In the assassin world, Jace and Noct were infamous like cockroaches.
To ordinary people, that would surely sound like a contemptuous comparison.
But to those who lived in the shadows like them, it was praise enough to make others envious.
That comparison came from the fact that both had escaped countless dangerous situations before.
If Noct relied on his beast, then for Jace, it was thanks to his eyes.
At birth, he was fortunate to possess a pair of extraordinary eyes, which had saved his life countless times.
The eyes had two main abilities.
First was the ability to see clearly in the dark.
Even in the absence of light, they somehow allowed him to observe every detail before him.
For an assassin like him, this ability gave him a remarkable advantage that others envied.
But the second ability was even more extraordinary.
It warned him of danger.
By focusing on a specific living creature, he could sense the level of threat it posed.
For example, when he looked at a rabbit, Jace could feel its danger level was extremely low, almost zero.
But today, when he looked at Tris, he immediately sensed immense danger.
An existence that, if he dared face, would surely kill him.
"No wonder the mission is worth a thousand gold. What kind of monster is this?" Jace wiped the sweat from his face.
Indeed, in this life, nothing came for free.
At that moment, Jace suspected he had encountered a powerful mage using magic to disguise themselves.
The more he thought, the more convinced he became.
It was rare for Jace to encounter such a high warning level.
Previously, it only happened when he saw old mages or generals passing by.
"Excuse me, may I ask for directions?"
Clearly, an ordinary assassin like him could never compare to such people.
Jace reminded himself of that.
With these eyes, he never worried about arrogance, for he knew how many powerful beings existed out there.
Suddenly, a pair of gloved hands waved before his face from behind.
Jace flinched in fear.
How could someone approach so close without him noticing?
Terrified, he stepped back and turned to see the figure.
The stranger was cloaked in a dark crimson robe, almost black.
It looked as if it had been dyed with dried blood.
The hood concealed the face in shadow, but Jace's eyes revealed every detail.
The suspicious figure wore a gray-white mask covering the upper half of the face.
Behind it, two crimson pupils gleamed like rubies—beautiful yet dangerous.
Seeing this, Jace froze, holding his breath.
He felt like a mouse hiding, praying the nearby cat would pass without noticing.
For the first time in his life, Jace sensed danger at such a level.
It was like standing on a battlefield drenched in blood, corpses piled high.
He understood: anyone targeted by this being could not even dream of escape.
Unfortunately, the "cat" kept staring at him.
Seeing Jace silent, the cloaked figure repeated:
"May I ask for directions?"
The voice was unnatural, impossible to tell male or female, old or young.
Jace stiffly nodded, forcing a smile.
The figure continued:
"I'm looking for a place in town that buys old goods. Do you know?"
Jace stammered:
"Yes, yes. Near the northwest corner of town, in the slums, ask anyone about Old Joe's shop—they'll point you there."
"Oh, thank you."
Pausing, the figure looked at Jace again:
"You seem to have very special eyes, don't you?"
At this, Jace's heart jolted.
His greatest secret seemed exposed.
He imagined himself tied to a table, his eyes being taken.
But unexpectedly, the cloaked figure only remarked casually, then turned and walked toward the slums.
Jace stood frozen until the red cloak vanished from sight.
Only then did he slowly, tremblingly head toward the town gates.
Once certain the red figure was gone, Jace broke into a run.
He wanted to leave—not just the town, but the entire kingdom.
He planned to flee to Braxen and never return to Eldoria.
* * * * * * * * * *
'That one seemed to be an assassin? Too bad—if he had attacked reflexively, I could have claimed self-defense, right?' thought the figure in the crimson cloak as they walked.
'And then confiscate the eyes as evidence, correct?' a feminine voice echoed in their mind.
It was soft, pleasant, and youthful.
'That seems like some kind of sensory magic eye, doesn't it? Quite impressive.'
'Ask your father, how should I know?' the feminine voice replied, unexpectedly coarse despite its gentle tone.
'White, do you know?'
As they asked, the figure transmitted the image they had seen earlier.
Another voice answered:
'With just this little information, how could I know? If you were curious, why didn't you ask him directly?' This time, it was a young male voice.
'First time meeting someone and you go asking for the key to their damn safe? I'm not that clueless, you know. But why the hell male?'
'Your father isn't male, then female?' the female voice teased.
'Black, you know I wasn't asking that.'
'Children should go to bed early,' the male voice replied lazily.
'Damn it, it's barely dawn here,' the figure snapped.
'I often sleep only after hearing the rooster crow. So staying awake until sunrise isn't healthy—go sleep.' The male voice answered lazily.
'Stop changing the subject. Why male?'
'Guess.'
'Guess your mother!'
'Close enough—it is your mother,' the male voice chuckled.
'F*ck you!'
'Do you want to play threesome or what?' the female voice teased.
'Get lost.'
The cloaked figure, of course, knew exactly what those shameless voices were implying.
Perhaps one day they would suddenly have a younger brother or sister.
'So the daughter hits puberty and starts rebelling against her parents, huh? Careful—lose your temper, and you'll break out in pimples,' the female voice sighed with mock concern.
The figure in the crimson cloak—no, she—silently sent back the image of a raised middle finger to the two voices, then cut off the connection.
She regretted wasting time, continuing her walk with a mood both irritated and amused.