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"Damn it! Why is this happening?!"
On the top floor of a pharmaceutical company, inside a luxurious CEO's office, a balding man swept everything off his desk in a rage.
He turned on his subordinate, who stood nearby with his head lowered.
"Are you sure you didn't get it wrong?" he demanded. "Is Eyre still alive?"
"Yes, sir," the subordinate replied. "I saw it myself. He drove to Eyre Group."
"Our informant inside Eyre Group also sent a message. Eyre is holding a board meeting."
"Because the informant's position isn't high enough, we don't know what the meeting is about yet."
"Holding a board meeting?" the man repeated coldly.
"And you don't know what it's about?"
"What do you think he's doing, holding a board meeting at a time like this? After the assassin I sent failed?"
"Fuck. Those damn Fraternity of Assassins. They take the money and don't do the job!"
"I'm calling him."
He finally found an outlet for his anger and pulled out his phone, dialing a number.
"Ring, ring, ring."
Sloan was checking his account balance when the phone rang.
He glanced at the caller ID and smiled in satisfaction.
"Fox works fast..."
He answered the call.
"Hello, Mr. Modena. I trust you've received fate's gift?"
"Yes," Modena said slowly, his tone grinding. "A very surprising gift."
"When my subordinate saw Eyre walk into Eyre Group unharmed this morning and hold a board meeting-yes, Mr. Sloan, fate gave me quite a surprise."
The smile on Sloan's face stiffened.
"That's impossible," Sloan said. "First, Fox doesn't fail."
"Second, even if she did, she would escape. She should've reported to me already."
"Then why don't you ask her?" Modena snapped.
"Did my subordinate see a corpse this morning? Did everyone in Eyre Group get it wrong?"
He slammed his fist onto the desk.
"This is your fault, Sloan!"
"I was prepared to hire the Continental Hotel. You came to me and said fate wanted him dead."
"So I paid you. I trusted you."
"And this is the result?"
"This is fate's gift?"
"You even said the Continental Hotel is just a branch of your Fraternity!"
"Are you even worthy of that title with this kind of work ethic?"
"Mr. Modena, please calm down," Sloan said, forcing composure. "We would never allow someone chosen by fate to continue living."
"Wait for my news. I'll investigate immediately and take corrective action."
"Corrective action?" Modena laughed coldly.
"By then, I'll be finished!"
"Do you think Eyre doesn't know who tried to kill him?"
"He's holding a board meeting to deal with me!"
"Return my money. Compensate my losses. I'm hiring a killer from the Continental Hotel."
"I'm sorry," Sloan replied evenly. "Fate does not return its gifts."
"I can only investigate and send additional people to resolve the matter."
"I get it," Modena said slowly. "You're not giving the money back."
"You're planning to swallow it."
As a former gangster who'd risen through scams and counterfeit drugs, Modena understood perfectly.
"Fine. Then just you wait-"
The office door suddenly opened.
A figure slipped inside and quietly closed it behind him.
Modena, facing the door, saw the intruder clearly.
An unfamiliar Asian man.
"Who are you?!" Modena shouted. "Who let you in?!"
The man didn't answer.
He raised his gun.
Two muted plops sounded.
The bullets struck the two subordinates, and they collapsed in pools of blood.
"Who the hell are you?!" Modena screamed, terror replacing anger. "Are you here to kill me? Sloan sent you?! Fuck you, Sloan-"
Plop.
The third shot ended it.
Modena fell, his life extinguished by a single bullet.
"Hello?" Sloan said into the phone, momentarily stunned. "Mr. Modena?"
...Did I send someone?
No. I didn't.
After confirming it again, Sloan felt something else.
Curiosity.
So who had cleaned up his mess so conveniently?
The Continental Hotel?
After Fox failed, did Eyre immediately hire someone?
That seemed too fast.
Sloan shook his head, ready to hang up.
Then he heard a voice.
"Mr. Sloan?"
"Mr. Sloan of the Fraternity of Assassins?"
Sloan's eyes widened.
The other party knew his identity.
"...Who are you?" he asked after a pause. "Are you a killer?"
He had no choice but to respond.
The person on the line knew his name.
Knew his identity.
This was dangerous.
The Fraternity of Assassins had few members-far fewer than the Continental Hotel-but almost no one dared provoke them.
In status alone, they stood at the same level.
Because all their assassins were super-powered.
Because they only killed those whose names appeared on the Loom of Fate.
They didn't take money.
Fear of strength. Respect for principles.
That was their shield.
But if word spread that Sloan accepted paid contracts-
The Fraternity would instantly become everyone's enemy.
A group of super-powered killers without limits.
Terrifying.
That was why Sloan forged the list to scam money.
And why he erased the source afterward.
Even if Modena had lived, his name would have "appeared" on the Loom eventually.
"I'm a novice killer," the voice said calmly. "This mission is an assessment task from the Continental Hotel."
"But I also have another identity."
"I think you'll find it interesting, Mr. Sloan."
"I am..."
"A Templar."