I was the top bounty thief in the organization. The best they had.

After turning in my final score, I announced on the spot that I was done for good.

Then, I stood in my studio, blending paint.

A single photograph was pinned to the wall before me.

Black Viper filled the doorway, the light behind him casting his face in shadow.

"What's it like," he asked quietly, "pretending to be an artist?"

He stepped further inside.

"Does paint smell better than blood?"

I placed the palette knife down and wiped my hands slowly. "I'm done. I walked away."

"Old Fox didn't approve of it."

"That's not my concern."

Black Viper crossed the room and tapped the old photograph on the wall.

"Are you certain?"

I did not want to look. I told myself not to.

However, my gaze shifted anyway.

A young boy stared back from the photo.

"The blind kid?" I had spent ten years searching for him.

"Where is he?"

I moved toward the wall, reaching to rip the picture down.

"One last job," Black Viper said, pressing his palm against the photo.

My hand stopped in midair.

"What's the target?"

"The final lot at next month's auction that the Gilbert Group will be holding.

"It's called Mermaid's Tear."

The Gilbert Group, with Bradley Gilbert at its helm, was a name that sent shivers down the spine of anyone in the city. He was known as the Reaper, a legend among both cops and criminals.

"You want me dead?" I asked.

"It's a tough job; that's why we came to you," Black Viper said before he then turned to leave.

"You've got a month to get ready. Oh, and Bradley's got a lady friend, Rosemary Baker. She's his Achilles' heel."

The door slammed shut.

I just stood there, my fingers instinctively curling around the beads I had always worn.

I had lived in what they called an orphanage for as long as I could remember, though it was nothing like the ones seen in storybooks.

All I knew was that I had to complete whatever dirty work the Handler threw at us if I wanted to eat.

Sometimes it was easy stuff, like stirring up trouble in a crowd.

Other times, it was tougher, like helping the older kids mug someone who was out alone.

Getting caught meant a brutal beating.

The kids who were broken beyond repair after those beatings ended up on the streets begging for change.

"The better you behave, the sooner you'll get adopted and have a full belly every day," the Handler would say.

So, we all hustled harder, dreaming of getting out.

Then, that blind kid showed up.

He could not do a thing, yet the caretakers fed him.

Those who failed the tasks went hungry, and soon enough, they were eyeing his meals.

The moment the caretaker left, the blind kid's food would vanish into thin air.

However, the kid never shed a tear or threw a tantrum. It was like he did not care about eating or anything else; the world meant nothing to him.

Three days later, I watched the kid lying there, not moving a muscle; his lips were cracked, his cheeks red with fever, and he was still whispering to himself.

If anyone got sick around there, no one would look after them.

I gave him a drink of water, and it was only when I got real close that I could make out what he kept mumbling.

"Revenge. I must get revenge..."

Back then, I did not even know what that meant. All I saw was the cool-looking beads hanging around the neck of the blind kid, and I figured I would snatch them. However, he fought me off, gripping those beads like they were his lifeline.

"No way; they're my mom's. She's gone now."

"I got you some water, and I'll throw in some bread. Just hand over the beads," I told him, looking right into those hollow eyes of his.

The kid stayed quiet, his fist tight, not giving an inch.

"How about two pieces of bread? Deal?" I asked.

All I got back was silence.

"Fine, three then, but that's as high as I'll go..."

I kept trying to trade my food for those beads, but he never budged.

Until one day, after everything went south, I got tossed into the room and beaten within an inch of my life.

The blind kid heard the noise and stumbled over to me.

He could not see, but the dampness on his hands and the stench of blood told him all he needed to know about the shape I was in.

I half-closed my eyes and watched him scurry around, trying to help me, tripping and getting up; soon enough, he was a mess of red and purple.

I knew I slightly liked that feeling, even though I was knocking on death's door.

After a while, the blind kid gave up searching, sat down next to me, and cradled my head in his lap.

"Are you going to die?" he asked, eyes wide open.

I could not talk; I just managed to scratch his palm with my finger.

"You're not allowed to die, got it?

"Here, take this. My mom will watch over you from up above." He pressed something round and still warm into my hand.

"As long as you stay alive, this will be yours one day. You've always wanted it, right?"

The bead was cool as it spun between my fingers.

It had been our companion through countless nights of suffering.

Eventually, I was the one who got 'adopted'; the other kids in the orphanage looked on with jealousy.

However, the little blind kid stood in front of me, brandishing the only weapon he had: a broken brick from the garden, refusing to let them take me away.

However, his defiance was like a mosquito trying to stop a giant. It did not take long before he was thrown to the ground, blood trickling from his mouth, yet he yelled out to me.

"Keep living! You have to keep living. I'll find you."

Curled up in pain, his blind eyes fixed in my direction, his forehead veins standing out starkly.

I could not grasp why he was so worked up.

All I could tell him was, "Look after yourself. When I make it, I'll come back for you."

As they led me away, I heard him call out, "What's your name?"

However, all he got in return was the whisper of dust settling back to the ground.

In that place, we were numbers, not names.

I ended up sold to a criminal ring, thrown into a vicious world where only the strongest survived.

They trained us in disguise, combat, firearms, and high-tech gadgetry.

Fail a mission, and I would not go hungry; I would just be waiting for death.

After surviving the cutthroat life of the syndicate, Old Fox started sending me on jobs.

I realized that the so-called orphanage was just a front for a human trafficking ring.

I rubbed the bead in my hand. The little blind kid must have known; that must be why he told me to live on after his failed attempt to save me.

Who was he, really? Where would he be?

Two days before a big job, I visited the Sunshine Welfare Home once more.

The sign out front was brand new, and the yard then boasted a swing set and a slide.

The first time I ventured out on a mission for the thieves' guild, I stumbled upon that place. It had already been taken over by the Gilbert Group and transformed into a genuine orphanage.

As expected, there was no news of the little blind kid.

A frail meow caught my attention. A tiny cat, huddled in the corner with a limp back leg, was painstakingly inching forward on its front paws.

Out of nowhere, rain began to fall, heavy drops pounding the pavement. The kitten squinted against the rain, determined to keep moving.

I slipped off my windbreaker and held it above the cat, shielding it from the relentless downpour. Soaked to the bone, I still held firm, providing a shelter for the little one.

"Survival of the fittest," a voice behind me said, deep and laced with sarcasm. "Even if you save it, it won't make it through the winter."

I did not look back, just kept standing in the rain, my coat a makeshift canopy, watching the kitten's struggle. "If it wants to live, it deserves a chance to grow."

Silence followed from behind, and I almost thought he had left. "Only the weak wait for chances to be given to them," the man said, his voice steady and tinged with indifference.

After getting the cat to safety under an awning, I stood up, rain streaming down from my hair. "Should you ever find yourself in trouble, don't count on anyone to help you."

No reply came. When I turned, all I saw was the back of a man getting into his car in the rain and a black umbrella dripping water on the corridor floor.

On the auction night, I slipped into the venue's air ducts three hours ahead of time.

Lying there, I peered down through the vent. Below me was a scene of opulence: crystal chandeliers and silk carpets.

My eyes roamed over the attendees, finally resting on a man in the front row.

Bradley. Clad in a black suit, he sat ramrod straight, his features sharp and unyielding, softening only when he spoke to the woman beside him.

That had to be the Rosemary the files had warned me about, Bradley's one vulnerability he could not afford to expose.

Below me, I caught snippets of hushed conversations.

"That's Rosemary, right? Rumor has it Mr. Gilbert spent over a decade looking for her. Found her three years ago, and now he's as protective of her as one would be of a precious jewel."

"Want to hear something juicier?"

The women eagerly nodded.

"Word on the street is, someone once snatched Rosemary to get at Bradley. By the next day, the ringleader was flayed and dumped on his kingpin's doorstep."

"Yeah, I heard that, too. Bradley went all out, unleashed hell to crush his enemies, and sent a clear message to the criminal world. The Gilbert Group took a beating, too. Since then, no one's dared to mess with Rosemary."

I glanced at Bradley's retreating figure as a strange sense of having been there before washed over me.

The auction kicked off.

I tuned out the early lots; my interest piqued only when the auctioneer's voice rose with anticipation.

"And now, the crown jewel of tonight's event: the Mermaid's Tear pink diamond!"

As the lights dimmed and a single spotlight shone on the stage, a pink diamond the size of a pigeon's egg emerged, casting enchanting lights around the room.

I inhaled sharply, my hand poised over the switch.

Three, two, one……

Darkness swallowed the room.

Screams pierced the air, panic spreading like wildfire.

I ripped off the vent cover and slid down silently.

The moment my feet touched down, I was already at the display.

Three seconds.

That was all it took to disable the security, the diamond's cold sensation settling in my palm.

Suddenly, an ear-splitting alarm shattered the silence.

I cursed those weight sensors.

Backup lights snapped on, bathing the venue in a stark, unforgiving glow.

The thud of metal echoed through the air: every exit had slammed shut at once.

"Think you can mess with the Gilbert Group's stuff and live to tell the tale?"

The man's voice boomed from the stage, icy as a blade fresh from the forge.

I craned my neck, and there stood Bradley, looking sharp in his suit, his eyes scanning the room like a hawk poised for the kill.

'Oh, no,' I thought.

I spun on my heels and bolted for the darkened emergency exit.

The sound of footsteps chased after me, growing louder. I had barely made it into the hallway when a sudden force whipped by my side.

By reflex, I dodged, feeling the rush of air as a fist narrowly missed my ear, the breeze it left behind stinging.

Bradley was blocking the exit; my escape route was gone.

Shrouded in darkness, I could not make out his face, but his swift movements had me stumbling backward in no time.

My wrist went numb, the dagger nearly slipping from my grasp.

That guy was unbelievably skilled.

"Just give it up, and I'll end it fast."

His tone was calm, but it dripped with deadly intent.

I gritted my teeth, knowing a head-on fight was a one-way ticket to the grave.

In the corner of my eye, I spotted Rosemary, huddled against the wall, her face ghostly white.

I faked a move and lunged for Rosemary.

"Big mistake!"

Bradley's shout cut through the air.

Too late.

I snatched Rosemary's wrist, pressing the dagger to the artery in her neck. The blade broke skin, a single drop of blood emerging.

Rosemary went rigid, her breath caught in her throat.

"Move," I growled, voice rough on purpose. "Or she's gone."

Bradley froze.

Even in the pitch black, where his face was hidden, I could feel the lethal aura radiating off him.

"Lay a finger on her, and you'll wish you were never born."

"Then, back off."

I edged backward toward the window, gripping Rosemary tightly, every step measured and deliberate. Bradley, wary of harming her, matched my cautious retreat.

Rosemary shivered in my embrace, her lips drained of color.

"Bradley... Please, save me..."

"Be quiet," I barked, cutting her off.

Reaching the window, I nudged the lock open with my foot, letting the cool night air rush in.

That was it.

With a swift move, I thrust Rosemary into Bradley's arms and triggered the smoke bomb.

A cloud of white smoke instantly enveloped the hallway as I vaulted through the window.

Bang!

The gunshot rang out behind me.

Pain seared through my arm as the bullet struck, but I hit the ground running, ignoring the throbbing wound, hobbling away as fast as I could.

Behind me, Bradley's furious voice thundered, "Get her!"

I bolted into an alley where a motorcycle was speeding my way. Summoning every ounce of strength left, I jumped on and tore off toward our hideout.

I slammed the door shut behind me and crumpled to the floor, breathless.

Blood oozed from my arm, but I had no time for that then.

I opened my hand to reveal the prize: a pink diamond, glinting with an otherworldly glow.

"It's here. Now talk," I said.

Old Fox, ever the cool customer, took the diamond, inspected it briefly in the light, and then pulled out a sealed dossier from his desk.

"Everything you need to know about your guy is right here."