"What was I to you, Prince Dio?"
Her voice cracked. "A doll, perfect for a Duke? Am I nothing but my face?" She began to scratch her cheek, nails peeling skin. "Why her, and not me?"
Prince Dio merely stared, his expression blank.
"Perhaps," he stated, his voice devoid of all emotion, "if you were not so ruthless. So wicked. Then there might be room for you in my heart."
A liar.
Even if I were an angel, even if I gave everything to the church, he would never love me.
He will never choose me. Only her.
A scoundrel. A scammer. A user.
Reise Worthon smiled at the Prince as if she had finally lost her mind.
I am peerless. My family rivals the crown itself.
A woman like me, tossed aside for a commoner.
What a scandal.
She stepped onto the balcony's railing and turned to face him. "You once said I was like a rose. That is why I came to love them. That is why they call me the Wicked Rose." She offered a final, bittersweet smile. "Thank you for ten years of nothing, my love."
Then, she let herself fall.
Horror dawned in the Prince's eyes.
The sound of impact echoed through the palace grounds.
The Wicked Rose was torn apart.
Snap.
G6 shut the book, her irritation a living thing. "Fucking stupid," she mumbled.
She leaned against the cold stone of a rooftop, high above the busy streets and unreachable city lights.
"Your taste in tragic romance creeps me out sometimes," said the man beside her, his eyes never leaving his binoculars.
"Do your job." G6 pulled her sniper rifle from its case and began cleaning the lens with methodical precision.
"It's just weird. A Reaper hooked on cheap romance. Or are you just bitter because it's impossible for yo—" He stiffened. "Target's on the move."
G6 slid into position, settling behind the rifle. The city glittered below, a map of light and shadow.
Searching. Zooming.
"Target for appraisal," she said into her earpiece.
Operator: "Target confirmed. Proceed."
G6: "Locked in."
A gunshot shattered the night.
Guards panicked. Screams erupted.
G6: "Mission complete. G6 signing—"
Operator: "Mission ongoing. Apprehend the man in red. He's the primary."
G6's brows furrowed. One target. That was the briefing. She returned to her scope.
"Explain," she demanded, voice icy as she repositioned.
Operator: "Target disguised as a bodyguard."
What's the use of an appraisal if you can't get it right? Useless system.
"He's running. Secure the route, Pisces. I'll chase." She stood, discarding the rifle on the rooftop.
Pisces: "Roger."
G6 became a shadow against the city's glow, chasing the fleeing car from above. A grappling gun tethered to her waist sent her swinging between buildings—a phantom cutting through neon and smoke.
This is too much for extortion, she thought as she swung.
G6: "Activate zoom on my left lens." She ran, a pistol now in her hand.
Operator: "Zoom activated."
She outpaced the vehicle, leaping a hundred meters ahead to a new perch atop the central church.
Scanning. Zooming.
G6: "Target for appraisal."
Operator: "Target confirmed. Proceed without reserve."
A pain in the neck. Her finger squeezed the trigger.
G6: "Locked in."
Silence. Then, the crash. The city's chaos was her victory fanfare.
G6: "Mission complete. G6 signing out."
She stepped off the ledge, arms spread wide as if they were wings.
Her name is Akira Gemstone, codename "G6." The most feared Reaper. Once your name was on her list, death waited at your door.
「APARTMENT」
"G6, this book feels ancient, yet the story is so similar to the modern novels." Pisces flipped through the yellowed pages.
"Right? I don't even know myself why I was drawn to that stupid book." She searched through the fridge, retrieving two beers.
Her eyes caught the vials on the counter shelf.
Ah, right. My vitamins.
She absently took a vial, swallowed one pill, and chugged it down.
"And the way the book ended on the villainess's death, yet the title is The Wonder of a Wonderful World? It's kind of unsettling." Pisces shut the book closed.
G6 slumped onto the couch and opened a can of beer.
"You kill people for a living. Hearing you say you found something unsettling is more unsettling than that one." She turned her back to him and cranked the volume to its highest.
"IT'S DEAFENING, G6!" Pisces stood, pulling on his jacket. He handed her the book. "Don't fall asleep with the TV on. Have pity for the one who pays the bill."
"Can't hear you." G6 chugged her beer.
Pisces paused at the door.
"Watch your eyes," G6 said, not turning.
"Don't be cold. I just wanted to say… be careful. You might end up as the villainess in a story like that."
"If I were," she replied, her eyes locked on the screen, "it would be their doom."
Pisces shook his head and left.
To the world, G6 was a legend. To Pisces, she was a sharp-tongued, twenty-one-year-old drunkard and professional freeloader—his senior and partner.
G6 was the renowned sixth Gemstone assassin to earn the title "Reaper," bestowed for a body count that surpassed standard metrics and a mastery of every combat form: marksmanship, martial arts, and swordsmanship. Raised in a household of retired killers, her skill was inevitable.
And it was safe to say it was almost… inhuman.
At least, for this world.
—❈—
Birds chirping.
Sunlight fell across a delicate face.
A hand touched her shoulder.
The body reacted before the mind caught up—a lifetime of training. Akira grabbed the wrist, twisted, and pinned the figure to the bed in one violent motion.
G6 looked down, her gaze flat. A woman in a ridiculous, frilly outfit stared back, eyes wide with terror.
"Who sent you?" The voice that came out was wrong. Lighter. Softer. Wrong.
"M-my lady…" the woman's eyes brimmed with tears, her face full of fear.
"My lady…?" Another appeared in the doorway, dressed identically. "What's wrong?"
G6's eyes turned cold. "What the fuck is this? Your kink? Fetish? You want to wear that to your funerals?" she said, her voice a monotone.
It didn't register.
Not immediately.
Doubt washed over her as she realized she was in a different place. Everything was ornate. Everything was decidedly medieval.
For the first time in her life, her guard dropped. She released the woman's wrist and stood between two terrified servants.
Her eyes swept the room. Gilded. Flouncy. A rich person's fantasy.
Where the fuck am I?
"Talk. Where is this?" Again, that stupid, soft voice. It was coming from her.
"Whatever do you mean, Lady Reise?" the woman nearer the door asked.
The name immediately rang a bell.
Not because this was some cliché story.
But because she was a Reaper. And every detail she read, she remembered with perfect clarity.
She turned, and her blood went cold.
The Wicked Rose of Worthon is a delicate, beautiful woman. Rose-gold hair, a face like a porcelain doll. Her eyes are as beautiful as moonlight caught in winter frost.
As she recalled the description, she found it matched exactly the reflection staring back at her.
The full-body mirror showed a stranger who fit the words precisely.
The very same stupid book she'd finished last night flashed through her mind.
Reise Worthon. The Wicked Rose. The pathetic bitch who jumped off a balcony.
A silent, furious laugh choked her.
You've got to be kidding me.
She looked at the confused and trembling maids.
"Get the fuck out of this room unless you want to die." Her voice edged with ice, her glare cutting.
The two maids' eyes widened. They hurried out, nearly stumbling over each other.
G6 walked close to the mirror.
She formed a fist so tight—CRASH!
The echo of shattering glass reverberated not only through the room but down the halls beyond. The cleaning servants jumped in fear, as if the sound were a cue for something dreadful.
But before G6, her reflection now lay fractured in the shattered mirror, smeared with blood.
She scoffed and ran her bleeding hand through her hair.
"The pain is fucking real," she said.
Hurried footsteps approached. Her door flew open.
A maid wearing eyeglasses appeared, nearly out of breath—but her expression held not fear, but worry.
G6 stared at her. The maid's eyes fell to G6's bleeding hands.
"MY LADY! WHAT IN THE WORLD HAPPENED?!" she shouted, rushing forward.
When she reached for G6's hands, G6 slapped them away with the back of her own—the already bleeding one.
"Who the fuck are you?"
The maid went silent. Somehow, her theatrical mistress felt… oddly different.
"W-what do you mean, my lady? Tina—who else?" Her voice wavered.
Tina…
As Reise walks through the garden just after Prince Dio ignores her, she looks back at the one who only cares for her. "Tina, this garden is peaceful, no?"
The line surfaced from the book.
Ah. That maid.
She was about to speak when her eyes caught a book tucked beneath the pillow.
She didn't know why, but instinct screamed at her. She shoved Tina aside and yanked the pillow away.
And as if mocking her, the fury coiling in her chest ignited with fresh confusion.
The Wonder of a Wonderful World.
Her stomach lurched. That wasn't a good sign. That wasn't a sign at all. It was a cosmic slap to the face.
A sudden, static headache rang in her ears. She frowned in pain, pressing her palms to her temples.
A whisper, thin and desperate, coiled at the back of her skull. It would be great if I was not her…
"What the hell is happening?" she breathed.
"My lady, are you quite alright?" Tina watched her like a bird eyeing a rattlesnake.
G6 ignored her. She was busy trying not to hyperventilate in a body that apparently considered fainting a valid hobby.
"Lady Reise, please speak. Are you upset because His Highness has not visited?" Tina's voice was gentle, pitying.
His Highness? That royal ass?
A heavy, sick feeling settled in her chest—a borrowed sadness, a ghost in the machine. It made her want to punch something.
She sat at the foot of the bed and dragged her hands down her face, smearing blood across those delicate features.
I can't breathe.
Lack of information.
Overwhelming.
Am I inside the novel I was reading?
Alright. Let's be hypothetical. Rational.
I can feel the sting in my hand. There's no way I'm dreaming.
Delirious? Hallucination?
No. My body and mind are conditioned to fight those.
Then Pisces's explanation about that famous Japanese webcomic echoed in her mind.
"Listen, G6. This guy is an ordinary office worker in his previous life, but he died and reincarnated as a slime."
Her blood-smeared face went pale.
"I…" G6's voice cracked. "Died?"
She felt like a system hit with a virus.
She malfunctioned. For the first time.
Unable to think. Unable to move.
「FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER」
G6 sat still on her bed. Tina knelt before her, cleaning the wound on her hand. The maid looked troubled, worried.
But G6 was elsewhere. Her mind spiraled.
Did I die?
If I did, how?
Did someone infiltrate the apartment? Impossible. I would have known.
Did Pisces betray me? Kill me?
Foolish. GAO doesn't breed traitors.
Then… how?
She replayed her last moments in the apartment. The completed hit. The beer. The counter.
Two vials. Her muscle relaxants. And the other one. The strong stuff she'd used for her Milan injury.
Morphine.
The label flashed in her mind, clear as day. She'd grabbed the wrong bottle. Swallowed the pills. Without a second thought.
A wave of pure, professional disgust washed over her.
She stood abruptly. Tina startled, her hands jerking back.
"I fucking killed myself with my own inadequacy?" she mumbled.
A silent scream of horror. A roar of embarrassment. The great G6, Reaper of the Gemstone line, hadn't been taken out by a rival syndicate or a high-tech trap. She'd been deleted by her own careless, rookie mistake.
She could already hear her family's disdainful silence.
Morphine and alcohol. Basic contraindication.
Too much inadequacy. I disgust myself.
The Reaper hadn't been slain. She'd pathetically OD'd on her own couch.
After that, G6 malfunctioned again.
She sat silently at the tea table, staring out at the balcony view.
Tina, worried, suggested a walk in the gardens.
G6 refused with a curt shake of her head. Wandering in an unknown place? That's not a walk. It's parading naked before a battle.
She picked up the book instead. The only anchor in this psychic storm.
The book lay on the table before her.
Had the real Reise been reading this? A novel within a novel? Is the author's ghost fucking with me?
"Fuck, alright. I take it back. This book is not stupid. Fucking wake me up from this nightmare." She muttered to the ceiling.
She sighed and opened the book.
But what greeted her was not what she expected.
Because there was nothing to expect at all.
The pages she'd read were now all blank.
She turned the pages. Nothing but blank.
Then… on the first page, fresh ink gleamed suddenly.
"One rose wears borrowed red. Pluck it. Bury it.
The real one grew where gardens forget to look—between ribs, beneath floorboards, inside the pause before your next breath.
The fake rose bleeds to lure you.
The real rose already knows your name."
-Witherby, Resonance of All Seers
What the fuck is riddle wants?
Why do I sense it's trying to say I'm either fake or real?
Ugh! Who cares. Tsk.
She touched the page. The ink beneath her finger smudged. Not wet. But it smudged.
A familiar, hot pulse throbbed behind her right ear.
She snatched up a hand mirror and twisted.
There, behind her right ear. Her tattoo. A chained rose, the size of her thumb. The mark of the Reaper. Her promise. Her curse.
It burned, just as it did before a hit.
A tether. Or a brand.
She leaned her head back, closing her eyes. The exhaustion was bone-deep.
So. The book and the tattoo are mine.
Everything else is someone else's problem. Fine.
First, survive. Then, find a way to make this world wish it had never heard of Reise Worthon.
No. I will make sure this world never wishes to have me in it at all.
As the resolve hardened, darkness pulled her under.
-ˋˏ✄ - - - - - - - ♡
G6 found herself in the same room, yet it felt different.
A woman in white stood on the balcony beneath the moonlight.
Her face was devastated. Hurt. Longing. Yearning.
She looked down at the two figures in the garden below.
A tear fell down her cheek.
It felt like it would be the last.
Slowly, she retreated into her room.
It was dark.
But the small glass vial sitting on the table shone as if begging to be seen.
"This will be my last good night," she murmured, and drank the liquid.
Then she looked straight into G6's eyes.
And smiled.
Like she was welcoming her.
But.
It was a creepy one.
As if she knew… her.
ــــــــــــSNAPـــﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـ
G6 woke with a gasp, sweat cooling on her skin.
Her hands were steady. Her breath evened.
But the unsettling smile lingered.
Somehow, G6 felt mocked.
A cold, clean anger settled in her chest.
In the mirror, Reise's face looked back. But the eyes were all G6. Grey. Hard. Unforgiving.
The tattoo pulsed a steady, warning beat.
She sat in the quiet dark. Silence was her ally.
"Fine," she said, the word a vow. "You want the Wicked Rose? I'll show you thorns."
LOCKED IN.
—To Be Continued…—