Hitman T

When I work, I don't like to wear gloves, not even the thinnest kind of company-made hand masks, because any foreign substance can affect my judgment and precision to some extent.

A 99% success rate is not enough; it always needs to be 100%, as that 1% could cost me my life. This is my second rule.

I applied a layer of transparent nail polish on my fingers before coming. Although it feels uncomfortable once it's dry, like the tight, wrinkled feeling when you get super glue on your skin, it's the most suitable method.

The target seems very relaxed in this restroom, loosening his belt to enjoy his last moment of life, humming a off-key tune. I softly open the stall door and stand behind him.

All I have in my hand is a triangular knife that you can find in any hardware store, but the one in my hand not only has a sharp tip, but each edge is also razor-sharp. A triangular knife is actually a shape similar to a military dagger; after piercing the skin, it leaves a triangular wound that cannot be stitched up in a short time, suitable for bleeding. If it hits an artery, the person will bleed out and die within seconds. Choosing this tool is just because I feel that people from country J only deserve this crude tool.

When I stand behind him, he is completely unaware.

My left hand covered his mouth and nose immediately, while my right hand stabbed the knife into his neck. I didn't feel any resistance as the knife went in about a third of the way. Then, I pulled my right hand out, slicing open the skin and flesh on the right side of his neck where the artery was. I quickly hid my right hand behind him because I didn't want his blood to dirty my clothes.His neck was spurting blood like a sprinkler, splashing on the wall tiles and flowing down to the toilet bowl. I thought the blood of J country people was as lowly as the liquid in the toilet bowl.

He was momentarily shocked, losing his will, his hands flailing aimlessly in the air as if trying to grab his departing soul.

From undoing his belt to now, it had only been about 6 seconds, a time that wouldn't raise suspicion from his bodyguards waiting outside the door.

His hands slowly stopped struggling, going limp. I whispered in his ear, "Do something for your ancestors, will you."

As I finished speaking, his hands dropped completely. I laid him on the ground, his body leaning against the toilet bowl, head naturally dangling inside.

It was almost time. I jumped out of the window; the height was safe enough, and I kept my movements quiet.

As I passed by the nightclub's entrance, the hall was chaotic, everyone rushing towards the stairs, enjoying the spectacle without fear.

I took a taxi, feeling quite good, and found a bar to listen to some songs. When I entered, someone was playing the violin, performing my favorite piece, "Por Una cabeza," an Argentine tango that always stirred up emotions and excitement no matter when you hear it.

The bar had UV lights, and I checked for any bloodstains on my clothes. Finding none, it wasn't worth associating with that bastard by wearing his clothes again.

L called, probably hearing the noise and music from my side, asking where I was having fun and why I was in such a good mood after finishing the job.

I replied, "Just because I really like Japanese cuisine, especially sashimi."

L teased, "If it were 1937, you'd be the first to charge into the Japanese military camp with explosives strapped to you." I said, "I have a way to make the explosives go in on their own without hurting myself."

L told me to stop talking nonsense, the boss was very pleased, and when I returned, he wanted to see me.

I hesitated for a moment, not feeling the usual pride one might have when being summoned by a leader. I just felt it was unnecessary; things were fine as they were.

L asked if I was nervous. I said maybe a little, then ended the call as it was too noisy. L told me to enjoy myself and see if I could encounter any romantic encounters.

I smiled and hung up, continuing to sip my rum slowly as I couldn't drink too much. It wouldn't be right not to have a drink under this song's influence, and the bartender gave me a scrutinizing look, as if judging my frugality.

After the second mission, I stayed in ZJ for a few days. The police would surely scrutinize anyone entering or leaving ZJ during this time. In fact, the first and second missions were beyond the jurisdiction of local police. They could only assist, and Interpol would definitely get involved as both targets were foreigners. I wasn't worried about this; the company would handle it properly. I was just an executor.

Many wonder why they don't see such news on newspapers or TV. Well, what they want you to know, you'll know. What they don't want you to know, the common folks won't find out.

When I returned, I told L I wanted to take a break for at least two months and not take any more tasks. L said she would inform the higher-ups.

After a week, feeling bored at home, I decided to go to the supermarket. On my way back, I saw someone selling cats on the overpass. There was one small cat all white, trembling in the cage, maybe out of fear or cold.

I bought it for 30 money, unable to hold it with my hands, so I placed it in my jacket pocket. It behaved well inside, lifting its head to look at me. There was a pet store under the overpass, where I bought a small bed for it. It seemed it couldn't eat cat food yet; luckily, I had bought milk from the supermarket.

And that's how I got a companion, naming it Tiger. Tiger was a male kitten, seemingly just over a month old. Every night, he would wake me up, and I'd feed him milk. My three-hour sleep turned into two hours since he arrived. Watching him suckle on the syringe with his little paws made me realize that animals and humans had similarities, even though sometimes humans weren't as good as these animals.

Two days later, L arrived. Upon entering, she saw Tiger biting a shoelace and exclaimed, "Wow, so cute! Where did you steal it from?"

I replied, "Though my profession is a bit unique, it's not to the point of stealing in daily life. I bought it, why would I steal?"

She wanted to hold Tiger, but he immediately went into a defensive posture. I handed him over, saying, "You play with him; his teeth haven't fully grown yet."

L held him, and he started grabbing her hair, but she didn't avoid it. Soon, they became acquainted. It was good; L could take care of him when I wasn't around.

L mentioned the boss wanted to see me at 7 p.m. I asked why the boss always wanted to see me when there were so many colleagues in the company. Had he met them all?

L, who had been with the company for four years, said she hadn't heard of the boss meeting with executors in these four years. Rumor had it that he might have met a few in the past. She had only met the boss once or twice.

L said not to worry, it should be a good thing, but I couldn't shake off this weird feeling inside. I asked L if I should go alone in the evening or if she would come with me. L said I should go by myself. I had no choice, so I told her to help me feed Tiger, use a syringe to give him some milk, and be careful not to choke him by injecting too quickly.L said she got it, teasing me not to act like a dad. I replied, "Don't mock me; I do feel like a dad when feeding him." L joked, "You're not even 20 yet, what kind of dad are you trying to be!"

If it wasn't for L's reminder, I would have forgotten my age long ago. L said, "Stop daydreaming, it's time to go, don't keep the boss waiting." I acknowledged with a grunt, put on my shoes, and headed out.