[Jiyong POV]

“I’m going out.”

Echo and Cross turned their heads in my direction after I said those words. I was already halfway out the door when I heard Echo say, “Mr. X told us to lie low, not go out.”

I let out a dry chuckle and said, “I won’t be doing anything. I’ll just roam around the city.”

“You’ve been going out everyday since last month,” Cross pointed out. I closed the door behind me and headed outside, smiling to myself.

It was a sunny day, perfect for a stroll. It was one of those days where I could bask in the sunlight without worrying about anything. I parked my car on one of the empty parking spaces and headed to a little blue store in the corner. I took one look inside the shop and smiled as I saw her.

Dara Park.

I feel strange just saying her name.

She has something special that no one else could touch.

The first time I saw her…it was after my 47^th solo kill.

Unlike operations I had with a group, I kept counting with unaccompanied jobs. I don’t know the reason why, but I still kept tabs on how many slays I already did.

I think my conscience has not died completely.

I was hiding in the same villa. The house is situated on a district outside of Seoul, and except for a few houses here and there, we were pretty isolated. I was looking out the meadow one morning when I saw her.

She was bending over the creek, her stomach flat on the bank and was trying to reach for something. I smiled as I realized what she was trying to get. It was one of Cross’s plants—clumps of lavender he brought home from an operation in Eastern Europe. Cross deliberately placed those plants near the creek so that it would be away from people who would try to get it. It was a paranoid move from him, but I guess there were still people who would actually do it.

Like her.

She actually reminded me of the story Rapunzel, the farmer who sneaked to get lettuce from the witch’s garden just to pacify his pregnant wife. My smile turned into a grin at the way I compared her to the farmer. It was pretty close though. I knew Cross would go ballistic once he discovers someone got his beloved plant.

Her efforts paid off and she managed to get a few without falling into the water.  She let out an elated smile, smelled the fragrant herb and left afterwards on her bicycle. I went to where she was moments ago and saw a camera lying on the ground.

Curious, I picked it up and browsed through the pictures. The pictures were randomly taken—mostly landscapes and people—but she definitely had an eye for photography. My fingers stopped pressing the scroll button when I saw her picture.

Her picture.

The photo was taken during the sunset and her milky white complexion reflected the swirl of colors the sun’s rays created. Her thin lips were curved in a half-smile and it made me wonder what she saw while the image was being taken.

The camera was from the latest released line of Nikon DSLRs so it boggled my mind how her picture could look so antiquated. A smile appeared on my face as the reason dawned on me; it was not the camera.

It was her expression.

She has a pretty face, prettier than most of the beautiful girls I have seen. But it was her expression that caught my eye. There was something nostalgic on the way she turned those cat-like eyes on the camera. Heck, she wasn’t even looking. But the intensity was there and no super model could ever imitate that.

The moment I saw her expression, I already knew that it won’t be the last time I would want to see her. There was something about her that stirred something inside me. She made me feel the emotion I dread more than guilt.

Love.

Echo has a database that collated information about a person’s profile, no matter how miniscule the details are and I could have used it to know more about her.

I didn’t.

As much as I wanted to understand everything about her, I wanted her to stay a mystery. And yes, I felt like digging into her past would make me more involved.

Still, I had to know her name and address to bring her camera back, don’t I?

I continued to scan the pictures saved on her camera, hoping to find one that at least showed her house. I figured that she must be living somewhere near, basing from the bicycle I saw her use. I was in luck. A photo showed her standing in front of a house with an elderly man. I recognized the house; it was a country house a little farther from the villa.

I went there only to find the house empty.

“They just left for the city,” a neighbor explained when I asked him they could be. “Why?”

“Ah, the girl left her camera in the meadow. I just want to return it,” I said, giving him my most convincing smile.

He chuckled and said, “That’s Park-ahjussi’s granddaughter, Dara. Aigoo, that girl has always been so forgetful, leaving her things everywhere.”

I left after the neighbor gave me the address, thinking how the name Dara suited the girl well. Hearing her name for the first time made me more curious about her. How could a simple name have that effect on me, I’d never know. Her face kept popping on my mind and I never got any sleep that night.

Maybe if I give back the camera, I would finally be at ease, I thought to myself.

I thought wrong.

I returned the camera to the shop but didn’t let her see me. I stayed hidden behind on a post across the street. From there, I saw her go out. As soon as she saw the camera hanging on the handle of the shop’s door, her face broke into a huge smile.

That smile caught me hook, line and sinker.

Every time I wanted to see her, I just delivered flowers, clusters of the lavender planted on a small ceramic pot. Every morning, just like clockwork, I would stop by that blue shop and leave a pot in front. At first, I thought it would creep her out, but she started expecting them.

One time, she actually waited for me to come. I asked a little girl to deliver it for me and I watched from across the street. She looked disappointed when she received the pot from the girl and scanned the busy place, maybe hoping to see me. I hid. I felt like a coward, but it was for her own sake. She doesn’t deserve to see a killer like me.

I started growing the flowers myself. I remember my father telling me that mud absorbs the smell of gunpowder and the scent of the flower that grew from the mud can change a person.

It did.

I took my usual post and saw her inside the store. Holding the pot on one hand, I quickly dashed across the street, careful not to attract any attention on my part and left the flower in front of the store. I saw her go out of the door, a smile plastered on her face.

I left after she went inside, taking the small urn with her. Like everyday, my short moment of elation stops when I see her. I have to go back to my own reality after that.

I went back to the villa, cherishing that brief encounter with her, breathing in the remaining fragrance of the lavender. I thought of my little garden behind the house. For the short moment I’m planting flowers, I forget the smell of gunpowder. But not every flower could make me forget that distinct scent.

As soon as I entered the house, I saw it. Black tulips were placed on the foyer of the villa. It only meant one thing—work. Someone needed help to eliminate somebody.

How I wish I could have met her before I committed my first kill.

Because maybe then, my fate could have turned otherwise.

And I would have not turned into something despicable.