Prologue
Memories Buried by Snow
Steps crunched on the icy blanket, while gloved hands gently moved frosted foliage aside, cloth rustling with each movement. A hooded figure jumped over logs and ducked under branches, navigating through deep shadows and heading towards shafts of light.
Outside the forest, they found themselves in a white expanse bathed in orange. A cold gust swept through the trees and pulled at their white hood, ruffling their raven-black hair and revealing the white headset beneath.
"What a bother." The figure sighed with a young, male voice, a white wisp forming in front of him.
His coat swayed to the right as he trudged through the valley, the pale bag slung over his shoulder swinging side-to-side. Behind him, the snow was already erasing his footprints. Had it not been for his shadow, he would've blended into the sunset.
Standing a few meters from the edge of a cliff, he dropped the bag to his side and pressed into his ear muffler.
"I'm on site." Ahead of him, reflected in his goggles was a large villa.
A crackle, then a feminine voice. "Copy that, Two-Zero-One." Said with a faint accent.
The bag clicked open. Inside was an assortment of black and white components, with a sky blue sling. He knelt down and began twisting each intricate part together.
Two-Zero-One rubbed his gloved palms. The afternoon sun pulled his attention.
He glanced to his right, toward the horizon, where the Sun hung above the mountain range. He pulled aside his mask down to breathe the crisp air, showing his pale complexion. Soaking up the sunset's warmth, before lifting his rifle.
Flat on the ground, Two-Zero-One adjusted the scope until the blurred shapes sharpened, only for the wind to tug his hood back and forth.
"Hrk, grk! Stop it!" He grumbled.
Static hissed as the woman asked, "What's wrong?"
"The weather condition's…" He exhaled, "…not exactly favorable."
"It's because you left most of your gear in the car." His handler argued.
"I'm not gonna be here for too long, right? Get to the cliff, shoot, get back down." He responded, checking the white bag.
"It's better to be prepared."
Two-Zero-One picked up a magazine, slowly inserting the bullets.
"Whose brilliant idea was it to have my first mission be on the mountain?"
"... Professor Tetsuya's."
"Of course, he did…" He clicked his tongue, "Why did they choose me? Any other agent could make this shot."
"Because according to them, there's no one else like you, Two-Zero-One."
"It's barely two kilometers. This is basically routine." He argued, staring at the bullet.
Five long seconds followed, before she finally responded.
"Have you ever aimed at a real person before?"
Two-Zero-One opened his mouth.
All he had to do was watch and pull the trigger at the right moment. Physically, it was something he had done countless times, albeit colder. Mentally, it was his first step into unfamiliar territory.
Unable to answer, he swallowed his words as silently as possible.
"How close have you been to death?" She asked, "Or rather, have ya ever caused it yerself?" Accent slipping as she changed her question.
An image flashed in the boy's mind, one of an arm, protruding through rubble under clouds of dust and peering sunlight.
"... No." He quietly responded.
"All twelve agencies are watching you. Waiting. Evaluating. Taking everything into account to see if the professor's masterpiece was worth their investing in, and whether to produce—" There was slight static at the tail-end of her words.
"What happens… if I fail?"
"If you fail, then—" A high-pitched snap cut her off. A faint thunder clap could be heard in the distance.
"Ahk!" He yelped, "Command? Command, do you copy?"
"If I fail…" Cold air hissed, "…the white room."
A stiff numbness ran through his fingers. Visions of bed straps and scalpels, of blurry doctors with needles and bottles.
Two-Zero-One scanned his surroundings.
Ahead, he was dangerously close to the steep drop. Less than ten feet away was a chasm where the sunlight did not reach, where a haunting pull called out to him. Beyond that, the villa stood atop another summit.
To his right were the continuous hills surrounded by dense forests, where the sun setting sank between two mountains.
To his left, opposite of the Sun, a monotony of dark clouds gathered beyond the mountain range, lightning faintly flashing — a blizzard was brewing.
Behind him was the path he had taken to get here. His footsteps, buried beneath a fresh blanket of snow, as if he they were never there, and beyond that was where his handler waited.
"Where would I even…?" He shook his head. There was nowhere to run to. From above, shafts of golden sunlight were like prison bars.
"No… just don't fail." He wiped his face, slotting in the half-filled magazine.
Flat on the ground, the weather wasted no time burying him. Snow flickered in his view every other second, coming from his left. The render was a blur, yet he saw a warm glow radiating from the brown interior.
When it finally focused, he watched the cozy sight of wooden floors and cream white walls, decorated with yellow lamps. There was a slightly elevated section at the front, decorated to look like a stage. A small, intimate group of ten people sat below, an audience chatting before the stage.
"——Hello? — you hear me? Do you hear me now?"
"Ah… Yeah… yeah." He shook his head, "I can hear you now…"
"Must've been some radio interference. Keep me posted."
"Copy that." He replied, coiling the sling to his hand.
A girl stepped onto the stage. She had platinum white hair, not unlike the snow, and looked almost the same age he was, if not a little younger. Behind her, a butler handed her a violin, and she gave him a high-five.
At the front-most chair sat a gentleman with white streaks in his hair.
"So, that's him." The young assassin adjusted his scope, focusing on the old gentleman.
Static followed, "Have you located the target?"
The boy pressed onto his and asked, "Just the CEO, and I believe his daughter. Any updates?"
"We haven't re—ved any new details." Her voice was the only sound besides the howling winds, but even that was blocked out by the weather.
"It would be nice if they gave me a photo or a description."
Light dimmed inside, and he watched the girl play the violin, while her audience watched cheerfully.
"Wouldn't— this much trouble if we already— D—termine who— figure it——" Her voice glitched.
Thunder rumbled from the distance, signaling the blizzard's first attack. A gust of wind pulled his white cloak over his face — the more he tried pulling it off, the more it slapped him in the face.
After being repeatedly slapped, he got on his knees and took off his cloak, letting the wind take it.
The blue turtleneck underneath was all that was left to fend him from the frigid frost. A single gust of wind was enough to send shivers down his spine. He exhaled into his stiff fingers, then grabbed hold of the firearm.
Beams of sunlight sank as the sun was halfway down the mountain, and the air grew thinner with each passing moment.
But when he returned his gaze through the scope, he saw the violin drop to the wooden floor. The heiress' arms were caught in the butler's tight grip.
"Two-Zero-One to Command, do you copy? Target has been identified. He has taken the heiress as a hostage." He pressed into his headset, frantically calling out to his handler, "I repeat, the target has the heiress hostage!"
"Copy— I repeat— "
Several seconds slipped away as static stopped him from striking. Audience members stood up in retaliation, only to stop once the butler pulled out a pistol.
"Command, I have line of sight on the target. I repeat, he's in line of sight. Permission to engage!" He shouted into his headset.
"—— risk shooting the heiress. Do not——————" There was nothing left to make out.
Without instruction, the young assassin scowled. His rage at inaction betrayed his fear of being reprimanded. He grit his teeth, muttering, "Sorry, Command…"
Before he could shoot, a bright flash blinded him.
The rifle's crack was drowned out by the lightning, and the bullet vanished to the snowy curtain.
When the thunder died down, he opened his eyes and turned back into the interior.
He zoomed in, and a pit formed in his chest.
Tears streamed down from the girl's eyes as the butler placed the gun against the back of her head. Betrayal set in her eyes as the butler who stepped on the stage with her was ready to take her life.
Clenching his teeth, Two-Zero-One ejected the casing, chambering a new load. A golden cartridge flew out as he aligned his sights with the butler's head.
Cold air began stabbing his lungs like icy needles. He bit his lip until it cracked, while waiting for his window. Then the CEO stood up and appeared to plead with the butler, taking attention away from the girl.
It was routine. An act he was intimately familiar with. But even though it was the window he waited for, his finger quivered.
The mission was clear: Eliminate the target.
Two-Zero-One squeezed the trigger, and blood splattered.
The white cliff had been stained red.
"What… ha… ppened…?" Two-Zero-One groaned, his face pressed against the ground.
He instinctively touched the back of his head. His vision blurred as the red leaked between his gloved fingers.
Crack.
Something dug into the snow, just a few feet from his face.
His vision cleared up, and he realized what had struck him.
A bullet from the blizzard — hail.
Ice ran across his veins as he shifted his gaze towards the sky. His thoughts lagged for a moment, processing the magnitude of what was yet to come.
A vortex swirled above his head.
The boy got to his feet, staring at the spiraling clouds. But as he stepped back, the sound of static stopped him.
"—Zero One—"
The handler's voice was barely audible. But the conversation from earlier came rushing back to him:
"All twelve agencies are watching you, Two-Zero-One. They will evaluate everything after the mission. To see what you can do."
Turning back meant failure.
Staying put meant death.
"What should I—? "
"Return—" His handler's voice crackled.
"Huh?"
"Come back—— before — blizzard——"
Relief washed over him. A small smile formed on his face as he turned around.
But as he took one step forward, he paused. The heiress' face flashed in his mind — the tears streaming down her horrified face.
Balling his hand into a fist, he marched back to his position.