Adisorn's thick fingers pressed hard against the bridge of his nose, as if trying to physically knead the mounting pressure out of his skull. The exhaustion of months spent in the shadows had pooled in his hollow, darkened eyes. Reluctantly, he cracked open the matte black dossier, his voice dropping to a gravelly undertone.
"Am I expected to execute this… alone?"
Chatchawin, who had been dissecting Adisorn's every micro-expression, let a ghost of a smirk pull at his lips. He leaned back, arms crossed with the quiet, terrifying composure of a lion watching its prey within the bars of a cage.
"Don't worry, Adisorn. You won't be a lone wolf on this one. I've assembled a team of… familiar faces."
Without waiting for a rebuttal, Chatchawin raised his hand and snapped his fingers—a sharp, singular crack that sounded like a gunshot in the silent room.
Tap… Tap… Tap…
The rhythmic, deliberate strike of stiletto heels against the marble floor echoed from behind a heavy curtain of midnight-black velvet. Then, she stepped into the light. Her silhouette was lithe and elegant, clad in a dark, impeccably tailored dress that made her porcelain skin glow with a spectral radiance. Her raven hair fell in natural waves over her shoulders, framing a face that was as alluring as it was lethal.
The moment the light hit her features, Adisorn froze. His breath hitched, caught in the throat of a sudden, violent realization. He knew her. Every detail. She was the elite operative who had served as his eyes and ears in countless shadow missions. The intelligence she had fed him in the past had been so flawless, so vital, that he had once counted her among the few souls he actually trusted.
But now, the puzzle pieces slammed together with agonizing clarity. The truth was a physical blow to the chest: she was the viper who had been nesting in his confidence all along.
"You…!" Adisorn pointed at her, his finger trembling with a fury that threatened to erupt. "You've been Chatchawin's shadow the whole time?"
The woman met his gaze with the triumphant shimmer of a winner. She slowly ran a hand through her hair, the movement fluid and graceful—a silent, mocking taunt that cut deeper than any insult.
"I'm glad to see you've finally opened your eyes, Adisorn," she said. Her voice was honeyed and sweet, yet it carried the razor-sharp edge of a blade slicing through his former ignorance.
Chatchawin watched the electric tension between them with dark amusement, gesturing toward her with a mock air of chivalry.
"She is the finest infiltrator this country has ever produced. So ghost-like, not even the wind can track her," Chatchawin said smoothly, nodding toward his associate. "When you reach China, she will be your handler—the invisible hand ensuring the team returns in one piece."
Adisorn let out a harsh, cynical laugh, mocking his own stupidity. "And what shred of trust do I have left for a woman like her?" He flicked a gaze of pure suspicion toward the operative.
The viper in a designer dress merely shrugged, her expression bored yet dangerous.
"As long as you're wearing our colors, you can trust me implicitly," she said, tilting her head with a lethal, seductive tilt. "Oh… and I suppose I should re-introduce myself properly."
Her crimson lips curled into a predatory grin. "Call me Rosé. My primary occupation is infiltration. My hobby? Making certain people… lose their composure."