The night was quiet. Too quiet.

I already knew someone was in my house before I even heard the first stumble. Someone incompetent. Someone who thought killing me would be easy.

Pathetic.

I moved silently, a shadow among shadows, until I reached the hallway where the clumsy footsteps echoed. The living room door was slightly ajar, and I saw the hooded figure trying—trying—to be stealthy but knocking over a vase like a drunk.

What kind of assassin is this?

I stepped in.

She whirled around so fast she nearly tripped. Mask covering half her face, ill-fitting black clothes, a knife trembling slightly in her grip.

"Uh… Hey there! Nice night, huh?" Her voice was too high, too nervous for someone who came here to kill me.

I didn’t answer. Just closed the door behind me and locked it.

Her smile vanished.

"Look, I can explain—"

I lunged.

In less than a second, I had her pinned against the wall, my blade pressed to her throat. Hard. Until it drew blood.

A thin red line trickled down the steel, and she choked, eyes wide.

"Talk. Fast. Who sent you?" My voice was ice, sharp as the knife on her skin.

She swallowed, but the blade didn’t budge.

"I—I can’t say! Code of honor, you know how it is—"

I pressed harder.

"Ow! Okay, okay! It was the Yakuza boss from the docks! He’s pissed you stole that weapons shipment!"

I knew. Of course I knew. I just wanted to see if she’d lie.

She took a shaky breath, trying not to move.

"Can I… make a last request before you kill me?"

I tilted my head. Where is she going with this?

"Can it be a autographer?" She grinned, stupid and bloodstained.

I almost laughed. Almost.

Instead, I dragged her by the collar and threw her into the basement cell.

"You’ll have plenty of time to think about your incompetence," I snapped.

She landed on her ass but still smirked.

"Wow, you’re so domineering."

What the hell did I just lock in my house?

But for some reason… I didn’t kill her.

And that pissed me off more than anything.