"This place is perfect. Now all I have to do is wait."

I sat on the edge of the rooftop, my legs dangling over the side, and watched the woman run towards me from the other end of the alley. There were about 300 meters between us, and she was sprinting straight in my direction. There was a police station just 500 meters to the right of that building. If she had run down the main road, she would have run into the police, but she chose to take a detour through the alleyways in a desperate attempt to lose me. Pathetic fool, she had made the last mistake of her life. Even if she had reached the police, I would have found a way to kill her and escape - no big deal for me.

The tracking line was shrinking rapidly, now down to about 100 meters.

"Hahaha... Poor thing. She thought she could escape me with that invisibility potion. I'll swallow her hope along with her soul."

As she passed underneath me, I jumped down. The small cracks that formed beneath me must have scared her half to death, for she flinched in mid-run and fell to the ground.

"Hello there. You didn't really think you could escape, did you?"

Her invisibility potion had been compromised, the dirt on her clothes now making her partially visible. But even if she had remained completely invisible, my eyes would still have seen her.

"You didn't really think you could hide from me or escape my eyes, did you?"

Damian grinned maliciously beneath his mask, relishing the situation. The woman had wet herself with fear. She was paralyzed, unable to move or scream. Her mind was screaming for her to run, but her body simply wouldn't respond - it couldn't.

Damian scanned his terrified prey. She had short blonde hair and brown eyes. Like her husband, she appeared to be in her fifties, about 1.6 meters tall and very slim. She wore black sweatpants and a yellowish T-shirt.

'What a shame that shirt will soon be stained with blood.' Damian thought.

He grabbed her by the hair and threw her about 30 meters down the alley. The woman flew through the air and slammed into the side of a building. Blood spurted from her mouth as she hit the wall. Four of her ribs were shattered, the rest were cracked, her right arm was broken and her right leg was fractured. She gasped for breath, but her broken ribs pierced her lungs and blood flooded her throat, suffocating her.

Damian approached her slowly, crouching down as he reached her. "You seem to be in pain. Would you like me to end it for you?"

"G-gurgh..." Her head slumped forward and a mouthful of blood spilled out. She no longer had the strength to even lift her head.

"K-kill... m-me."

"As you wish."

Damian put his sword down and unsheathed his claws.

"But I never said it would be painless."

He plunged his claws into her chest, grasping at her heart. Slowly he began to squeeze before finally ripping it from her chest. Holding it in his hand, he crushed it, the heart exploding in a bloody mess.

[You have absorbed the spirit of the target. You have notifications.]

Phew! Easy peasy lemon squeezy.

"Mission accomplished."

"Alright. After you change your clothes, see me."

"Understood."

Another fun mission had come to an end. Sure, I may have dragged it out a bit, but in the end, the result was the same - no problem.

Viuv! Viuv! Viuv!

"Shit, the cops are coming." I quickly scaled the building where I'd thrown the woman's body. About ten seconds after I reached the roof, a police car turned the corner, their car headlights illuminating the shredded corpse.

Two officers got out of the car.

"Goddamn it. Who... what kind of monster would do this?" The one on the left muttered to himself. The other officer pulled out his phone and made a call.

"Alright, my work here is done."

Jumping from rooftop to rooftop, I made my way home. Our house had a special floor for situations like this. The fifth floor - an isolated level, unreachable by any elevator. My father went down there almost every night to spend an hour or two planning. On lighter workdays, he sometimes stayed for hours. The only way in was through the windows, which seemed normal from the outside, but were in fact quite different.

After a few minutes of light jogging, I arrived home. I jumped towards the fifth-floor window, and just as I flew towards it, the window shimmered, allowing me to pass through without a sound or a crack.

The inside was dimly lit. In the distance, a soft light from an open room cast just enough glow to prevent complete darkness. I moved toward the light and turned right at the end of the hall, finding myself in a room that resembled a dressing room. Nine people turned their heads toward me, noticing my arrival.

"What are you staring at? Get back to work. Jeez!"

Seeing those masked idiots return to their tasks after I scolded them, I noticed something. The numbers on their masks were increasing clockwise, and I was at the end of that clock. I took off my mask, sat down, and took a deep breath. My hands instinctively went to my hair, but then something clicked in my head. Something was off. Why else would everyone be gathered? This had never happened since I joined the team.

Just then, the door at the end of the room opened and Alfred, my father's right-hand man, walked in. He was in his sixties, bald, with a white mustache and glasses, the perfect butler stereotype. To top it off, he always wore a suit. How could he be comfortable with that? He probably even slept in a suit at night.

Welcome, Young Master. Please change your clothes and come in' he said, nodding at me. I nodded back and Alfred turned to address the others. 'Please, all of you, come in as well. Everyone in the room nodded at the same time. Their synchronization was eerie. They were the Crimson Blades, an elite group of assassins under my father's command. Their only job was to carry out their missions. They never took off their masks, never spoke, and never disobeyed. Number One was the only exception. Although he never took off his mask, he did speak, unlike the others. He mostly gave orders or tactical advice - not very useful, to be honest.

I changed into the clothes prepared for me in my locker, knocked on the door, and entered. My father had designed this room to look exactly like his office. He was sitting in his chair, staring at me, his eyes practically burning with wrath. The other ten people in the room were also staring at me. The atmosphere was tense as if they were all ready to pounce on me.

I could take them all down, except my father, but it wasn't the time or place for a fight. I didn't want to argue or fight with my father. Gulping hard, I moved to the empty spot directly in front of my father. It felt like I was on trial - my father the judge, the others the jury, and me the accused.

"Congratulations. You completed your mission."

"Thank you Fa..."

"I did not give you permission to speak."

His voice, though calm and condescending, was contradicted by his actions. He slammed his hand on the table with such force that it sent shivers down my spine, even from where I stood. His gaze was piercing, as if he wanted to devour me whole. Sweat began to trickle down my forehead.

"There are already reports circulating online. For instance, 'Husband and wife brutally murdered.' Or how about 'A monster's savagery' - do you prefer that headline?"

He sighed deeply and continued, "I told you to handle this quickly, not tear them apart. You put us in this mess just to satisfy your twisted urges."

"But, Father..."

He shot up from his desk. "But what? What excuse are you going to offer this time?"

"'They don't know who did it. So it won't cause us any problems."

"Damian. Sometimes you think so brilliantly and sometimes you're a complete fool. Just because you weren't identified doesn't mean you can act recklessly. There's no reason to take unnecessary risks just to satisfy your selfish, bizarre tastes. You don't have the luxury to dilly-dally, understand?"

Ah, so that's what he was annoyed about. My "crazy" tendencies didn't matter to him in the slightest. He was only worried about how it might affect his affairs, how it might give his rivals an advantage. They were already suspicious of us, and if we were seen, he was afraid they'd finally have an advantage.

Heh, how pointless and unnecessary. Having an empire under your control must turn a man paranoid. My father, who analyzes every angle, surely couldn't have overlooked such a minor detail. It was time to reset his circuits.

"Father, I understand your concern. But think of it from another perspective. Don't my actions help to lessen suspicion on you?"

He sat down, hands clenched into fists. "Go on. What is this 'different' perspective?"

I was about to offend him a bit, hoping he wouldn't take it personally. He was starting to get on my nerves.

"Well, my assassinations have always been like this. So there's no need to get so worked up over it." I voiced sarcastic.

His eyebrow began to twitch.

"People who know you well, including your business rivals, understand what a perfectionist you are. You don't tolerate the slightest mistake or oversight."

That's also why he clashed with Uncle Damon. Uncle Damon was in charge of our pharmaceutical company, and the story probably went something like this:

Uncle Damon wanted to strengthen the company by using Alfred's skills, so he spoke with Maria and Donald secretly before anyone else and tried to recruit them. But considering how selfish and terrible a speaker he is, he couldn't close the deal. That's why my father threatened him.

Later, my father found out through spies that they were negotiating with Vincent Pharmant, and that's when he ordered their assassination. He couldn't risk them making deals behind our backs or spreading rumors about us. Because of Uncle Damon's mistake and my father's perfectionism, they were ripped apart by me - a truly unfortunate fate. But we could spin it to our advantage.

"Do you think a man like you would allow murders like mine, Father? While everyone else keeps things clean, I do the opposite. It makes it look like there's another killer, or perhaps a 'monster', in the city. Doesn't that at least take some of the suspicion off us?"

With every word I spoke, his hands slowly began to unclench and his eyes looked at me in disbelief.

"This..."

Hah, there you go. How does it feel to be outsmarted by the idiot you think I am? I almost wanted to punch him in the face, just to emphasize the point, but I stopped myself.

In truth, I wasn't doing these jobs to save my father's ass. Deep down, I was doing it to satisfy the 'monster' lurking inside me. But it just happened to be useful to my father's plans. He'd always nagged me about it, bit by bit, but now he'd let it all out at once. And now I could tell he was frustrated inside, knowing he was trying to suppress something beneficial to him. I just hoped he thought I was doing this to clear his name. Then my value in his eyes would skyrocket.

After what felt like a long, silent pause, he finally spoke again. "Impressive. Very impressive, my son."

Hehe. Everything is going just as I planned.

"From now on, I will no longer question your methods."

Excellent. Even Alfred the butler was looking at me with admiration. The nine 'colleagues' nearby must have been seething with jealousy. They still had to continue their silent, clean assassinations and would never receive this kind of praise. Hehehe.

Now all that was left was for him to apologize. Come on, Father, say you're sorry.

"Now, let's get back to the main topic."

What? Where's my apology? God damn it, apologize already. You just ruined my entire mood. Look at my face! Look at me.

He's not looking.

Tch.

He opened his inventory, pulled out a cube, placed it on the table, and pressed the button. The screen displayed the real subject of our conversation. At least I think so.