I was once an assassin—a tool with no name, only a code number, serving the organization that sustained my life and raised me.
The organization had many names, but I only learned later that none of those were its true name. By the time I was qualified to know the organization's real name, I no longer cared about such things.
No—I should say that by then, I no longer cared about anything at all.
I don't know when it started, but I gradually became numb to this day-after-day work. Perhaps the seeds of this numbness had been planted in my heart when I was very small.
I must have been an orphan, taken in by the organization's personnel before my self-awareness had fully awakened, and raised in the most scientific manner possible.
Like livestock on a high-end ranch, with customized growth and living conditions.
But the reality was actually more cruel than that.
When the organization determined that a child had developed sufficient rationality to recognize their situation, they would be brought into a specific area and randomly placed somewhere within that zone.
Then came the sound of bells being rung, signaling the start of the assassin selection.
I only learned later that the organization's so-called assassin selection involved randomly dropping children with sufficient rationality into a dark forest filled with various wild beasts, and letting events unfold naturally.
The only way to end that hellish situation was to find the correct exit and leave the area.
But there were only thirteen spots for those who could leave.
Once the number of escapees reached thirteen, the area would be completely sealed off. The children remaining inside could only fend for themselves, eventually becoming experimental subjects in the organization's research division laboratories alongside the beasts in the area.
Yes, you heard correctly—this was a very cruel "selection." Not to mention that the beasts placed in the area had actually undergone genetic modification experiments by the organization's research division for certain purposes, making them experimental subjects with physical capabilities superior to normal beasts. Compared to those enhanced beasts with improved physical qualities and intelligence, the fellow candidates in the same selection were equally dangerous.
To survive and become one of the final thirteen, everyone would go mad.
Even madder than those beasts.
Of course, I was no exception.
Those judged qualified for selection were all children with certain talents. Following the principle of maximum utilization, the unqualified had already been sent to laboratories for human experimentation.
My selection experience was very bloody—I won't tell you about it.
Even if you beg me, it's useless.
It's not that I'm unwilling, but there's no need. Even if you wanted to gain combat experience from it, it wouldn't be possible. Although I, just a child at the time, had received some training, by the end I had completely lost consciousness, driven only by biological survival instincts that moved my body to use the most primitive and bloodiest methods to eliminate all remaining creatures in the selection area. I barely managed to drag my already tattered body to the exit by biting and crawling on grass.
...
...Don't keep begging me—I really find it hard to refuse your requests.
And don't cry either. I'm fine.
When I left the selection grounds, I had almost completely lost all signs of life. However, the organization's development tendency leaned toward biological science, and through extensive experiments and research, they had created some very powerful medicines.
Probably with an experimental attitude, I was fed medical drugs still in the experimental stage. Unfortunately, I survived.
Of course, I no longer have that negative attitude now, so Hermione, be gentler—it hurts a bit.
After that selection, I officially entered the assassin reserves and began the organization's assassin training, learning various skills related to killing.
The horsemanship you know about—I learned that during that period.
As time passed, I officially became a member of the organization's armed division's assassin group.
After that, it was just continuously taking on organizational missions, and later even external missions, constantly killing targets, earning rewards, then taking on more missions, repeating the above steps.
This was the entirety of my previous life.
Don't make that expression—it's fine.
My job was killing people. Because of my work and life, my interests were only related to killing: dismantling firearms, shooting, making bombs, collecting hot weapons and cold weapons... All the money I earned from missions was invested in these things.
When I had learned all skills related to being an assassin and mastered them to proficiency or even higher levels of expertise, and collected almost all registered hot and cold weapons in the world, I found that life seemed to have lost its meaning.
There was nothing left to learn, my hobbies could no longer go deeper, the day-after-day, year-after-year work was extremely boring, and I didn't know where to use the money I earned.
The distant and pale future seemed endless, and on the road leading to my future, there was destined to be only crimson blood.
Blood might be able to dye the pale future red, but that could only color its surface—its interior remained pale and empty.
Our organization's requirement for tools like us was that tools could only obey superior orders and weren't allowed to have our own thoughts. Of course, I followed this rule too.
So even though my life had lost meaning, I didn't stop my actions because of it. Thinking about it now, I was like one of the alchemical puppets in my hands today—though possessing life, I was just a puppet, a tool, only able to act according to yours and my commands.
Although I vaguely sensed that the organization seemed to hide more mysterious information and matters, I didn't want to investigate. In fact, my superior had once notified me that the organization's higher-ups planned to give me a very high position. I simply accepted it, but actually never exercised the powers of that new position, nor attended meetings that position should have attended.
But unfortunately... well, fortunately, the person who promoted me didn't seem to mind my indifferent behavior and didn't eliminate me because of it. I was able to continue living numbly.
When a person is very idle and has an empty heart, they often think more than usual.
I also experienced such times, and those were among the few interesting periods of self-reflection in my previous life.
Being able to think for myself was still very interesting, bringing different feelings to oneself, just like how I've grown accustomed to this way of life now. Of course, no need to remind me—you're the same.
But unfortunately, by the time I had those interesting thoughts, my body's functions had already begun rapidly declining for various reasons, and finally died completely.
However, I don't detest or hate my previous life's experiences, because it was due to those things that I had the opportunity to meet you and come to your side.
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