Wednesday, October 13
I thought today would be as ordinary as any other. That's what I thought the moment I woke up. But it wasn't.
After changing my clothes and leaving my room, I headed straight to the hospital to get my test results. Unsurprisingly, I had an iron deficiency. While the doctor gave me the usual advice, of course, I wasn't really listening. My mind was completely focused on tonight's job. I took my prescription, went to the pharmacy, and picked up the medicine I'd only take for a few days before giving up on it.
The sky was filled with gray clouds, and most of people were spending their lunch breaks in cafés. I hadn't eaten breakfast yet, so–though I really didn't want to– I stepped into one of the overcrowded cafès and placed an order. Since there was no place to sit and I didn't want to be surrounded by people, I took my food to go and headed to a park. I sat down on one of the empty benches.
Because there weren't many children around, I was able to eat in peace. Just as I put the last bite in my mouth, a child caught my attention. He was standing in the middle of the park, eyes full of tears, looking around. Then, slowly, tears began to fall. It didn't take long before he started crying out loud, covering his face with his hands. He was probably lost.
I stayed still and watched him for a while. He looked helpless and alone... Just as I stood up, his mother came running to him and pulled him into a tight hug. And just like that, the child cried even harder.
"God... I was so scared! Never let go of my hand again okay?"
"Okay... I'll never let go again. I promise..."
As I walked away, leaving them behind, I checked the time. I didn't want to be late for class. Luckily, I still had time. After about a fifteen-minute walk, I arrived at the X building and, as always, took the stairs up to the tenth floor instead of using the elevator. When I stepped inside, Mr. Theodore was already waiting for me with a coffee in hand. He looked about thirty-four or thirty-five. A lock of his brown hair had fallen over his glasses, but it probably didn't bother him.
"Welcome, Arden. I see you're still as punctual as ever."
"I don't like waiting-or being waited on. You know that Mr. Theo."
I've been taking violin lessons from Mr. Theodore for about a year and a half now. I don't know why, but the sound of the violin brings me peace. At least for a moment, I can forget my troubles. It's the one thing I'm good at besides my actual "job."
Mr. Theo always watches me from the moment I enter the room until I pick up the violin. As if he trying to see right through me. Today was no different. As I took off my jacket and hung it on the rack, he silently sipped his coffee, eyes on me. Eventually, I stood in front of him, picked up my violin, and started playing the piece he had given me to practice last time. Like most of our lessons, this one also went quite well. After an hour of calm, I could go back to my usual state of mind.
"Thank you for today, Mr. Theo. See you next week."
"Arden... wait!"
Just as I turned toward the door, he grabbed my arm. I let out
a small gasp from the pain, and he immediately let go.
"I'm sorry-did I hurt you?" He asked, eyes filled with concern.
"No, you just caught me off guard." Of course, that was a lie. If he saw the bruises on my arm, he'd know exactly why it hurt.
"Was there something you wanted to say?" My stomach turned. That always happened when someone touched me.
"Yes... the clouds have gathered thickly. It's going to rain soon. You walked here, didn't you? Take this."
"Thank you, I'll bring it back to you tomorrow."
"No need. You can keep it. I've got a spare."
As I took the umbrella he handed me, I gave him an embarrassed smile, thanked him once more, and left the building. Just as he said, the rain started the moment I stepped outside. I slowly walked down the sidewalk under the black umbrella. It was past three, and the cafés had emptied out. There were barely one or two people around. Since I didn't have anything esle to do for now, I went back to the café I had visited in the morning. The cashier must have remembered me, because she greeted me with a cheerful smile.
"Welcome again, sir."
I tried to smile back and gave my order. With my coffee in hand, I walked to the very back table by the window and sat down, watching the outside. As raindrops hit the glass, my mind wandered back to that night. It had been pouring then, too. My eyes began to sting from the pain of old memories. I took a deep breath and tried to hold myself together. I didn't want to cry in public. I tried to think of other things. My eyes drifted off into emptiness again. At that moment, the bell above the café door rang, and I flinced. A tall-dark haired man had entered. He was probably older than me, but still looked quite good. As he walked toward the counter, I turned back to the window. But a moment later, I looked at him again. For some reason, I had the strange feeling that he was watching me. And I wasn't wrong-he was looking at me.
We locked eyes for a brief moment. There was a certain look on his face, like he was studying me. Before It could last too long, I lowered my head and looked at my coffee, which had been warming my fingers for a while even though I hadn't taken a single sip. Then I heard footsteps approaching. I felt someone stop right next to me. I looked up from my coffee- it was him.
"Hello..." he greeted softly, with a slightly shy tone. "If you don't mind... may I sit here?"
Without saying a word, I simply nodded. In truth, I didn't like that he was sitting next to me. I didn't want to engage with people unless I had to. But I was too embarrassed to say no.
I turned my gaze back to the window. A strange silence formed between us. I stared outside, and he... kept staring at me. He was the one who finally broke the silence.
"Are you alone? Or are you waiting for a friend or something?"
"What do you think?" I replied, without taking my eyes off the window. He was probably caught off guard. After a brief pause, he continued.
"You seem a little distracted. You've been staring outside for a while now."
"What do you want?"
"...I don't want anything?"
"If you don't want anything, then why did you sit here? There are plenty of empty tables." This time, I turned my head and looked directly at him.
"I just..." he hesitated. "I don't know... I just felt like sitting here. That's all. There's no special reason. Please don't get the wrong idea."
"If there's no special reason, then why have you been watching me this whole time? It feels like I'm under surveillance." My voise was as flat as I could keep it.
"Well... you looked like you were sitting alone, so I just wanted to come over. That's all."
"If I wanted to sit with someone, I would've come with a friend." ... If I had one, that is.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bother you."
"It's fine." I picked up my coffee and took my first sip. It smelled good-caramel and vanilla.
"If you'd prefer, I can get up and leave."
I took a deep breath. Strangely... this stranger had caught my attention. He was the first person I actually wanted to keep talking to.
"What's your name?" I asked. My voise was low, and because part of my hair slightly covered my face, my shyness eased a little. That's probably why my expression was calm, but with a touch of timidness.
"Harrington... William Harrington." He must have realized I was okay with him staying, because the tension in his face softened. A gentle smile appeared as he continued.
"I work in the homicide division."
Homicide division? Seriously? Out off all the people in the world- he found me?
"Homicide? You're a cop?" A wave of fear and anxiety bloomed inside me. What if he came to investigate me? What if he already knew who I really was- and that's why he approached me? Maybe he was here to arrest me. That's it. I'm caught. What am I supposed to do now?! No!… I'm just overthinking… how could he possibly know who I am? I have to stay calm, otherwise he might get suspicious. Yes, calm… I must stay calm—"
"Yes." He kept looking at me, still smiling. "And what about you?"
"My name is Arden Grey." I paused and took another sip of my coffee. I averted my eyes from him. I could feel a faint tremor in my hands, though not strong enough yet to be noticed. Since I didn't continue speaking, he went on.
"You look young. Are you a student?"
"Yes. I'm in my final year of law school." I still wasn't looking at him.
"How nice. I once wanted to study law myself—"
Riiinnnggg!
His phone started ringing.
"Sorry, I need to take this." Without waiting for my response, he answered the call and began to speak.
From the way he talked, I could tell the caller was another officer. He said he was on a break and would be back soon. He mumbled something else too, I couldn't quite catch it-my mind was too foggy. If I remember correctly, it was about a murder case. The more he spoke, the more tense I became. I hid my increasingly shaky hands under the table and kept my head down until he finished. At last, he hung up and tucked his phone back into the inside pocket of his jacket.
"Are you... okay?"
"Yeah, just a bit of a headache." But my hands were still trembling.
"Most of the young people I know say that these days. Too much screen time?" He asked with a playful tone.
I didn't answer. My eyes were still on my coffee.
"By the way, how old are you? You said you were in your final year of law school—are you twenty-two or twenty-three?"
"Twenty-one," I answered, and as I continued speaking, I turned my eyes back to him.
"I started school early…"
"You're younger than I expected."
"And how old are you?"
"Twenty-nine."
I wasn't very surprised. Given that he was a police officer, I had already guessed he'd be around that age. Still, he looked younger than his years. I lifted my cup one last time and drained the rest of my coffee. I needed to get out of here before things got any worse.
"Excuse me, but I really have to go now," I said as I slowly rose to my feet.
"What's this, running away? Do I seem that old to you? I'm not even thirty yet, no need to speak to me so formally." He was still smiling.
"…Thank you for your time, Mr. Harrington. But as I said, I need to go. Goodbye."
"Goodbye to you as well. I hope we meet again," he said as I walked away without looking back. I could still feel his eyes on me.
I hope we don't.
The moment I stepped out of the café, I began to walk in hurried strides. My heart was beating far faster than usual. Fear clawed at me, and the trembling in my hands grew worse. My breathing was uneven. The rain hadn't stopped, and the wet pavement made my feet slip as I went. Normally, October wasn't this cold, yet I was shivering like mad, breaking out in cold sweats.
When I finally reached home, I found Mao curled up on my bed. I stripped off my clothes at once, scooped him into my arms, and held him tightly. He purred in a whispery hum and began to lick the tears staining my cheek. He always knew exactly what to do when I felt like this. As I stroked his fluffy black fur, he gazed at me with those golden, gleaming eyes and meowed. I wiped my tears away, lifted him up, pressed his head to my forehead, and kissed his nose. In return, he licked mine.
When I set him back on the bed, he circled a few times before settling in my lap. His warmth slowly began to chase away the chill inside me as I closed my eyes. I never really knew why I cried. I hated these sudden fits of tears. It felt as if there were a valve in my eyes—one that someone kept opening and closing at will.
"At least I have you, Mao. I don't know what I'd do without you."
"Meow~"
"I wonder if you actually understand what I'm saying when you meow like that?"
"Meow!"
"So you do understand? I wish you could talk. I'm sure both you and I would feel so much better if you could."
"…" He lifted his head slightly, tilting it to the side as he looked at me. I couldn't resist and cupped his cheeks in my hands.
"You're the cutest little creature I've ever known, Mao. I'm so lucky to have you. I hope you love me too."
"Meow~"
"I'll take that as a yes." I leaned down and kissed the top of his head. He tapped my arm a few times with his paws and brushed his tail under my chin.
The trembling in my hands had almost faded, leaving only a faint tingling at my fingertips. I lifted Mao from my lap and set him down on the bed, then headed toward the kitchen. From one of the drawers, I took out my sleeping pills. Since I didn't know how long tonight's work would last, it was better to get some rest beforehand. I swallowed one with a glass of water and returned to Mao's side. My stomach was already beginning to churn.
Sleeping pills usually didn't work well on me, so I often switched between different brands. The one I was using this time worked—at least a little—but came with side effects. Most of the time it left me with stomach pain or nausea. But that night, I managed to fall asleep without vomiting, curled up with Mao, and for once I enjoyed a rare, deep rest.
When I woke, it was already past half-past ten. Knowing I wouldn't be able to sleep again, I got up, got ready, kissed Mao, and stepped outside. In the darkness of the night, I walked beneath the dim glow of the streetlamps until I reached a bar tucked away in one of the back alleys.
It was a place mostly used by our mafia members. Ordinary citizens rarely came here—and if they did, they quickly realized it wasn't somewhere safe to linger. Everyone at the bar knew me; in fact, it was impossible for them not to. I settled into my usual spot and ordered a drink. Once upon a time, I would get drunk almost instantly, but now my body had grown used to it. It took much longer to feel its effects—so I could drink freely without worry.
"Good evening, Mr. Grey."
I turned at the sound of a voice. It belonged to one of the members—a man at least twenty years older than me. He usually handled the cleanup jobs. After his wife died, he'd been forced into this line of work to pay for his sick daughter's hospital bills. Since he couldn't bring himself to kill, they'd assigned him to cleaning duties instead.
His job was harder than ours. He scrubbed away rivers of blood, returned scattered objects to their places, disposed of trash, bullets, and other murder weapons. What we finished in five minutes could keep him busy for hours. We didn't know each other well; he was still fairly new—only seven or eight months with us.
"Good evening to you too, Mr. Kovalski."
"Looks like things are going to get messy tonight, hm?"
"Most likely. We're taking out an important man; there's no way it won't get messy."
"Yes… unfortunately."
"How's your daughter? Is she any better?"
"Thank God, she's doing better now. She takes her medication regularly every month. Thank you so much for asking."
"I hope she makes a full recovery soon, and that you can escape this hell as well."
"I don't think I'll ever get out, sir. They won't let me go that easily anymore."
"You're right… Well, all I can do is wish you the best."
"And to you, Mr. Grey. If anything, you're the one who deserves to get out of this more than I do."
"…" I turned back silently and let out a deep breath. "What you just said is almost impossible, Mr. Kovalski. My chance to get out disappeared years ago. But thank you anyway."
"Well then, I won't keep you any longer. Good evening again."
"And to you…"
...
By the time my shift drew near, I had already finished my third glass. Midnight had just passed. I left the money for my drink on the table and stepped outside. Several cars were waiting, including the boss's. He rarely came along unless the job was important.
The moment I climbed into the car, I saw her: Isabella Moretti. Her long, dark red hair was tied back in a ponytail, her face set in its usual blank expression. A cigarette rested between her fingers. She inhaled deeply, exhaled a trail of smoke, and greeted me with a simple, "Welcome." At thirty-three, she still looked better than most women in their twenties.
I gave her a brief nod in return, then turned to the boss seated beside her. His face lit up with a smile.
"You understand how important tonight's job is, don't you, Arden?"
"Yes, sir. You can be certain I'll do my very best."
"I have no doubt about that. You've always been the best, which is why you're Crimson Veil's most skilled member. I'm confident you'll do an excellent job tonight as well."
"Thank you, sir."
"Mr. Mikhailov?" The driver in the front seat—Russell—spoke up, interrupting our conversation.
"Yes, Mr. Russell?"
"There's a police car up ahead."
"For now, do nothing. If they cause trouble, we'll deal with it."
"As you wish, boss."
The target we were assigned to eliminate was Ruth Hawks—one of the DR mafia's most notorious assassins. He had killed dozens of our men and disrupted countless operations. Because he constantly changed locations, it had taken us months to track him down. Now he was hiding in a two-story shack tucked away in the backstreets. With so many houses clustered around, taking him out quietly would be difficult. We had to move fast.
A few streets away, Isabella and I stepped out of the boss's car and advanced toward Hawks's residence. Our men followed close behind. The street was silent, not a soul in sight.
...
Like so many nights before, this one ended without incident. When I returned home, Mao was asleep. Unlike me, he kept a proper sleeping schedule. After changing my clothes, I crawled into bed and glanced through the latest messages on my phone. A few were from my so-called "friends" at the courthouse where I worked as an intern—though I wouldn't truly call them friends. The rest came from subordinates in the mafia. I ignored most of them. Except for one.
It was from Mr. Laurent.
"We've learned the police have started investigating last week's incident. Be on guard and avoid drawing attention to yourself. They say a very capable man is leading the case—William Harrington. Be careful with him. I've sent you his photo."
William Harrington?
I stared at the screen, my eyes wide with shock and fear. My hands began to tremble once more. That night, I couldn't sleep at all.