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"Hello," Wesley said cautiously. "You are...?"
"I'm your father's guide," Morin replied. "A Templar of the Templar Order. My name is Morin."
He looked at Wesley.
"Are you interested in passing the torch?"
"Huh?" Wesley froze.
"Let's talk about that later," Carlos said with a dark expression. He was clearly unhappy with Morin's sudden improvisation, which hadn't been part of the plan. "We need to get out of here first."
My son just entered this world.
Can't you give him a little time to adjust before forcing him to make a decision...
As Carlos thought about it, guilt crept in.
He knew very well that he had only learned the truth about the Assassin's Guild and successfully reunited with Wesley because of Morin.
And rationally speaking, Wesley joining the Templar Order was the best possible outcome.
But...
Maybe it was a father's instinct.
Even though Carlos knew this was unavoidable, and even though he knew he wasn't being objective, he still couldn't be fully rational when it came to his son.
He was bound to favor Wesley.
"You're right," Morin nodded. "Let's leave first. We can talk properly once we reach the safehouse."
Carlos quickly gathered the things he had already packed, and the three of them left the area. Wesley didn't object.
He knew he probably wouldn't be coming back for a long time.
But when he thought about it-
What was there to take?
A bank card with almost no savings?
Clothes he'd worn for years, washed until they'd lost their shape?
A girlfriend who was sleeping with his "best friend"?
A soul-crushing job with a laughably low salary?
A fat boss who constantly made his life miserable?
One by one, these things flashed through Wesley's mind, then were discarded without hesitation.
Looking back on more than twenty years of life, there was almost nothing worth keeping.
And yet, in just one night, he had gained many things of real value.
A dreamlike experience.
His first kidnapping.
His first time witnessing a real life-and-death gunfight.
A father who had been watching over him all along, even if it wasn't in the way he'd wanted.
A miraculous bloodline that allowed him to see the trajectories of bullets and react to them-
Something he had once thought was an anxiety disorder, to the point of taking medication to suppress it.
A mysterious organization called the Templar Order.
And enemies belonging to another organization, the Fraternity of Assassins.
All of it filled Wesley with novelty, shock, and disbelief.
Overnight, he had abandoned his old life.
He was stepping into a new one.
Completely different.
Exciting.
And wonderful.
"So our enemies are those assassins?" Wesley asked curiously.
He was brimming with energy now.
Morin glanced at Carlos, whose face looked a little dark, then chuckled.
"Yes."
They were in a car.
And the driver was Carlos.
Morin had wanted to drive, but Carlos had flatly refused.
Earlier, when Morin had flown over from the New York Continental Hotel, Carlos had gone to pick him up.
Morin noticed that Carlos's car looked pretty decent.
So, feeling a sudden urge, he'd shown Carlos a "magic trick" of producing a key out of thin air.
While Carlos was still staring in disbelief, Morin had dragged him into the passenger seat and taken him on what he called a "comfortable city tour."
After that...
Carlos had been forced to activate his assassin bloodline just to barely suppress the dizziness and urge to vomit.
From that moment on, Carlos had made one firm decision.
Under absolutely no circumstances would he ever let Morin drive again while he was in the car.
He seriously suspected that if it had been a classic car, Morin's driving style would have caused it to fall apart halfway down the road.
"But..." Wesley hesitated and looked at Carlos. "...Um... My... father. Isn't he also an assassin?"
The word father came out awkwardly, but he still said it.
Carlos's hand trembled slightly, and the car swerved.
Wesley had called him that during the rescue as well.
But for Carlos, who had watched Wesley grow up for so many years without ever hearing that word-
Once was nowhere near enough.
"How about I drive?" Morin said, sensing the situation. He sounded very concerned about Carlos's driving skills and eager to demonstrate his abilities as a so-called racing god.
"I would rather die," Carlos said seriously. "Or die outside the car. Or jump out right now. Than ever get into a car you're driving again."
Morin sucked in a sharp breath.
"Even odd?" he muttered in Chinese.
The car went silent.
Carlos and Wesley both looked at him, completely confused.
Seeing their expressions, Morin finally relaxed. "It's nothing. Just a special code word. You don't need to worry about it."
"A code word?" Wesley asked. "What's it for?"
"It belongs to another organization," Morin said solemnly. "Remember this. You must never use it."
"If someone outside that organization uses the code word, they'll lose everything. In serious cases, they'll be completely annihilated."
"What kind of organization is that?" Wesley shrank back. "That sounds terrifying."
"That's a long story," Morin said with feeling. "They're all a group of poor people who can't find their way home..."
"Can you stop talking nonsense?" Carlos said helplessly. He really couldn't stand Morin treating his son like an idiot.
At least, that's what he thought.
"Alright," Morin said easily. "We've gone off-topic."
"Let's go back to what we were talking about."
"Your father, Carlos, was once a Master Assassin of the Fraternity of Assassins. But because their leader had some issues, he chose to defect."
Carlos: "..."
Could you choose better words?!
"Ahem!" Carlos cleared his throat, trying to salvage his image. "It wasn't defection."
"It's that the Fraternity of Assassins has strayed from its original principles. They no longer fight for fate, but for profit."
"So I have no desire to associate with them."
Wesley fell silent for a moment.
"...Doesn't that just mean you defected?"