Aldrian Franco.

Who was this guy? Why did he end up in Boss de Leon's crack house?

Looking at his lifeless body, I started to feel guilty, a feeling which I hadn't experience in years. I couldn't even remember what type of emotion that was. Was that even on my system? I did not know what exactly happened. I had been smacked in the heart—with an unknown sword coming from his almond eyes the moment I saw him in standing in that room. I felt like something has been wired in my entire body.

His dead eyes and blood-bathing body reminded me of how heartless I was—how monstrous I had become. He was not even a part of the plan. I was just instructed to give the weed to Mr. de Leon and kill him. Nothing more, nothing less.

But what could I do? I had to escape, to survive. He was the sole eyewitness of the crime I had committed.

For five years of being a hired killer, I never had any solid memory of having difficulty with my missions. They were all surprisingly easy. I had gone to the target's place, played along with a little while, lured them using my charm, and boom—killed the target. The hands of luck were always by my side. Everything had gone so smooth, until this. Just because of this stupid, reckless, little prick, I had another problem that needed to be fixed.

I also had no memories of my childhood. Having no parents, siblings or any family records, I was left alone with no identity. I didn't even have a picture of my younger self. However, one thing I could remember was I ended up with my mentor, Mr. Kim. He was more than a teacher I guess. For all I knew, he was the one who taught me everything about being a killer; the one who made the beast inside me, and I couldn't blame him for what he had done because he was the one who truly cared for me.

That's it. Enough with reminiscing about your dirty past, and start working.

Before the cops came snooping at this place, I should have hidden his body. But how could I? Throw him in the river and let him get bitten by animals? No. I guess not. How about put him in my car and burn him at home? Hmm, no! Definitely, no. I needed to do this here, not anywhere. Making up my mind, which had been a tough decision, I dashed into the party house, rummaged around, and luckily, I found a shovel in the backyard. Gripping it tightly, I ran back to the body.

I lifted him carefully as if we were newlyweds. I had removed his polo and wiped all the obvious blood patches on the ground. I made sure that his blood would not drip profusely on the ground. Damn, I looked so stupid! Doing that wouldn't guarantee my safety. Of course, there would be bloodstains left on the ground, and the detectives could confirm that the blood belonged to Aldrian. Goodness! I despise detectives. Nevertheless, the most important thing on my mind was to hid his body and escape. As long as no one saw me or could prove my presence on the crime scene, I would be safe.

Cleaning a crime scene was definitely not my thing.

I walked down the rocky, muddy trail going to the woods about a few meters away from the rice fields. I felt the heavy, slimy mud grappling my legs as I tottered continuously. Reaching the dark woods, I heard indistinct noises of animals and insects; the owls hooted, the crickets chirped, and the dogs howled. Thanks to the gibbous moon, I was able to see some portion of the forest grounds.

When I dropped his body slowly on the ground, I dug a wide pit for I didn't know how deep, making sure not any of his body parts would be exposed just in case it rained, and the soil eroded or something.

"Right. Let's end it here, Aldrian," I mumbled. Then, I held the shovel up to the air, mustering some strength and smacked him right into his face. The crisp sound of his facial bones broken made my nape hairs stood.

Afterward, I pushed his body to the pit and started covering his immediate grave with the soil I had gathered on the side. As I shove the soil into the pit, I gazed intently into every part of his body. When only his face was yet to be covered, I paused, breathing heavily. A few seconds later, I heard a soft, forced moan. Turning my head sideward, I tried to look for the moan's location. Is there someone out there? Perhaps another witness? Gritting my teeth and blinking my eyes quickly, I noticed that it was from the pit, down below. I looked down into it, and I saw his face—with patches of muddy soil, grimacing in pain. My eyes grew large when he spoke, his voice was almost inaudible, but it traveled into my ears. "Save me... Please, save me."

Shocked with what had happened, I rubbed my eyes hard and shook my head. "How could you... No. You cannot be alive. Aldrian Franco, just die!" I screamed, falling off—my butt thumped to the forest ground.

My mind shut down, darkness populating my entire head. I was not able to think straight at that time, for all I cared was to escape. Why was he still alive? He must be related to cats or something. I was furious, shrugging the guilt I had felt a while ago.

Aldrian Franco must die.

Without hesitation, I grabbed the shovel again and gathered my strength. With my trembling hands, I shove down the soil more and more, hearing the rumbling sound of the big piles of soil as they covered his entire face, his entire body, and eventually his grave. I screamed for how long I couldn't remember. When I got finished, I felt my whole energy was drained. I was panting so hard, and sweats came out profusely on every single pore of my body.

"You did good, Jyno. Certainly, he is dead. No need to worry," I uttered, tapping my chest.

I took the shovel, ran back into my car, and drove away from that horrendous nightmare.

~~•~~

When I got to my house, I quickly went to the shower to wash my whole body. The cold water nipped my skin, calming my nerves. After that, I went to the sink and washed my clothes. His blood lingered for too long. Just like him, his blood was very stubborn, leeching into every thread of my jacket and pants. An idea popped out to my mind. Cleaning the evidence was not enough. I had to do something. So then, I went outside my small backyard, with a small, empty water drum, a lighter, and a bottle of kerosene.

Stolen story; please report.

Burning my clothes and his clothes were necessary to get rid of any evidence. Although I knew this might not be enough, at least the possibility to be listed as one of the suspects would be reduced. As the black smoke from the drum clouded into the mid-air, I realized the severity of my sins. I knew for sure that I would have a throne for condemnation—where that would be, I completely didn't know. Seeing the blazing furnace, predating my denim jacket, tattered pants, and the boy's school polo, I bid my last farewell to the young, innocent boy who had to die just for me to be saved—I mean not like it was a heroic thing he did, but indirectly, it was.

~~•~~

Ironically, sleeping for the first thirty minutes was surprisingly easy. I thought I would have a hard time dozing off like I used to have every time I had killed somebody. The ironic thing actually was my head felt hypnotized the moment it pecked my fluffy pillows. For a span of minutes, I got drowned into the immeasurable abyss of an unknown realm of pure relaxation and calmness. Apparently, I thought it would last a lifetime, yet I was wrong.

Suddenly, I found myself riding in the backseat of a black SUV in the middle of the night, a woman who I couldn't identify beside me. She was caressing my hair, and I was smiling at her. Then, there was music out of the blue. The chauffeur hummed to Mariah Carey's Fantasy, and we followed. Honestly, I found it weird since I didn't listen to RnB songs.

Then there went the lyrics, "Images of rupture creep into me slowly, as you go into my head."

Before we could continue, we were struck by a flash of an intense beam of light coming on our way. The woman screamed...

Then, I woke up.

The beam of light was actually from the sun, reflecting in my window, pinching my eyes. I squinted to adjust my eyesight. I grabbed my phone on top a mini-closet beside my bed. Oh great! I just had 40 missed calls, and 28 text messages, all of those were from Mr. Kim. I didn't know that my strange dream took about almost 8 hours in the real world. It was 9 a.m. already.

My phone rang. Of course, it was Mr. Kim again, making his 41st attempt to call me. This time, he succeeded. When I answered the phone, I expected him to scream or reprimand me, but he didn't. His voice was undeniably calm, even calmer than before, which I found extremely strange.

"Where are you?" he asked.

I yawned; my voice was like a water buffalo mooing in the meadows. "At home. Why?"

"You fool. Come here right now. We have a very important thing to talk about."

"Okay. I'll be there." I sighed.

He didn't have to tell me all the details. I knew what this would be all about—the death of Aldrian Franco.

~~•~~

When I arrived at our hideout here in an abandoned warehouse, somewhere in Laguna, I saw guards shaking head, their eyes mocking me. I shrugged my shoulders, ignoring them. When the gate was opened, I entered and walked in the stone courtyard. I saw other sets of guards, bouncer-like physiques holding their rifles while guarding the area. Some even roamed around, checking every portion of the vicinity—steel gates with barbwire, tall, cemented fences with electric wires on top and a small garden area at the back of the warehouse. I cleared my throat upon reaching the entrance of the warehouse. There was this specific guard sitting at the table, who seemed to be an outlier among those I had seen a while ago. Standing five feet flat, the scrawny brunette with long, black beard scanned me head to foot. He always wore his leather jacket and jeans. Don't be fooled. He may seem like an ordinary, hermit-looking hag, but his grip was a match to the constriction of pythons. In a matter of seconds, he could break your bones like a twig, no matter how big you were.

"Hey Halas, how are you?" I grinned, raising my hand in a high-five.

He scoffed. "Mr. Kim seems unhappy. You better do your job right, Cuagoh."

"Okay, okay. Now, let me enter."

Shaking his head, he pressed a red button on the wall beside the wide, steel door. The door levered upward, opened. I walked slowly inside. It was pitch-black dark, and I couldn't see anything. Then, a hundred-inch television screen pinned by the wall turned on, showing Mr. Kim's avatar—a cartoonish figure with curly dreadlocks and a beige skin color. Then, the cyan incandescent lamps on the ceiling turned on.

My jaws gaped when I realized that I was not alone. I saw a group of guards standing in a full circle, surrounding me. The intense cyan light from the lamps flashing on their bodies.

"Jyno, report to me everything that happened to de Leon's crack house," Mr. Kim ordered.

Biting my lips, my hawkish eyes darted sideways. "Err, as you know, I have killed Boss de Leon... and err."

Damn! I was stuttering. I wasn't able to get the money because of Aldrian, that stupid prick.

"Is that all?" he asked.

"Yeah, that's all," I replied, looking down.

"Jyno, you are a terrible liar." he sniggered. All of a sudden, the screen turned black, and I noticed the deriding stares of the set of guards surrounding me.

A few seconds later, the screen turned on again, I saw a news report, about the crime I committed last night. There was a news anchor in a daily morning news show reporting about the murder incident in San Bartolome. The scene changed into an aerial view of the woods, then to a field reporter talking about the murder of a son of a business tycoon here in the Philippines. There were cops and detectives snooping around the same place where I stabbed Aldrian Franco to death. There was this yellow crime tape surrounding the perimeter, saying, "Do not enter."

Crime Forensic Officers, all in white laboratory gowns and boots were around the vicinity, rummaging for blood patches and probably swabs in the muddy ground. The scene jumped into an interview in a half-split screen, between the news anchor and the field reporter. I felt a slight static in my head, traveling from my ears up to the back of my head, but I still listened.

"So Steve, are there any leads about the suspect?"

"Yes Michael, there is one. Luckily, the suspect was captured in one of these surveillance cameras hidden above the light posts. As you can you, it was a man, standing around 6 feet tall, wearing a black denim jacket and tattered pants but in this shot, his face was hardly seen because of the side angle."

"Are there any other footage?"

"The police are trying their best to look for another footage. We are hoping for a better angle to have a better image of the suspect."

My eyes grew large, and my mouth was left dropping in extreme shock. Then, the scene changed into Mr. Kim's avatar again.

"What have you done, Cuagoh? Didn't you know who Aldrian Franco is?"

I was not able to answer him right away. I felt like my lungs were rejecting every particle of air I tried to breathe in. My heart felt like it was going to explode any minute. I had never felt extremely anxious and nervous before because those concepts were not even in my vocabulary.

"No. I didn't know him," I answered, my voice barely audible.

"I am very disappointed to you, Cuagoh. You are not like this. Whatever happened to a competent hitman I know? I just instructed you one simple job—Aldrian Franco is not included in your mission."

He paused for a while, then he continued, "Anyways, I have sent my men to take care of all the footage in the area. For now, you are safe; but know this, Aldrian's family won't take this case very lightly."

"What should I do then?"

"Are you going to follow all of my orders from now on?"

I didn't respond. I was still dumbfounded by the huge waves of what just happened.

"Aldrian's family is not an easy opponent... Dr. Lim, please enter," Mr. Kim said out of nowhere.

I got confused. Why did he call a doctor? The screen turned pitch black, and the guards broke the circle pattern. Suddenly, a woman, around mid-40s walked down towards me. She wore a white laboratory gown, grey pants, and a pair of flat shoes.

"Hello. I am Dr. Celine Lim. Nice to meet you, Jyno," she greeted. She smiled, offering her hand in a handshake.

I scanned her from head, down to her nameplate on her right chest. I was shocked when I read her nameplate fully, having a quite sense of trepidation. Then, the nameplate said,

"Celine Lim, M.D. Department of Plastic Surgery."