his long legs.
"Welcome. Are you here to collect an order or have something made?" the clerk at the counter asked with a warm smile.
Karen removed his hat. His assassin's vigilance sent his gaze sweeping through the shop like a scanner. From the spiral staircase to the emergency passage by the back door, he committed the entire layout to memory.
"To have something made," he answered briefly.
"Certainly. First, we'll need to take your measurements. This way, please."
The clerk led Karen to the measuring area, the metal tape measure making a faint sound as it moved through the air.
When the clerk's gaze passed over his lean, powerful body, honed through relentless training, he couldn't help swallowing, his Adam's apple bobbing visibly.
Karen narrowed his eyes and watched the clerk like a hawk, silently weighing the possibility. Is this man an enemy?
If I have to attack him in a moment, how should I get out of the shop?
The measurements were soon finished. Karen sat on a soft leather sofa, lifted a bone china cup, and sipped his coffee.
Just then, the glass door opened, and the bell gave a clear ding-dong.
"Hello."
"Hello, ma'am. I'd like to have a beautiful outfit made for my daughter."
Karen's attention immediately shifted to the commotion at the entrance. At the sight of the apparent father and daughter walking in, one hand instinctively reached toward his waist.
Twilight-Loid Forger!
What's he doing here?
Karen's mind raced through the plot he'd once watched. His taut nerves relaxed slightly, but the pistol was already in his palm, his index finger resting lightly on the trigger. At the first sign of trouble, he would empty the magazine.
He remembered a scene like this in the original story. It had also provided the opportunity for Yor and Twilight to meet, along with a brief, iconic moment-Anya looking for a mother.
Things were getting interesting.
Twilight had finished explaining what he wanted made, and the female clerk led Anya away to take her measurements.
Anya's eyes instantly reddened, tears welling up as though her whole world had collapsed. She couldn't help sniffling. "Why do you need my measurements? Anya's going to be sold!"
Her voice trembled with tears as she looked pitifully at Twilight.
Twilight felt utterly drained and rubbed his temples helplessly. Where on earth did this child learn that word?
"As long as you behave, you won't be sold," he reassured her quietly, a trace of weariness in his voice.
Out of professional habit, Twilight, like Karen, discreetly surveyed the entire shop. His gaze lingered briefly on every exit and concealed corner, making sure he could leave safely if anything unexpected happened.
At the same time, he paid particular attention to the women in the shop, his eyes passing over the seamstress, the owner, and the female employee in turn.
The seamstress is wearing a ring. Married?
The owner is on the list of single women, but she was once arrested for political activities. Too risky.
The female employee is a little too old. None of them will do.
With a twinge of regret, Twilight sat down on a sofa in the shop.
Eden Academy's interview required both parents to accompany their child. How was a bachelor like him supposed to find a woman willing to marry him on such short notice?!
"You look troubled, sir. Is something bothering you?" Karen tapped the coffee table twice, the faintest smile curling his lips as he broke the silence.
"Pardon me. I'm Loid Forger, a psychiatrist." Twilight looked at the young man sitting opposite him. He was very young.
"Hello, Mr. Forger. I'm Karen Nocturne, a PE teacher newly hired by Eden Academy this year." Karen watched Twilight with half-lidded eyes, a flicker of amusement in his interested gaze.
His academy assignment would last at least a few years. A disguise could easily cause problems over that long a period, so he had decided to go all in and use both his real appearance and his real name.
To ensure Operation Strix went smoothly, Twilight had committed every piece of information about Eden Academy to memory.
News had indeed emerged two days earlier that Eden Academy had hired a new group of teachers, but neither their names nor their appearances had been disclosed. There was no way to approach them.
He had no connection to any of the teachers already working there, and that had been troubling him.
Having someone inside the academy looking out for them would greatly improve the plan's chances of success.
When he heard that the other man was a new teacher at Eden Academy, Twilight's eyes visibly brightened. He immediately resolved to build a good relationship with him.
"A teacher at Eden Academy? You must be not only highly knowledgeable, but quite accomplished in athletics as well."
"Oh, hardly. It's nothing worth mentioning. Your profession is the truly demanding one. Having to deal with all kinds of patients must give you plenty of headaches."
Karen and Twilight launched into a round of mutual professional flattery.
Still, nothing they said was actually wrong.
Karen really was quite accomplished in athletics-his speed and explosive power when killing people were remarkable. Twilight was a spy who had to deal with all sorts of people from every walk of life. His work really was exhausting and difficult.
"Excuse me."
An unexpected voice suddenly rang out, and both men gave a start almost simultaneously.
Twilight whipped his head around to look at the woman who had already reached the space behind him. He shifted one seat farther in, putting some distance between them.
Even while chatting, he had been keeping an eye on his surroundings. Yet someone had slipped behind him so easily. Who exactly is this woman?
Karen's reaction was even stronger. He sprang up from the sofa, memories of the beating he'd received at noon flooding back and triggering a small stress response.
If not for the last scrap of reason he still possessed, he might have drawn his little pistol and started shooting indiscriminately.
"Um... I need to use the restroom." Karen made an excuse and hurried toward the bathroom, then secretly watched the scene from its doorway.
"Of course, Mr. Karen. Go ahead." After replying, Twilight turned his attention back to Yor behind him, rapidly recalling her personal information.
*[Yor Briar, twenty-seven. No record of marriage or divorce. Both parents deceased. Only one much younger brother. Both are civil servants. Nothing suspicious.*
I must have relaxed while we were talking and let her get behind me.
*And she... meets the requirements.]*
Twilight thought today was turning out to be a very good day. If this worked, his plan would take a major step forward.
Before you continue