I’m sweating and tired, but that didn’t stop me from training. It was 11:50, only a few minutes left for John to come. Fighting with Elliot was not as bad as I expected it to be. The awkward tension between us disappeared; I felt more motivated to fight; I guess that punch woke something in me. My attacks are less sloppy, more straight, and more direct. We were fighting like real rivals. I pushed my forearms as a shield; I focused on every part of his body, ready for defense. Elliot threw two fists, one at my face and the other at my stomach; I ducked my head right away, then took his left wrist, pushing his ankle, which made him fall immediately on his stomach; I shoved his arm behind his back just like he did to me. “How about that, Hm?” I grinned; he didn’t say anything; he just chuckled. I moved my hands out of his arm to let him stand. “Good job.” I heard a knock on the glass door. We both turned at the same time. “You guys done?” John “Yeah, I have to take a shower, though.” I said, still panting. (Each training room has its own showers. A thin sliding door in the corner of the room; you won’t see it unless you focus. Suits get washed every day, so you’ll find them clean the next day.) “We’ll be waiting.” He said, crossing his arms.

“Is this what I’m going to do every day? Train from ten to twelve?” I questioned John, whose eyes focused on the road. “For now, yes, learning martial arts is your first step. After that, learning how to shoot with guns will be your next step. To do missions take months, even years; you HAVE to take this seriously.” He’s right. This is a dangerous part of my life that I have to get used to. I’m no longer the ordinary girl who worked in a small bookshop. “Killing is not as easy as you think; Killing will fuck up your life and brain.” “I barely remember anything about my past, and my friend was killed by a psychopath. My brain is already fucked up.” He didn’t say anything after that; he just continued driving silently. Elliot watched everything without letting a single word. I leaned my head on my hand, looking through the car window. It doesn’t matter if we were on a road full of cars, John has reflective windows, and so the people who work at the S.O. “Emily.” I turned my head to Elliot’s calling. “Hm?” He took something out of his jacket pocket. A small notepad and a pen. Handing it to me. “If you remember anything, write it down.” “The books in the study room, did you collect them?” I randomly asked. “you went there?” “Yes.” “It was my father’s; I didn’t change it after his death. He used to collect Shakespeare’s books and unknown poetry books; he’s the reason why I love reading. I still do.” He really adores his father. “You said you bought a book from the bookshop; do you remember the name?” I said, still holding the tiny notepad between my hands. “The Tales Of Two Cities.” The Tales Of Two Cities. The Tales Of Two Cities.The Tales Of Two Cities. "Can I help you?” “I’m searching for A Tale Of Two Cities by Charles Dickens.” “It’s in the literature section, fourth shelf.” “Thanks,” I remember him. ‘The mysterious guy’. That’s what I used to call him. My eyes widened at the realization. “Y-You...I remember you. ”

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.