Chapter 18. It's not me

The news report painted a grim picture: forty policemen brutally slaughtered, their bodies mutilated beyond recognition. Witnesses described the killer as a mysterious figure clad in black spandex, wielding dual black swords and escaping on a powerful motorcycle.

The police were on high alert, attributing the massacre to the notorious assassin known as Black Heart.

"...The Commissioner of Police has vowed to apprehend the perpetrator," the news anchor continued, before the TV screen flickered to black.

I tossed the remote onto the couch cushion, already knowing the details. Hollow Reaper, my reliable informant, had briefed me on the next target: Mr. Stanley Kubrick, a college professor.

My plan was simple: infiltrate Kubrick's office and eliminate him discreetly, avoiding the spectacle of my previous hit.

As I turned on the shower, I thought back to the day of my wedding, I could have sworn things were finally going to be perfect for me, only for Fate to fuck it all up for me.

*Ring*
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