People know her as Wendy. Wendy The Bar Singer. Wendy The Stripper. Wendy The Barista.

Having an alias felt cool in the beginning, she must admit, she felt like a whole new person, she constantly feels like a whole new person, her past was in her hands, so was her present, and it felt like the most wonderful gift anyone could have given her.

Her past was erased in two months, and her work as hitwoman got increasingly difficult, increasingly exciting. Wendy has a dead family, a dysfunctional family, a picture perfect family. Wendy knows how to dance. Wendy knows how to sing. Wendy can do anything a human can, Wendy is as free as a bird. Wendy likes boys, guys, men , whatever they’re called. Wendy is a freak, Wendy likes celibacy.

Watching her next target buy groceries gives her system a shock. Her target, Park Sooyoung, is a mess -- a royal mess. Her own family, the royal family, has hired Wendy to kill her. Park Sooyoung, the black sheep of the royal family.

Wendy watches Sooyoung bend over the frozen foods, reaching for the farthest chicken packet. She could’ve just walked over to the other side , Wendy thinks.

That’s a cute . Someone else in her whispers. Someone she’s shut down for so many years. Someone who is soft, someone who likes romantic dates with flowers and candles, someone who wants a cabin in the woods, a wife, and two children. Someone who’s too weak for the world.

Wendy walks to Sooyoung, a perfectly charming smile on her face. “Hey babe.”

“Hi,” Sooyoung rests her elbow on the closed lid of the freezer, smiles beautifully at her. “I got chicken for tonight. Sounds good?”

“Good.” Seungwan nods. “I haven’t had chicken i