Inside an office room, there was a young man who seemed to be in his late twenties, slouched in a high backed leather chair, one leg casually crossed over the other. A magazine lay open across his face like a makeshift blindfold, the magazine seems to be talking about the Fixer and events that are happening within the city of Veston.
He has long black hair tied low at the back into a ponytail, his face marked here and there by thin, faded scars that looked more like silver threads than old wounds.
He wore a striking ensemble dominated by crimson and red tones, layered in the elegant yet martial style of ancient eastern courts, on his side is a simple oriental sword
His arms were folded across his chest, posture relaxed yet somehow coiled. His breathing had slowed to the deep, even rhythm of sleep. Behind closed eyelids, he was no longer in the office.
He was dreaming of a distant past.
"To kill or to be killed."
Those were the first words his father ever spoke to him, ever since he was a child all he remember was standing barefoot on the snowdusted courtyard of the old Qingyun estate, with a blunt wooden practice sword in his hands.
From that day forward, his existence narrowed to a single purpose.
"You are a weapon, always remember that"
To become the sword for others to wield. To slash through obstacles, to burn what could not be cut. His father drilled the philosophy into him with the same relentless precision he used to hone steel.
He taught him to be Effective, Emotionless and Unyielding.
Every mistake was corrected.
He still remembered the faces of those who watched him grow into his role.
The Eight Swords of Qingyun, standing like statues in their black and gold robes, eyes narrowed in assessment.
The Tianyuan Four Heavenly Generals, resplendent in ceremonial armor, their expressions a mixture of disdain, reluctant respect, and cold calculation.
The courtiers and shadow officials of the Tianyuan imperial house, whispering behind silk fans, weighing his worth like one weighs a newly forged blade.
Some looked at him with contempt, a tool pretending at humanity.
Some with pity, a boy who would never know anything else.
Most with satisfaction, a perfect weapon had been forged, and it answered to their side.
Then the dream shifted, as dreams do, to a certain day.
The location was high in the misty mountains, cherry blossoms falling like slow pink snow. His father stood opposite him, tall and iron-strong.
No words were spoken. Only the soft ring of steel clearing scabbards.
The duel was intense, beautiful in its brutality. Every movement carried the weight of decades of slaughter, of restless training.
Crimson sprayed across white stone. Robes tore. Blades clashed and parted in showers of sparks. Pain burned through his body, his shoulder, his leg, deep cuts that like fire, but he felt them only as distant, irrelevant feeling
In the end he was the one last standing, the final strike came clean. A single line of red across his father's chest.
The old man looked down at him one last time, his eyes showing no anger, no regret. Only a faint, approving nod, as though the blade had finally achieved perfect sharpness.
Then the light left those familiar eyes.
His father's body crumpled. Blood pooled at his feet, thick and steaming in the cold mountain air.
He stood there, breathing hard, body screaming from a dozen wounds, for a moment, he waited for something to come, grief, anger, anything.
Nothing did.
After all, this was what he was supposed to be right? A weapon, a tool, perhaps it is better that way, just then suddenly.
A gloved hand reached out, plucked the magazine from his face, and delivered a firm, smack to the top of his head.
"Liang Shen!"
A voice speaks out, not loud, not soft, but it seems to be coming from directly in front of him.
"Ah!"
Liang Shen jolted awake with a small, startled sound. It wasn't pain, it was more out of surprise. His eyes blinked open, momentarily unfocused, before focusing on the figure standing over him, he recognized the person immediately, she was Maire.
Marie stood there, one hand still holding the magazine like a makeshift weapon, the other resting lightly on the polished black handle of her cane. She looked no older than her late twenties, though something in her poised demeanor suggested far more experience than her appearance let on.
Her long, black hair was woven into a thick, neat braid that draped over one shoulder, the tail brushing against the lapel of her tailored black suit.
Black leather gloves covered her hands to the wrist, on her face were round-framed black glasses. She looked at Shen with a soft smile.
"Sleeping on the job, aren't we? I hope you aren't beginning to get too comfortable with it" she said, her tone light but carrying the unmistakable edge of someone who expected better.
Marie is the founder and head of the White Crane Office. In other words, she was the boss of Liang Shen.
Still blinking away the haze of his dream, Liang Shen straightened in the chair. He rubbed the back of his neck once, the motion almost sheepish.
"My apologies," he said quietly, his voice low and steady now that the disorientation had passed. "I was… distracted "
Marie sighs, "you are the office guard you know, aren't you afraid someone will come in to steal our stuff while you doze off?"
Liang Shen answered quickly, "that will never happen," his face becoming serious "I can assure you that much" because if it does, he may as well fail his only purpose he has right now.
Marie smiles softly and seems satisfied with his answer "Every well" she then hand him back the magazine "We just came back from the Nexus Association and i have meet someone rather interesting, i will introduce her to you later"
Liang Shen nodded, though he seemed uninterested about this person Marie is talking about, but there is something he wanted to know.
"Anything else of importance?" he asked, voice still carrying the faint roughness of awaken from his sleep.
Marie gave a small nod, her lips parted to answer, "Well yes, in fact we have taken in a rather particular request from the association"
Marie moved to the small side table where a porcelain teapot waited. She poured hot water over loose leaves with practiced grace, steam curling upward.
"But I believe it would be best if I let Sandra explain it"
Just as she said so, a calm, even voice cut in from the far side of the room.
"We've accepted a request to handle a case of serial kidnappings."
Sandra sat at her wide oak desk near the window, posture perfectly straight, pen moving steadily across a ledger as she spoke without once looking up. Her short silver hair was cut in a precise chin length.
She wore a tailored ensemble that echoed the reference elegance of her role, a high-collared blouse beneath a fitted blazer, a knee length pencil skirt in dark tone, sheer black stockings, and low-heeled ankle boots. A thin silver chain with a small violet gem hung at her throat, the only concession to color.
Liang Shen raised an eyebrow, the motion was small but telling.
"It doesn't seem like something falls within our line of work" he asked. "Shouldn't the S.E.C.T. be handling something like that?"
Marie nods, sipping her tea.
"Normally, yes," she replied, not turning around. "But the Strategic Enforcement & Containment Taskforce is currently stretched thin dealing with… well, let say other problems."
Liang Shen gave a short nod of understanding, he crossed the room to Sandra's desk, boots quiet on the hardwood floor.
"May I see the details?"
Sandra paused her writing, set the pen down with a soft click, and slid a slim tablet across the desk. Her fingers brushed the edge once before withdrawing.
Liang Shen picked it up. The screen glowed to life at his touch, displaying the case file in organized sections.
The primary target:
Riley, age twelve, missing for four days. Last seen leaving his after school club activity in the eastern district. No signs of struggle, no ransom demand, no body.
The Nexus Association suspected this wasn't an isolated incident.
Riley's disappearance fit a pattern stretching back months, dozens of people vanishing across the city. Victims shared no obvious connections, different neighborhoods, different ages and backgrounds.
No bodies ever recovered. No witnesses. No forensic traces worth mentioning.
Liang Shen's eyes narrowed slightly as he scrolled.
"This seems troublesome," he murmured before glancing at Sandra. "so what do we have to work with?"
Sandra finally lifted her gaze. Her expression remained perfectly neutral, voice flat and measured.
"Almost nothing, several other Offices have already taken a run at the case. They found nothing and eventually dropped it, as for the association they don't seem to have any idea either"
That didn't surprise him. Most Offices were built for combat, bounties with clear targets. Investigation wasn't their strength, still working on a case with no lead sound ridiculous
"seem like a headache" Liang Shen think internally as he ponder the case
Marie set her teacup down with a faint clink and started toward the door, cane tapping lightly with each step.
"We'll handle the investigation ourselves if there is no other way," she said. "It will take time, I believe you have no objection with the request I chose this time?"
Liang Shen handed the tablet back to Sandra. She accepted it calmly, already returning to her ledger as though the conversation had never interrupted her.
"i suppose…" Liang Shen replied.
With that Marie walked past Liang Shen toward the Office entrance. "Good, let's get going then Liang Shen, there are people waiting for us."
Marie paused at the threshold, glancing back at Sandra. "We'll check in when we have something."
Sandra didn't look up this time. "Safe travels."
Soon Liang Shen and Marie stepped out of the office together. The door closed behind them with a soft click, leaving Sandra alone once more with her numbers and her silence.
As Liang Shen leaves the office, he thinks back about the dream that he had, but he quickly shakes his head, he had buried that past long ago and he shouldn't let it bother him any longer.
However, sometimes he wonders if his past will ever catch up with him.