[CONTENTID1]Chapter 11[/CONTENTID1]

[CONTENTID2]            Sehun dashes across the street, his intense grey eyes darting around the area faster than the speed of light. Careful of avoiding the streetlights, the assassin races to dark, blind spots, hoping the cloak of night concealed his presence from both the neighborhood cameras and any human eyes. 

            His target was near here, he can feel it. Readjusting his skull mask, Sehun growls victoriously when he hears a small whimper twenty feet away. His eyes adjusted to the dark, showing the person clearly. 

            It was a woman in her early twenties. Yoo Sujin. She was crouched behind a car, and trembling all over.  

            Normal people would not have seen her due to the pitch-black sky. Normal people are not Sehun. 

            Eyes lighting up, the teenage boy slows his pace, but is still as quiet as a snake. Reaching for his butterfly dagger, Sehun saunters to his prey arrogantly. Ten steps away. Five. Three. He was directly behind her. Raising his dagger, Sehun moves to bring it down, but falters when she turns around. 

            Tan skin. Plush lips. Short brown hair. 

            She resembled Kim Kai.  

            Yoo Sujin's terrified eyes widen, the whites of her eyes even more visible. She opens in a soundless scream, waking Sehun up from his cloudy mind, as he grits his teeth and forces a sadistic gleam in the few parts of his face that was shown through the mask. 

            "Skull Reaper. Nice to meet you," the assassin greets monotonously. "Any last words?" Sehun his head robotically, a bit confused on why he doesn't feel the adrenaline rush he was accustomed to whenever he was about to make a kill. 

            Whatever. It doesn't matter. Today must be his off day, is all.  

            Stomping down the small part of his mind that whispers meekly to him, 'she looks like him', Sehun throws his dagger down with a tremendous force.  

            The deadly blade hits the middle of , cutting her life thread within milliseconds. Mission accomplished. 

            And yet, he can't get their uncanny resemblance out of his head. 

            "Starting today, we'll begin your training," Chanyeol paces around, scrutinizing them all warily. "All of our agents need to be as fit as possible to be put on missions. Think of this more as a test. Looking at your scores and aptitude, we will see which roles to put you in on missions. That being said, try your best and you'll be fine. Jongdae and I will watch you from the sidelines. Another very special guest will be there with us, so be on your best behavior. That is all. Boys, meet your training instructor, Choi Siwon." He moves out of the way to reveal a tall, buff man with a handsome face. 

            However, even the gorgeous face of his didn't mask the horrors he'd been through—scars, all jagged, some old and deep, some young and shallow, decorating his face and parts of his body not covered by his workout clothes. Choi Siwon has been through a lot, and his injuries were the words to his unwritten story. 

            "Listen up, recruits," Siwon growls. He stares at them unnervingly, looking for any signs of weakness. "I am your instructor, so I expect you to give me the utmost respect. I won't be as laid back as your recruiters—you brats will all address me as Sir, and Sir only. Anything else will not be tolerated. Is that clear?" He waits for their nods before continuing, "Good. Your first activity will be simple: run as many laps around that track over there without fainting. I will be recording your results, to see what I need to work with first. Now, GO!" 

            He barks at them, pointing to the nearby track field. Jongin gulps, running as fast as he could to the field. This was a man he didn't want to annoy, that's for sure. Going as fast as his legs could take him, he was mindful of the other three running next to him. Out of the corners of his eyes, he sees that Chanyeol had gone away, but doesn't dare to lower his guard. He knew the tall adult was watching him from somewhere else, with the special guest he had mentioned before. Gritting his teeth, the tan male keeps going. 

            One lap turns into two. Then, three, and four. By the fifteenth lap, Kai was sweating through his clothes and desperately needed water. He felt like he was trudging through the desert, slowly dying from the intense heat and fatigue. The floor was wet with sweat, from him and the other boys. The teenage boy moves his damp bangs out of his eyes, trying to ignore his dry, cracked throat. 

            But he couldn't stop.  

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