Luhan idly twirled the knife between his fingers, watching the dim light of the hallway flash off the blade. It was easy. Twirling the knife without getting cut. It was almost an instinctive gesture when he found himself with a dagger in his hand. The regular rotations and gleams of light were soothing and helped calm his mind. He understood knives. In combat, ing a knife towards an opponent was much like throwing a punch. Knives were an extension of his hand, not just a tool but also a friend. So why, then, did they betray him?

He stood. Even with the faint light through the window on the other side of the room, he could read the clock. It was time.

Luhan made his way from the combat room down the concrete hallway and across the complex. It was an hour past midnight, no one in his class would be up. It was precisely this reason his father had scheduled their meeting at this time.

The narrow metal staircase was located at the corner of the compound behind a non-descript door. He entered the passcode on the number pad, and the door silently swung open. His father's office was somewhere within the labyrinth of the bank, but he found it easily enough. He didn't bother knocking, he was always on time, and his father would have seen him on the security footage anyway.

Sure enough, before his fingers even reached the door handle, his father's voice came through the door. "Come in, Luhan."

Luhan slipped through the doorway and sat down in the chair before his father's thick wooden desk. The door swung shut behind him.

"Why can't you hit a target?"

That was his father, ever blunt. Luhan shrugged, flipping the knife back and forth between his hands. He wouldn't expect his father to understand if he tried to explain it; he didn't even fully understand it himself. All he knew was that he didn't understand guns. He understood knives. But when he stood before a target... guns, knives, it was all the same.

"You're proficient with a knife, evidently, but not all targets – very few actually – will warrant hand-to-hand combat. It is imperative that you learn to take them out from long range," his father continued.

Luhan nodded, keeping his gaze on the knife he held. The weapon had a comforting weight in his hand and sat squarely in the embrace of his fingers. It never felt right to let it go.

His father stood suddenly. "Come, I want to show you something."

Luhan followed him out of the office and down a short section of the hallway to an unmarked door. It opened to a dark room with a wide window that took up the entirety of a wall. Through the window, Luhan could see that most of the other room was dedicated to a large gun range, and there was a familiar sparring ring off to the side. There was someone at the end of the gun range with a rifle to the shoulder, ear-protecting headphones on securely, back facing the window.

"This is a one-way window," his father explained. "I'm sure you recognize this trainee." He paused, and the two of them watched as the boy let out a shot.

Luhan nodded. He knew who it was. Oh Sehun was in his class, had been for as long as he could remember. At this distance, Luhan couldn't see how good the shot was, but his father tapped a button on a keyboard and a small screen in the center of the window lit up with a close-up camera view of the target. It was unmarked.

"He's not doing very well." His father clicked his tongue.

"He'll get better though," Luhan said.

His father raised an eyebrow at him. "Is that what you think?"

Luhan nodded. "He just needs more training. All the graduated assassins shoot well."

His father scoffed. "And why do you think that is?" he asked.

"Because we train them," Luhan said, confused.

"We do train them," his father acknowledged. "But only those with the potential to be trained." And with that, he handed Luhan a rifle identical to the one Sehun was using. "It's about time you learned how to properly use a gun." He opened a small section of the wall and gestured towards it.

Luhan didn't move. "What do you mean?"

His father maneuvered him before the rectangular hole in the wall. "There's your target. Shoot."

"From here? The target's too far away, I've never shot from this far."

"The boy's barely fifteen yards away," his father said. "You can't possibly miss from there."

Luhan's eyes grew wide with shock. "Se... Sehun?"

"No." His father's voice was harsh. "He's your target now."

Luhan just stared up at his father with wide eyes, speechless.

Frustrated, his father grabbed the rifle from Luhan, stuck the tip through the hole in the wall, sighted and aimed in a split second, and shot.

Sehun fell to the ground, clutching his midriff. He groaned loudly, and Luhan flinched at the noise. His father had been an assassin of the Order before he retired, and his skills had by no means deteriorated. There was only one reason Sehun wasn't dead. His father hadn't meant for the shot to kill instantly, although Luhan could tell it was fatal.

His father shoved the rifle back into Luhan's hands. "Finish the job."

Luhan could feel the cold metal of the rifle in his hands. He could hear Sehun's cries of pain, magnified by the knowledge that there was nothing he could do to help a fellow trainee. Mechanically, he discarded the empty cartridge and reloaded a new one. Sehun was clenching his palm tightly against the wound as he tried to stand up to make his way to the door. But the bullet had ruptured several internal organs. If the blood loss didn't kill him soon, infection would later.

Luhan slipped the rifle through the small hole in the wall, aware that every moment he hesitated would be another moment of pain for Sehun. He took a deep breath, exhaled halfway, and fired.

It was the first shot he'd ever made, but not the last by far.

Despite his improvements in the coming years, Luhan was a frequent executioner of the failed trainees. His hand-to-hand combat progressed smoothly, and although his aim became near perfect, he held a hatred for long-distance weapons that grew with every target he eliminated.

Luhan found himself ruminating on his situation more and more during classes. He was enjoying hand-to-hand sparring less and less, especially since his skill had progressed so far that his opponents would be no match for him at all.

He stood at the edge of the sparring ring with a stoic expression, watching Zitao pummel a younger trainee in Joonmyun's class. Yixing – Luhan knew his name like he knew the name of every trainee at the Order – was not up to par with close combat. Even though he was expected to lose against Zitao, he wasn't at the level he should be in that class. Luhan doubted he'd get a chance to try shooting.

"That's good," Joonmyun said.

Zitao retreated from the ring as Joonmyun walked closer to check Yixing's injuries.

"Not much better than last time," he said.

Luhan watched as Yixing visibly deflated and then gave a weak but sincere smile when Joonmyun noted he'd lasted longer. He probably thought he was special, chosen by the Order to become an elite assassin. It couldn't have been further from the truth. The Order took in as many kids as they could get their hands on, trained those who were able to be trained, and discarded the rest. And somehow Luhan had been put in charge of taking out the trash.

Yixing got out of the ring and Jongin took his place. Luhan went to stand before him, retaining his cool demeanor as Jongin gave him a defiant glare. He wouldn't make the first move.

It didn't take long for Jongin to lunge forwards. Luhan instinctively ducked into his reach, knocked his arm to the side, and his palm into Jongin's chin. The kid fell, unconscious.

"Well," Joonmyun said, "I'm not quite sure he's assassin material." He looked at Luhan. "Should we give him another chance?"

Luhan shrugged, flexing his right wrist. He had too much pent-up anger these days to take out on the younger trainees. "I may have gone too hard on him."

"One more chance then." Joonmyun paused. "Class dismissed for tonight. Get some rest, kids. Luhan, Yixing, take Jongin to Minseok. Yixing, don't forget to ask him to take a look at you too."

Luhan and Yixing carried Jongin between them to Minseok's infirmary. After setting him down on the only cot in the small room, Luhan retreated to the doorway as Minseok checked Yixing. The kid was unnaturally cheerful after having been beat up by Zitao. Luhan knew the bruises hurt, but Yixing hadn't shirked from carrying half of Jongin's weight.

But his skill in hand-to-hand combat wouldn't translate to the potential to be an assassin of the Order.

Luhan watched as Minseok gave Yixing a bag of ice and sent them away. As he went through the doorway holding the bag of ice against his eye, Yixing stumbled. Luhan immediately reached out an arm to steady him. And in a split second, in that moment, he made a decision.

"Hey," he said in a soft whisper, stopping Yixing before they could part to their separate dorms. "Meet me in the combat room in two hours." And without waiting for a reply, he left.

Two hours later, Luhan slid into the combat room and stood in the center of the room, waiting. He didn't know what he would do if the kid decided to show up. What did he think he could do? Teach him hand-to-hand combat? He was no instructor. He was an executioner. But he resolved that he wouldn't be anymore. At least not Yixing's, if he came.

And he did come. Luhan heard the footsteps before he saw Yixing's shadow at the door.

The moment the door opened, Luhan swung a fist towards Yixing's face, pulling the punch at the last second. Yixing didn't even try to dodge, just closed his eyes and stood there.

"You're too slow," Luhan said. He pulled Yixing into the room and shut the door with a light click. Then he began sparring, pulling each blow at the last second.

"What are you doing?" Yixing asked, desperately backing away.

Luhan responded by attacking faster.

Yixing stopped retreating and began sparring defensively. He was clearly struggling, and soon Luhan decided to go easier on him. Zitao had already beaten him to a pulp earlier in the day, and it wasn't his intention to make this a second beating.

This was more at his level, and Yixing began to spar more offensively, hitting with actual force since he likely didn't know how to pull his punches. They fought into the back side of the room, and eventually Luhan signaled the end of the sparring session by sinking a fist into Yixing's ribs at full strength.

Yixing stumbled backwards. "Did you want me to come so you could beat me up?" He hacked up the words, struggling to get up on his feet.

Before he could stand, Luhan sat down on the floor beside him. "No." He paused. "I wanted you to come so I could teach you."

Yixing looked up in surprise. "Teach me?"

Luhan nodded.

"Why?" Yixing asked, trying to read his expression

"Because..." Luhan thought for a moment, contemplating the true answer to the simple question. "I like you the most out of your class, and I think you have the most potential."

Yixing furrowed his eyebrows.

Luhan smiled. "It's technically not against the rules." He got up and offered a hand to Yixing. "Meet me here same time tomorrow?"

Yixing nodded, and Luhan left.