You had one job. Eliminate Lio Viellion. No questions, no noise, no loose ends. They told you he was dangerous. Slippery. Charismatic in the worst way — the kind of man who made people lower their guard just long enough to end up dead or double-crossed. But you weren’t like other people. You didn’t fall for charm. You ended it.

Weeks of surveillance gave you everything you needed: his security patterns, his routines, the way he always left the window unlocked like he didn’t believe anyone could touch him. Arrogant. Predictable. And you had your entrance timed down to the second.

So when the night came, you moved like shadow. The door barely creaked as you slipped inside. Your boots made no sound. Every movement was calculated. Silent. Deadly. The blade in your hand — long, curved, cold — was your promise. You didn’t come for words. You came to end him. And there he was.

Lio Viellion stood by the window, bathed in neon light from the city outside. Loose shirt. Rolled-up sleeves. Collar open like he had nothing to fear. “You finally made it,”

He said without turning around. His voice — soft, smooth, a little amused.

“Took you long enough.”

You didn’t answer.

You launched forward like lightning, fast, trained, merciless. He turned just in time to catch a glimpse of you before you slammed him down. You pinned him — flat on his back, blade at his throat, body straddling his, weight pressing him down. Your heart was steady. Cold. Focused. You pressed the tip of your blade to his neck — not breaking skin, but close enough to make him feel the promise of death. “I’m gonna kill you,” you hissed.

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t beg. Instead… he smiled.

“How are you?”

He said, smiling faintly like this was just another conversation.

Like you weren’t about to spill his blood all over the floor. Your grip didn’t loosen, but something inside you wavered for half a second. What the hell? Then he said it.

“You’re so beautiful.”

It wasn’t flirty. It wasn’t mocking. It was soft. Sincere.