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"...," Fox hesitated briefly. "Put the documents on the table."
"Of course."
Morin placed the thick stack of documents on the table, then stepped back, making it clear he had no hostile intent.
He was confident.
These documents were more than enough to force Fox to stop and look for the truth.
The Continental Hotel's assassins were spread across the globe, with branches in twelve major cities acting as the organization's core nodes.
Beyond those branches, there were intelligence agencies, weapons suppliers, cleanup teams...
All of them formed the threads connecting those twelve nodes.
Taken together, the Continental Hotel resembled a massive net cast over the entire world.
Even governments that knew of its existence didn't dare to act against it, allowing the assassins to operate freely.
Among all its systems, the intelligence network was the most terrifying.
With enough money, the Continental Hotel could probably find out what color underwear the Pope was wearing today.
That was why the information Morin had obtained from the Continental Hotel was highly credible.
But it also meant one thing.
His plan still had a long way to go.
According to my plan, the major powers of the world will unite and act decisively, no matter the cost, Morin thought.
To reach that point... this still isn't enough.
Morin wasn't a saint.
If this job hadn't been tied to his payment, he wouldn't have gone to such lengths to deal with the Fraternity of Assassins and the Continental Hotel, even if he had nothing better to do.
So what was a Templar's job?
After analyzing it, Morin reached a simple conclusion.
To maintain order.
It was a broad concept.
But when applied to assassins, it narrowed naturally.
And when combined with a world already teetering on the edge of collapse, Morin knew exactly what he had to do.
If everything went according to plan, this would be his first job that could instantly break through the advanced level.
Maybe even higher.
That was why Morin moved slowly.
Recruiting people one by one.
Advancing step by step.
He wasn't in a rush.
First, caution.
This time, his enemies weren't just individuals, but global powers and super-powered figures.
No matter how strong Morin was, machine guns, sniper rifles, rocket launchers, and missiles were still problems.
If he got caught in concentrated fire and failed to react in time, he'd have no one to complain to.
Second, control.
Complete control.
Only then could he cash in all at once.
While Morin was reviewing his plan again, checking for flaws, Fox-still wary of him-finished reading the documents he had marked.
The more she read, the shallower her breathing became.
Her face flushed.
Her limbs went weak.
...Something about that description felt a little off.
In any case, through those documents, Fox realized things she had never considered before.
Things she didn't want to believe.
"You-this is all a coincidence!" Fox flung the documents aside and raised her gun at Morin.
"These are fake. You're deliberately trying to deceive me!"
"Whether I'm deceiving you or not," Morin said calmly,
"I believe your heart has already made a basic judgment."
His habitual smile faded.
Morin was patient.
But his patience wasn't endless.
"Now," he said evenly, "put down the gun, Miss Fox, and let's talk."
"Let's talk about whether the Fraternity's assassins have truly been acting for 'killing one to save thousands.'"
"And whether their actions really came from the guidance of 'fate.'"
"I'd rather verify it myself," Fox said coldly.
She fired.
Morin didn't even have a gun in his hand.
Fox was confident.
At this distance, Morin wouldn't have time to react.
He should have been dead.
But reality didn't follow expectations.
Fox's judgment wasn't wrong.
At this distance, even Carlos-the Master Assassin-wouldn't have been able to shoot down the bullet or dodge it.
But-
Morin wasn't a Master Assassin.
He was a super-powered individual.
Clang.
Fox's eyes widened.
"I used to work as an auto mechanic," Morin said calmly, holding a wrench.
"So carrying one around seems pretty normal, doesn't it?"
Fox's thoughts turned chaotic.
She couldn't understand how the wrench had appeared in his hand.
Or how he had so easily blocked and deflected her shot.
"It seems," Morin said as he slowly stood,
"that you don't intend to talk properly."
"In that case, I'll have to do something I didn't plan on doing."
He walked toward her at an unhurried pace.
Every bullet she fired was blocked in the short distance between them.
When Fox finally panicked and tried to run, Morin threw the wrench.
It struck her cleanly.
She collapsed unconscious.
"I really don't like being rough with women," Morin muttered, turning to the man lying motionless on the bed.
"But she just won't listen."
"Mr. Eyre?"
No response.
"Mr. Eyre?"
"Three times," Morin said calmly.
"If you don't 'wake up' now, I'll have to use more direct methods."
He picked up Fox and tossed her aside.
"Those methods tend to be... rough."
"I-I'm awake!" Eyre shot upright immediately.
"I have money! I can give you all of it!"
"I don't want your money," Morin said, shaking his head.
"And relax. I'm not here for your life."
"Then..." Eyre exhaled sharply.
"What... are you here for?"
"For what you've done," Morin replied.
"Everyone wants a monopoly."
"But raising prices too high isn't appropriate."
"You're already making a profit."
"Why push it so far that people start to resent and hate you?"
"You mean..." Eyre hesitated.
"Your prices are high," Morin said, patting his shoulder.
"But compared to others selling garbage, you still have some principles."
"Picking the best of a bad bunch."
"Even if I killed you, someone else would replace you."
"So I'd rather keep you alive."
"Of course," Morin added,
"that depends on one condition."
"I'll do it!" Eyre blurted out.
"I'll lower the prices immediately!"
"Lower them to a reasonable level," Morin said with a smile.
"A bit higher is fine. Everyone has to make a living."
He picked up Fox and headed for the door.