The checkpoint lights flooded the car in blue and white.
A police officer approached the driver's window.
The driver slid the glass down slowly.
"Can I see your face, please?"
"Sure, sir."
The driver smiled openly.
The officer checked his ID against the tablet screen. Nodded.
"Are you carrying customers right now?"
"Yes, sir."
"I'll need to check them."
Two officers stepped to either side of the back seat.
The window beside Clare slid down.
"Ma'am, may I see your face? Please cooperate."
Clare kept her head slightly lowered.
"Ma'am."
Her fingers tightened into a fist.
Slowly,she looked up.
The wig, the altered brows, the makeup, the strategically drawn birthmark near her jaw it changed her completely.
The officer glanced at his screen.
Back at her.
Again.
Two seconds.
Three.
Clare's voice was calm.
"Is everything okay, officer?"
"Yes, ma'am. Sorry for the trouble."
On the other side,
"Sir, please cooperate."
Kal slowly removed his cap.
Long green hair tied back.
Face markings inked along his cheekbones.
Not even close to his real appearance.
The officer barely compared it to the photo.
"Alright. You're clear."
The windows slid up.
The car rolled forward.
Kal exhaled,and then,Clare's body slumped sideways.
Her head hit the glass with a dull thud.
The driver glanced into the rear-view mirror.
"What happened?"
Kal turned,and froze.
The disguise on his face flickered.
The tattoos vanished .
The green hair dissolved.
Black strands reflected clearly in the mirror.
Kal quickly pulled his cap back on.
But the driver had seen something.
"Hey… your hair… I think it changed?"
Kal's pulse spiked.
Sweat gathered at his temple.
"Fuck," he muttered under his breath.
He pulled Clare onto his lap.
Pressed his ear against her chest.
Her skin burned.
"Oh my God," he said urgently, voice rising. "She has a high fever. Her heartbeat's weakening. Please, faster!"
"What?"
The driver's gaze snapped to Clare. She was breathing hard, her body still, unresponsive.
The driver stiffened.
"Yes, sir! Hold tight!"
The car accelerated.
Streetlights blurred past.
When they reached a quiet drop-off near their base,
Kal shoved cash forward.
"I don't have change," the driver said.
"Keep it."
Kal lifted Clare into his arms and ran.
From the parking lot,toward the hospital entrance.
Bright emergency lights just ahead.
He had no other option.
Ten meters away,Clare stirred.
Her fingers tightened weakly against his dress.
Kal's eyes widened.
"You're awake? Hang on, Miss. We're almost at the hospital."
"Don't."
Her voice was faint.
But firm.
Kal slowed.
"What?"
"Don't."
His mind rejected the word immediately.
" Miss Clare, you're burning up."
"Our identity… will be exposed."
He stopped between two parked cars.
The emergency entrance visible just ahead.
Nurses moving inside.
Automatic doors sliding open and shut.
"But your health..."
Her hand gripped his collar.
Stronger than it should've been.
"Kal."
Her eyes opened halfway.
Clouded.
"Do you trust me?"
His throat tightened.
"Yes."
"Then listen."
She forced herself upright slightly, breath uneven.
"This is the drawback."
His heart sank.
"How bad?"
"This… is the drawback of using my ability this way," she whispered, her voice rough, breath hot against his neck. "After some rest… I'll regain my strength. My sight too. Please… believe me."
Kal clenched his teeth. His jaw flexed.
"…Can you grab my back?" he asked quietly. "I know it sounds embarrassing, but it'll be easier to carry you that way."
She gave the faintest nod.
He crouched.
Her arms slid weakly around his shoulders.
The street ahead was half-lit, half-rotten.
Drunk boys staggered. Girls leaned into their men, giggling.
One woman, barely able to stand, pointed at Kal carrying Clare on his back.
"Carry me like that," she laughed lazily. "Let's go to a motel…"
A few people chuckled.
But as Kal walked deeper into the darker cut of the road ,where cameras didn't quite reach , the laughter thinned.
Then vanished.
Their area felt different.
From one apartment, a woman's scream burst out , followed by the heavy sound of something striking flesh.
From somewhere else, loud male laughter.
Up in the higher floors of the abandoned block, silhouettes pressed against cracked glass windows.
Kal didn't look up.
He adjusted his grip and walked straight to their door.
The hallway light flickered when he switched it on , buzzing weakly like it might die any second.
He exhaled slowly.
He pushed open Clare's room.
And paused.
He hadn't seen it before.
The walls were stained and bare except for numbers written in some substance.
Up to 23.
Every single one crossed out.
A board hung opposite the bed , photographs pinned carefully, lines connecting faces.
Targets.
Her bed had no mattress.
Just a steel frame.
Just like his.
He gently lowered her down,
The metal touched her back.
She cried out sharply.
Kal flinched.
"Damn it..."
He ran to his room.
Came back with his stained jacket. His torn shirt. Even his worn pants.
He laid them across the steel frame to soften it.
Then he removed his thick outer layer, leaving only a thin shirt on himself, and placed the heavier clothing over her like a blanket.
He pressed his palm to her forehead.
Burning.
"How did you survive like this… alone…" he muttered.
He tore a clean strip from what remained of his shirt.
From the tap in the bathroom, he managed to collect some water , it sputtered, brown at first, then clearer.
He found an old metal bowl.
Filled it.
He returned.
Carefully, respectfully, he took out her outer clothing . He dipped the cloth into the water, wrung it out, and began wiping her forehead, neck, arms.
Cooling the pulse points.
Forehead.
Underarms.
Wrists.
Back of the neck.
He repeated it steadily.
Not rushed.
Not panicked.
After several minutes, he checked again.
The heat had lowered slightly.
Her breathing eased.
She instinctively curled into the thick jacket, pulling it close for warmth now that the fever was dipping.
Kal let out a long sigh.
Good.
He went to the kitchen.
If it could be called that.
The fridge door hung crooked. It barely worked, but inside were leftovers ,rice hardened at the edges, half an onion, two eggs, and something that might once have been vegetables.
He stared at it.
"…Gourmet dinner," he muttered dryly.
He cracked the eggs into a dented pan.
Used a little oil scraped from the last of a bottle.
Fried the rice with chopped onion and whatever vegetables survived.
The gas flame flickered weakly.
He added salt from a folded newspaper packet.
Tasted it.
"…Not bad," he said with mild surprise.
He scooped it into a bowl and returned.
Clare's vision was improving slightly.
But to her,
Kal was just a blurred silhouette.
A shape holding something.
"Here," he said softly. "Eat."
He handed her the bowl.
She tried to sit.
Her body swayed forward.
Kal immediately caught her with one arm, pulling her gently against him for support.
"…Careful."
He sat behind her, letting her lean against his chest.
He lifted the spoon.
Brought it toward her lips.
Her mouth closed instinctively before the spoon touched.
He paused.
Waited.
Then she adjusted slightly , and this time took the bite properly.
Slow.
Careful.
He continued feeding her like that.
Each time her coordination improved a little.
Kal watched closely.
"Her vision's returning."
"There has to be a condition for her ability… just like Nina."
He glanced at the crossed-out numbers on the wall.
"But she won't reveal it. An assassin never reveals their condition."
After she finished enough to regain some strength, he laid her back down gently.
He went to wash himself.
The water from the tap was warm and inconsistent, but he managed.
Afterward, he ate quickly.
Then returned.
He sat beside her bed.
The flickering hallway light leaked through the half-open door.
She could see him slightly clearer now.
Still blurred.
But closer to shape.
Closer to human.
He leaned back against the wall.
Silent.
Watching her breathe steadily.
For the first time since the checkpoint,he allowed himself to relax.
the room was quiet.
Her breathing was steady.
The flickering hallway light buzzed like a dying insect.
And suddenly,
His mind wasn't here anymore.
Shee saw her little brother.
Small hands clutching the bedsheet.
Breathing heavily during those long nights when fever would take over him.
Seraphina would sit beside him just like this.
Holding his tiny fingers.
Whispering, "I'm here."
Sometimes hugging him.
Sometimes pressing soft kisses on his forehead.
His left eye stung.
A tear slipped out.
He wiped it quickly.
"Please be safe…" he whispered under his breath. "I'm coming. I'm coming for you."
The clock ticked.
1:00 AM.
"Kal."
Her voice cut through the silence.
Stronger now , but not fully steady.
He immediately leaned forward and grabbed her arm gently.
"What happened?"
"Check the video," she said. "If she really caught the cheater… transfer it to another drive. It's in the drawer. Put it in an envelope. Leave it inside the broken church in the east."
She paused to breathe.
"But before placing it , check if anyone is watching. If you see anything suspicious… ability user or not… return immediately."
She handed him his clothes.
"Quick."
In his room, Kal activated the watch.
"Doesn't she have a bigger screen… this is impossible to see," he muttered.
The watch screen flickered.
Then expanded.
A thin blue holographic display unfolded into the air.
Kal blinked.
"…Okay. That's impressive."
He let out a quiet sigh-laugh.
Then he saw the footage.
A woman.
Completely undressed.
Locked with a man.
The man had short hair , not shaved , and a trimmed beard. His face looked soft. Almost innocent.
But what he was doing didn't match that image.
Kal tilted his head.
"Guess someone's getting a divorce."
He transferred the footage to a small drive.
Sealed it in an envelope.
Outside, the eastern side of the district was colder.
The church stood as a dividing mark , beyond it, modern city lights. Behind it, decay.
Half the walls were broken.
Behind it loomed an abandoned apartment complex like a corpse watching over ruins.
Kal adjusted his cap and walked calmly.
Hands in pockets.
He wasn't shaking anymore.
After the club incident… something inside him had settled.
His heart beat steady.
Adapted.
Before approaching the church, he changed direction and entered the abandoned apartment.
Climbed the stairs carefully.
The watch's light guided him.
Dust.
Broken railings.
Wind howling through empty windows.
He reached a floor slightly higher than the church roof.
From there,he saw it.
A black car parked between the clean city road and the church ruins.
No one outside.
"Should I just walk up and hand it over?" he muttered.
He gave a dry smile.
"I must be an idiot for even thinking that."
He climbed down.
Scaled the broken church wall silently.
Entered.
Placed the envelope near the altar ruins.
Then, before leaving,
He picked up a stone.
Threw it toward the car.
Inside the car, a middle-aged man tapped the steering wheel impatiently.
A faint, distorted voice echoed inside the vehicle.
Not from the radio.
Not from a phone.
Something else.
"We should return," the AI said quietly. "Your life may be in danger. There is no security detail with you."
"I can't."
"Nothing must happen to you. You are the chief architect of this city , its mind behind every bridge, school, and tower."
He gave no reply.
The stone hit the window.
Thud.
The voice sharpened.
"Movement confirmed. Caution."
The man adjusted his glasses.
"Relax," he murmured calmly. "If someone wanted me dead, I wouldn't hear the warning first."
"Arrogance increases mortality," the voice replied coldly.
The man stepped out of the car.
Hand inside his coat pocket.
Eyes scanning left.
Right.
Slow steps toward the church.
Inside,he found the envelope.
He picked it up.
Slid it into his inner pocket.
Returned to the car without haste.
Drove away.
His house was beautiful.
Large.
Surrounded by trimmed gardens and warm exterior lights.
A different world from the ruins.
The woman from the video opened the door.
Wearing an alluring dress.
"I was waiting for you, darling."
He smiled faintly.
She leaned in for a kiss.
He gently turned his face away.
"I'm a bit tired."
She pouted softly, then smiled. "That's fine, dear."
He walked past her.
Entered another room.
Closed the door.
Inside that room,a large framed photograph hung on the wall.
Two men standing side by side in front of microphones.
One , the "innocent" man from the video.
The other , him.
Below the frame, a polished brass plate read:
"For the mind that shapes the city's future, and the voice that guides its direction."
The man stared at it.
Long.
Quiet.
His fingers tapped lightly over the envelope in his pocket.
In the photograph,
The other man stood slightly forward.
Bathed in public admiration.
While he,stood half a step behind.
Watching.
Always watching.