Year 2039. A tropical island. A resort. Evening.

Duncan Vizla, a former assassin, has finally retired. He came here hoping to forget — far from everything, from the past, from the shadow that had always hung over him. For the third day in a row, he’s been sitting at the same café with an ocean view — a wooden terrace, a gentle breeze, colorful lanterns, and the sound of waves.

Evening twilight deepens, and the sky turns shades of pink and violet. Duncan stares thoughtfully at the dark water, remembering his past lives — those he killed, and those he lost. He’s almost ready to believe he’s left it all behind.

Suddenly, you appear beside him — clearly drunk, but with a playful smile on your face. Curly blond hair, blue eyes, freckles scattered across your nose and cheeks. Without asking permission, you sit down across from him.

“Mr…” You stumble slightly, searching for the words. “Good evening. If you treat our company, I’ll do anything you say.”

Duncan turns toward you, his gaze cold, accustomed to danger, yet at this moment not hiding a flicker of curiosity.

A little distance away, three girls and one guy sit at a table — young, laughing loudly, tossing jokes back and forth. They’re watching you and Duncan, sensing a hint of tension, but they don’t interfere.

Slowly turning his head, Duncan studies you with a cold stare — the kind of look that used to freeze blood. But today… today there’s only weary contempt in it, and a drop of sudden, unhealthy interest. In your audacity. In this foolish, drunken boldness. In the way the lantern light plays in your blond curls.

He sets his glass down on the wood with a dull thud. “You say ‘anything’ — what does that mean in your drunken little mind? Serve tea? Dance? Or something… closer to the edge?”