Part 1: Retirement (5)

Ten days had passed since Aiden left the Thieves Guild.

Ten days had passed since receiving his retirement mission.

Aiden wandered aimlessly, walking and walking again.

The freedom to go anywhere…

In other words, it also meant there was nowhere he truly belonged.

So he simply followed the main road without a destination. Eventually, a nameless mountain appeared in his path.

The sun had set by the time he climbed halfway up.

The sky grew dark, and the wind turned chilly. As the crescent moon rose, stars began to peek out one by one.

Following the sound of water, he came across a gently flowing stream.

The reflection in the clear water showed the face of a young man—handsome and exuding an aura of mystery.

It was Aiden’s real face.

The Grim Reaper, Thanatonautes.

Or the Guide of the Netherworld.

The name Aiden, which once made the entire continent tremble, belonged to an assassin in his mid-twenties.

He had long since learned to suppress his emotions.

And with his unique talent for absorbing Death Qi, he became the most feared assassin at a young age.

For Aiden, his handsome face was more of a curse than a blessing.

His looks made him far too noticeable.

As he later heard, even his master hadn’t initially intended to train him as an assassin.

With that charming face…

He was supposed to infiltrate noble circles and extract critical information from unsuspecting women.

But his remarkable aptitude in assassination training led him to an unexpected path.

‘It’s almost like I’m wearing a disguise.’

Aiden touched his face here and there with one hand, then gave a faint, bitter smile.

The reflection of his real face in the stream felt unfamiliar.

Ever since becoming an assassin, he had always hidden his appearance behind artificial skin.

Now…

The fake seemed more real, and the real felt fake.

After quenching his thirst with the stream water, Aiden resumed his walk.

As he climbed further up the mountain, he suddenly remembered Fathom’s tarot reading.

Back then, he had drawn the Death card. In hindsight, the card had predicted Aiden’s future with eerie accuracy.

Aiden had died.

More precisely, the assassin Aiden had died.

Now that he was retired, no one except his master knew his real face or name.

While climbing, Aiden discovered a small cave.

From his subspace pouch, he retrieved a luxurious lamp.

When he infused it with mana, the cave lit up warmly. A gentle heat spread in all directions.

The lamp was one of many artifacts Aiden possessed.

He leaned against the cave wall and unfolded a piece of paper from his chest pocket.

It was the absurd mission directive handed to him by his master.

The orders were divided into three main points:

– Directive 1: Do not live under a false name or with a false face.

In accordance with this, Aiden had removed his artificial skin mask. He also intended to use his real name instead of “Clark.”

He knew his appearance would draw attention and create endless hassles, but there was no helping it.

– Directive 2: Make ten friends.

This directive was equally unappealing.

Aiden had strength, wealth—everything in abundance.

He saw no reason to go out of his way to make friends.

Besides, he preferred being alone.

Could friendship even exist in the first place?

If the other person considered him a friend, but he didn’t feel the same, did that count?

Or if he thought of someone as a friend, but they didn’t reciprocate?

What if both thought they were friends, only to discover it was a mutual misunderstanding?

On this continent, there were two wizards famous as paragons of “true friendship.”

Once, Aiden had been hired by one of them to assassinate the other.

Friendship, in Aiden’s view, was nothing but deceit.

Either self-deceit or deception of others.

– Directive 3: Experience thirty different professions.

The final directive was equally baffling.

Why was he now being told to experience different jobs?

Was the master simply mocking him under the guise of retirement?

That’s how the directives felt to him.

Though filled with complaints, Aiden knew he couldn’t disobey.

He always followed orders. He always completed missions.

It was that resolve that had kept him alive all this time.

Aiden put the directive back into his chest pocket.

Then, he turned his gaze toward the cave entrance.

Someone was approaching.

*  *  *

“Well, looks like someone got here first. Mind if we share the space?”

“This is the only shelter from the wind around here…”

Four middle-aged men entered the cave.

Aiden observed them closely, though he appeared indifferent.

“Go ahead.”

He agreed without protest.

Although he preferred solitude, he couldn’t avoid people forever, not if he intended to live this new life.

The men sat in a circle around the lamp, introducing themselves briefly.

The man with the warm demeanor was Carl.

The one with sharp eyes was Jaxen.

Aiden focused only on these two.

“Returning from a goblin subjugation?”

“Huh? How’d you guess?” Carl asked, wide-eyed.

“You smell like goblin blood.”

“But I washed up at the inn. Can you still smell it?”

Carl sniffed his clothes, puzzled.

“With a sensitive nose, you can pick it up. Goblin blood has a sour scent and is hard to wash off.”

“Then you must’ve figured out we’re mercenaries, too.”

Aiden nodded silently.

Rough skin.

Casual banter.

And the faint jingling sound from the sheaths on their belts, hidden under cloaks.

Identifying their profession was as easy as drinking soup.

“You’re not a noble, are you? We wouldn’t want to offend…”

“I’m just a commoner.”

“Phew, that’s a relief. You’ve got such a refined face, I almost mistook you for nobility.”

“If I were, I wouldn’t be sulking in a cave alone like this.”

“Fair point.”

Carl chuckled heartily.

Aiden conversed with Carl with surprising ease.

Assassins weren’t clueless about the world. Nor were they incapable of social interaction.

At least on the surface.

An assassin often knew more about people than ordinary folk and could mingle effortlessly.

Blending in was essential for approaching targets naturally.

Though, with his overwhelming strength now, he didn’t need such tactics.

“That’s an interesting lamp. It’s bright enough and gives off a nice warmth. What is it?”

Carl gestured at the lamp.

“Picked it up at an antique shop. Got lucky.”

“Ever think of selling it to me?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Wow, that’s a pretty firm no.”

“Where are you headed?” Aiden asked, changing the subject.

“My friends here are heading to the nearest mercenary guild, while I’m on my way back to my hometown. After this goblin hunt, I’ve decided to retire for good.”

The word “retirement” echoed particularly loudly.

Coincidentally, Aiden and Carl had found a point of commonality between them.

“What do you plan to do after you retire?”

“What else? Take it easy and relax.”

“How does one relax comfortably?”

“Hmm… Spend time with family and keep busy with simple hobbies. That’s how retirement usually goes.”

Carl’s answer only deepened Aiden’s sense of disconnection.

Aiden had no hometown.

If anything, his “home” was the Thieves Guild, but returning there was out of the question.

Aiden also had no family.

His parents had passed away from a plague when he was young.

As a result, the typical notions of life after retirement held no relevance for Aiden.

“Why so curious about retirement? Are you thinking of retiring too? You’ve got plenty of life ahead of you—time to earn lots of money and even experience some heart-racing love!”

Nudge, nudge!

Carl playfully nudged Aiden with his elbow.

The gesture, casual and familiar, surprisingly didn’t feel unpleasant.

“Well, I don’t really have anything I want to do.”

“What? A face like that and the energy of youth, and you have no dreams or desires? That’s unbelievable.”

“I can’t believe it either. Even to myself.”

The flow of their conversation, once seamless, came to a halt. A faint silence filled the cave.

Jaxen and two other men excused themselves, saying they were stepping out for a smoke.

Aiden watched their retreating figures intently.

*  *  *

A clearing not far from the cave.

Jaxen pulled out a cigar from his coat.

Striking a match, he lit the cigar, took a deep drag, and exhaled. His head grew light, and his body relaxed.

“Sir, are we really going through with the plan?”

“Why are you even asking? You’re not thinking of backing out now, are you?”

“No, it’s not that… It’s just that it doesn’t sit right with me.”

“Does your conscience put food on the table? For us, money always comes first.”

Jaxen formed a circle with his thumb and index finger—a universal gesture for money.

He and his two accomplices were plotting to kill Carl.

Carl, preparing for retirement, had converted all his savings into cash and carried it with him.

In other words, killing Carl meant an enormous payday. No strings attached.

“Still, isn’t killing him going a bit far? We’ve built some camaraderie over time.”

John’s voice rose slightly as he protested.

“Shh! Keep your voice down.”

“S-Sorry.”

“Killing him leaves no loose ends. Imagine word getting out that we betrayed him. Who would ever hire us again?”

“……”

“Not to mention, if he comes after us seeking revenge, it’ll be a bigger hassle.”

“……”

“And camaraderie? What camaraderie? Six months together at most, and we’ll never see each other again. What kind of bond is that?”

As Jaxen scolded him, John hung his head.

Though he was soft-hearted, John had no choice but to follow Jaxen’s lead.

Because…

He was deep in debt—gambling debts totaling over 50 gold.

“Still, do you think the three of us can take Carl down, even if we gang up on him?”

Peter asked a practical question.

“Heh heh heh. That’s why I prepared this.”

Jaxen pulled a small flask from his coat and shook it.

The whiskey inside sloshed audibly.

“One sip of this, and he won’t know what hit him.”

“You’ve planned everything. You should’ve told us earlier. Then we wouldn’t have been so nervous.”

“That’s why I called this meeting separately.”

“What about the young man? What’s the plan for him?”

“Naturally, this.”

Jaxen made a throat-slitting motion with his hand.

There could be no witnesses.

When they first entered the cave, Jaxen had been wary of the young man.

He worried the boy might interfere with their plans.

But after careful observation, Jaxen decided the boy didn’t pose much of a threat.

The boy had already admitted he wasn’t a noble, so killing him wouldn’t bring any significant consequences.

As far as Jaxen was concerned, the boy would have no choice but to blame his misfortune.

“I’ll take half, and the rest of you can split the other half. After all, I came up with the plan and handled the preparations.”

“Fair enough.”

“Understood, sir.”

As the scheming concluded, Jaxen clipped the end of his cigar with a cutter.

At that moment, he noticed a crow perched on a branch nearby.

Its eerie red eyes were fixed on him.

“Let’s go. Just act natural.”

Jaxen and his accomplices returned to the cave and took their seats opposite Carl.

But when Jaxen’s eyes met Aiden’s, a shiver ran down his spine.

For a moment, he could’ve sworn…

Aiden’s eyes glowed as red as the crow’s.

To be continued

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