I call my client to meet me up at his place: the underground warehouse. My client is a wanted criminal that the police's been looking for years. He still does his job, but pays off people to do it for him. Me, for example, pays me to take care of the people whom he wants dead. I've killed a number of people that cannot be counted by the fingers of my hands and toes. Maybe thirty or so. 

 I arrive at the underground warehouse and go straight to the main room of the warehouse. Some of his men are there, checking on their weapons, encrypting and decrypting files, and some are just standing and scattered around the warehouse. 

 Their eyes follow me as I walk in. Well, being the only girl in this warehouse, that will really attract attention. I go to this man called Mark, who's standing against the wall of the warehouse. "Hey, Mark. Where's Conor?" 

 Mark's face distorts. "You mean Jin Hyuk?" 

 I roll my eyes. "Who else do you think?" 

  "Don't roll your eyes on me, Shin Hye." 

 I raise my brows as he calls me by my real name. "You can call me by my real name here. But never mention my real name outside the warehouse, Jin Woo, I'm warning you," I mutter. "I'll literally stop your age."

 Mark scoffs. "Fine,fine. He's in his room, Courtney. Probably waiting for you."

 I smile when he mentions my english name. "Sounds better. Thank you, Mark." 

 I go to Conor's room which is on the far end of the warehouse. I knock twice, and there was a distant reply, "Come in." I twist the door knob and walk in.

 He's sitting on a comfortable office chair behind his desk, looking at the papers on his hands. He doesn't say anything so I shove my hands in my pockets and lean against the wall. "Is your job done?" he asks. 

 I look around the room. "Well, yeah. It was a kinda easy," I reply. "I wasted five bullets, though." 

 He chuckles a bit. "Encountered any weird situations?" 

 "Nope. I don't think I--" I trail off. I suddenly remember the man from earlier and feel myself shudder at the memory.

 "Well?" he demands. 

 I can't think of any answer. How will I say it? "Do you, perhaps, know any other known hired killers, aside from me?" 

 He goes silent for a while. "Uhm, yeah," he says slowly. "There's this one guy who really makes me scared. Had his first kill when he was nine and he has cold eyes, like he doesn't care who he'll kill. Who knows what he's capable of. I forgot his name, but I met him few years ago, and he scared the out of me. He's only the killer I know. Aside from you, of course." Conor puts the papers on his desk. "Why'd you ask, by the way?" 

 "I saw something weird earlier," I start. "When I started to shoot the people, everything just went chaos. Then I saw something weird through my sniper. A guy was just leaning on the cart counter, like nothing's happening around him. And he even waved at me." 

 Conor's brows pucker in a frown. "Maybe that's him," he says. "He doesn't care about anything. Doesn't care about death." He stands up and goes to the front of his desk and sits on it. "I don't know, but I think he has a dark past. Maybe something from his past made him like that, that cold, frightening and intimidating." 

 I laugh. "You're really afraid of him? Wow. I never thought you're gonna be afraid of someone," I say mockingly.

 "Oh,shut up," he snarls. "It's because you haven't met him. Maybe if you meet him, you'll agree with me." 

 I shrug my shoulders. "Maybe," I say. "I'm going to leave now. Any other orders?" 

 "None," he replies. "I'll call you if I need you. You may go now."
***
 After I leave the warehouse, I go straight to a coffee shop to buy a drink. All these works makes me sleepy, so I relax myself by drinking a little piece of heaven: coffee.  

 I sit alone on a chair outside the shop and start drinking my coffee. I look around, and then I see him--the guy from earlier, the weird guy. He walks past a man, who is busy cheking his bag on his left and not minding that his coffee is exposed. But before this guy gets past the man, he holds out an object--that somehow looks like a pen--and presses the top of it. A small liquid comes out of it and it trickles down to the coffee. He does it fast and goes straight to a booth across mine. 

 I keep my eye on him, but he's looking down at his cup of coffee. But when he looks up, our eyes meet for a moment. And I'm to one who looks away first. Conor was right; this guy really has cold eyes. Just by remembering his eyes makes me shudder. 

 "There you are," I hear the man say. He turns back to his coffee and finally takes a sip. He's busy browsing his phone when he suddenly coughs hard. He covers his mouth with a hanky as he coughs. He stands up hastily, holding his bloody hanky. But he suddenly falls down to the ground, unconscious. Everyone in the shop panic and quickly call an ambulance to help the man.

 I turn to look at the guy, but he's already walking away. I run quickly to catch up with him. When I finally catch up with him, I yank his shoulders and turn him to me. "What the did you do to that man?" I ask him angrily. 

 He looks at me with his cold eyes. "I was expecting you would ask that," he replies, and then gives me a mocking smile. "Why'd you ask? Feel sympathetic to the man? I thought killers don't have sympathy."

 My eyes widen at his words. "How'd you know that I'm--"

 "A killer?" he cuts me off. "Of course I know you're a killer. I've seen your face a few times. Remember when the senator died? I saw you at his party. You were there. And when a sudden news came out that the senator's dead, you're nowhere in sight. Wouldn't think of it as a coincidence," he says; his eyes still cold. "Just like when you killed the business man in the restaurant."

 I don't say anything. So he literally saw me that far? He continues, "I have to say, I like your tactics. Shooting other random people so the police can't identfiy the main target? Very unheard of. Well, for a girl like you." he scoffs and shoves his hands in his pockets. "Better get going. I'll see you when I see you." he turns his back at me and walks away.