Vera stared at Ren, her gaze locked onto his. Her blue hair stood in sharp contrast to her eyes, which were now wide with pure, unadulterated shock. She had been negotiating with a man she assumed was in his mid-twenties—someone a few years her senior—but the reality was a youth barely out of his teens, a boy who had already mastered the art of death.
A heavy silence descended for several seconds. Even Isaac seemed struck dumb by the fact that Ren was the youngest among the three of them. Finally, Isaac broke the quiet.
"Vera, don't hold me back. This time, I'm actually going to hit him!" Isaac lunged forward, his hand almost catching Ren's collar, but Vera pushed him back, re-establishing a safe distance. She needed to settle this immediately.
Nineteen. Vera thought, her mind a swirl of cold disbelief. He just walked out of that bloodbath at the Eye Tower, leaving the entire city in chaos and the police in circles. And he isn't even legal?
Vera's face went pale. She no longer saw the figure before her as a mature, seasoned man, but as a boy whose transition into adulthood had been etched with absolute brutality. A cold dread crept down her spine; this wasn't just skill—it was a violation of the natural order. A boy with eyes that empty should be worrying about final exams, not deciding which carotid artery to sever. Ren was an anomaly that needed to be tethered. His flawless efficiency now felt disturbing, almost unnatural.
Ren didn't flinch. He met Isaac's fury with the same flat, unreadable stare. "Age is logistical data. Much like height and weight. It does not affect the quality of my work."
"It affects morale, Ren!" Isaac snapped, his voice shaking but more controlled. "Did you never have a childhood? What kind of monster are you?"
Ren let out a heavy sigh, a defensive gesture he often fell back on. "I am the most efficient result of a broken system, Isaac. I don't have time for teenage moods. I only have jobs that need to be finished."
Vera realized that to control this Nineteen-Year-Old Anomaly, she had to wield her moral authority and life experience. She leaned in toward Ren, closing the gap.
"Listen closely, Assassin Ren," Vera said. Her voice was quiet, yet it carried a dangerous, pressing weight. It was an assertion of law and ethics. "I don't care who you killed in the past or how many guards you've broken in some hallway. But you will understand one thing: I am the boss here. And I determine the code of conduct."
Ren watched her, seeing not an angry woman, but a logical leader drawing a hard, sensible line.
"You are nineteen," Vera continued, her eyes burning into his. "You know exactly how easily children are destroyed by the cruelty of this world. You've already agreed not to touch children—that was clear. But the boundary goes further. This Red Line extends to age. You are forbidden from accepting targets under the age of twenty-one. No assassin under my roof will kill a fellow 'child' below the legal age of adulthood. If you break that rule, I will cut your access, wipe your data, and let all of Rich City hunt you to the bottom of the abyss. Is that clear?"
Ren looked at Vera. He saw a leader establishing parameters that would secure the integrity of his digital dagger network. He gave a sharp, singular nod—a commitment.
"Accepted. The twenty-one-year-old threshold is a valid parameter. It will be hardcoded into my new Red Line."
With that, Vera had not only secured a lethal partner but had also asserted moral control over him, using his own youth and unspoken trauma as an anchor. The Cube Alliance was now bound by technical treaties and strict ethical constraints.
Two hours after the tension in the bunker subsided, Isaac's large screens flickered to life with Rich City's main news channel.
An anchor read an official statement from the Central Police. "The Eye Tower tragedy, which claimed dozens of lives, has been declared a coup attempt by former General Aslan. Based on forensic evidence and inheritance disputes, investigators conclude that Aslan, the sole heir to the Baron Frey estate, planned the massacre before taking his own life on the helipad. The institutionalized mental state of his wife is believed to be the primary trigger for this extreme act."
The anchor sighed, his gesture formal. "Due to the absence of a legal heir, the Central Government of Rich City will temporarily seize and manage all assets belonging to the Baron Frey family."
Vera watched the screen in disbelief, though a sense of grim relief bubbled beneath the surface. "They swallowed the internal narrative whole."
Isaac, still slightly annoyed, just stared at the screen with a hidden sense of ease. Ren showed no joy, only confirmation. His head throbbed—the price of his successful gambit. He recalled the split-second decision in the ballroom. If Aslan hadn't shot Frey, this would have been much harder. It's a good thing my provocation worked, he thought.
At Police Headquarters, Inspector Laevatein switched off the projector. She slammed her hand against the desk, though the sound was muffled. She knew the narrative was a tidy lie—a lie bought and paid for by those in power. Their priority was assets, not justice.
As she sat in the hollow silence of her office, her phone rang. She answered immediately upon seeing the caller ID.
"Inspector Laevatein," a graceful, authoritative voice spoke from the other end.
"Do not touch the Eye Tower case again. That case is not something you can solve with your ego. As an Inspector, you understand this, don't you?"
Laevatein swallowed hard, her professional mask straining. "Understood, General Rose."
The case was closed. No mention of Santino. No mention of Aegis. No mention of the sabotaged helicopter. Her heart rebelled against her superiors who had buried the truth so cleanly, leaving her disgusted by her own powerlessness.
Santino Cluster, Night
As night fell, the lights of the luxury Santino cluster began to glow, reflecting off the wet asphalt. Ren stepped inside, reclaiming his place within the luxury he exploited. The jacket he'd borrowed from Isaac hung loosely over his shoulders, concealing the arm sling—a reminder from Lulubel that his body demanded a week of patience.
He walked straight to the second floor, a silent sanctuary after the brutal chaos. Ren let himself sink into the quiet, though his mind remained loud. He thought back to the moment he was forced to use a gun instead of a blade. It was the first time he had shot a human, and he felt only emptiness. No 'art,' no 'aesthetic' of movement. He let out a heavy breath, untangling the irritation of breaking his personal code.
A soft but firm knock broke the silence.
"Young Master, it's Erebos," a raspy voice called out. "I'm here to report on the interrogation."
Moments later, Erebos was inside the room. The sound of the lock turning felt like a death knell in the silence—click!
Ren stood with his back to Erebos, facing the window and the city lights beyond. "There's no need to lock the door for a simple report," Ren said, his voice as calm and sharp as a hidden dagger. "What is it you want to say?"
"The interrogation went smoothly. I told Inspector Laevatein exactly what you suggested," Erebos reported, his voice flat. He took two steps forward, maintaining a respectful distance. "I presented the duplicate invitation as proof that Santino was absent due to illness. And finally, I confirmed that no member named 'Daniel' exists within the Santino group."
"Good. Santino's habit of bribing everyone up to the Police Commissioner is a stupidity that serves us well. An Inspector like Laevatein can't fight her superiors." Ren turned fully, his orange eyes boring into Erebos. He raised an eyebrow. "And the other thing?"
Erebos didn't answer immediately. He swallowed hard—a gesture foreign to a man who had just faced a high-ranking Inspector with perfect composure. His muscular hands trembled, clenching at his sides as if holding back a flood of buried emotion.
"I..." Erebos started, the word catching in his throat.
Ren waited patiently, his unreadable calm demanding a confession.
In the suffocating silence, Erebos took a final breath. He dropped to the wooden floor, sinking into a respectful, kneeling position. The sound of his knees hitting the wood cracked through the room like breaking glass.
"Young Master Ren," Erebos finally spoke, the name slipping out with a mix of profound respect and terror.
Ren offered a thin, rare smile—a curve so slight it was almost invisible. He had never told Santino or his men his name. This was the first time he had heard it spoken with a full title by Erebos.
In that moment, Erebos knew the game was over. He was ready to reveal everything.