Bang!
Click... Click... Click...
The loud slam of the door was instantly followed by the sound of three layers of locks—both digital and manual—sliding into place.
Revy, disguised as a teenage girl, dropped heavily into the chair in front of the multi-monitor workstation in her secret safehouse. The elite female assassin was still overwhelmed by paranoia. Cold sweat drenched her back and hairline, as if she had just sprinted out of hell itself.
'Who... exactly is that man!?'
Revy didn't wait for the agonizing curiosity to eat away at her brain. She frantically hammered the keyboard, pulling up the digital 'Target Dossier' provided by the broker to review it once more. This time, she focused her deep dive entirely on the data regarding 'Owen', the ordinary-looking young man dragging the suitcase.
However... what appeared on the main screen only made her even more frustrated.
Because this man's file was practically empty and contained absolutely nothing useful! There were only a few ordinary candid photos. The shallow background info merely stated he was an acquaintance affiliated with Sahara, and there was only one tiny line of text that read:
[ Owen : A new Rank B Awakener who awakened less than half a year ago. ]
"Rank B, my ass!?" Revy cursed loudly, slamming her fist onto the desk. "This garbage data completely contradicts the [0.0001%] I just saw! They're worlds apart!"
The female assassin refused to give up and absolutely refused to believe this data. She booted up her highly encrypted network to access the Dark Web, a haven for underground hackers and intelligence brokers.
Revy decided to shell out a massive sum of cryptocurrency to hire top-tier hackers to breach various databases—whether it was the Awakened Association, the National Security Council, the Medical Council, and more—to extract every shred of 'in-depth background data' on Owen Marlow. That still wasn't enough; she also purchased information related to him from underground intelligence brokers, just in case he had a past in the underworld.
An hour later... a new batch of data was delivered to her server.
The vast majority of his background still depicted a ridiculously bland, ordinary person. However... there were a few 'specific points' that, upon reading, made Revy's eyes widen, and the puzzle pieces finally began to snap together.
Point One: Owen was not just an ordinary independent Awakener. He was the sole 'Direct Disciple' personally acknowledged and trained by the mighty Rank S Awakener, 'Nova'!
Point Two: There was a record stating that he was sucked into a 'Chaos Gate' and somehow emerged alive, despite being nothing more than an unawakened 'ordinary person' at the time!
Point Three (Rumor): There was unverified intel from the underground suggesting... this man might be the one who killed 'Jagger', the brutal Awakener known by the alias "Black Armored Vehicle".
Upon reading this information, her brain rapidly processed the data, connecting the dots.
"Rank S disciple... survived a Chaos Gate... killed the Black Armored Vehicle..." Revy muttered, biting her nails with a dead-serious expression, her brows knitted together.
It was true that this information made the 'one-in-a-million' number floating above his head "start to make a bit of sense"... but only a tiny bit!
In the logic of a top-tier assassin, no matter how much hell Owen had been through, or if he was skilled enough to kill the Black Armored Vehicle, the assassination success rate should never plummet to an abysmal 0.0001%! At worst, it should be around 5% or 10%! The data the hackers found didn't even explain half of how completely absurd that number was!
"This guy... he definitely has to be hiding an S-Rank power or some insanely overpowered ability..."
Revy concluded firmly in her mind. The fact that he could flawlessly conceal the aura and power of a powerhouse so perfectly that she couldn't sense a thing only emphasized how terrifying this target truly was.
Revy let out a heavy sigh, pressing a hand against her chest to feel her still-racing heart. If her [The Grim Scythe] skill hadn't warned her, she would have recklessly attacked. The man would have undoubtedly counter-attacked, forcing her to flee for her life, or worse—return in pieces. And her proud '100% success rate' record would have been shattered to dust.
As the tension finally began to fade, frustration skyrocketed in its place!
Sitting there reviewing the absolute madness she had encountered all day... whether it was Sahara, the main target with an incomprehensible defense mechanism, or Owen, a monster hiding S-Rank power... This job was no longer an assassination; it was a straight-up walk to the executioner's block!
Revy was beyond furious. She vented her anger by slamming the mouse, clicking the [ Reject Job ] button on the screen. She then hammered the keyboard, firing back a scathing, profanity-laced message to the underground broker, warning him to never send her a suicide mission like this again.
"Don't you ever dare send me a 'stupid job' like this again!"
...
Cutting back to the luxury of the 'Elysian Garb' boutique.
"M-Madam! I have urgent news to report!"
The panicked voice of the underground broker pierced through the door before the man himself burst into Miranda's office, looking terrified. He stood there panting heavily, his face pale as a ghost.
"What is it! The Grim Scythe accepted the job, right?" Miranda, who was sitting with her legs crossed, happily sipping red wine after seeing her weekly sales jump by 10%, asked with a confident smirk.
"N-No! The Grim Scythe... they... they rejected our job!" The broker stammered his report. "A-And they sent a scathing message back too... saying... s-saying to never send a 'stupid job' like this again!"
'Stupid job'... those two words echoed relentlessly in Miranda's ears.
While Revy had typed those words meaning "an impossible suicide mission," in Miranda's ego-driven, jealousy-filled brain... she interpreted the message in an entirely different direction!
'A stupid job!? What does that mean... Is this an insult!? Do they think assassinating Sahara... a target who is merely a 'fashion celebrity'... is just a pathetic, worthless job not fit for a top assassin to handle personally!?'
That thought was like a bucket of gasoline thrown onto a roaring fire! To Miranda, Sahara was her mortal enemy, the greatest obstacle in her life. But for a hired assassin to brush it off and view it as just a "stupid, uninteresting job" was the ultimate disrespect, viciously trampling on all her efforts!
Miranda's thread of patience snapped instantly!
"A stupid job!!?"
Splash!! Crash!!
Miranda shrieked at the top of her lungs, completely losing her mind. She grabbed the freshly poured crystal wine glass and hurled it violently at the broker's face. The blood-red wine splashed, completely soaking his face and suit, before the glass fell to the floor and shattered into pieces.
Aaaahhh!!
The second wave of madness erupted in full force. Miranda shot up from her chair. Her slender arms, adorned with jewels, swept everything off her desk—folders, a gold pen, and a handmade lamp—sending them crashing to the floor in a scattered mess.
She began screaming curses at everything with the fury of a madwoman. "Sahara! You slut! Even an assassin dares to look down on my target!? You scumbags! What kind of sick fate is this, why does it never side with someone as perfect and flawless as me!!"
Her sharp stilettos stomped repeatedly on the scattered documents and glass shards. Miranda unleashed her insane rage, destroying everything in her path. The unfortunate broker could only stand trembling, shrinking into the corner of the room, not even daring to make a sound.
Minutes later, having exhausted herself venting her anger, Miranda began to somewhat regain her composure. Her slightly plump chest heaved violently. She flipped her messy blonde hair out of her face before turning to glare at the underground broker with eyes that were utterly clouded and merciless.
"Since that trash assassin doesn't see the value in my job..." Miranda ordered with a chilling, raspy voice. "You go and hire other top-tier assassins in the black market instead!"
The broker looked up fearfully. "B-But Madam..."
"Go find two or three top-tier killers! Or drag in an entire team! Whoever dares to take the job, let them name their price!" Miranda roared fiercely, her eyes wide with insanity. "I want to see Sahara utterly destroyed!"
"U-Understood, Madam! I will get on it right away!"
The broker nodded furiously, accepting the order, before spinning around and sprinting out of the office as fast as his legs could carry him, terrified that if he stayed a second longer, he might become a corpse instead of the target.
As the chaos departed, leaving only silence... Miranda remained standing, panting heavily amidst the ruined remains of her once-luxurious penthouse. Her bright red lips continued to mutter relentless curses at her mortal enemy, waiting for the day this fire of vengeance would burn the Fashion Queen to ashes!
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