Light rain drizzled from the gray afternoon sky as 89 stepped out of the portal, carrying Arya on his back. The air was cold, damp with the scent of wet earth.and the soft drizzle soaked the ruined ground beneath them.
"Hey, wake up," 89 muttered, lightly shaking Arya.
Arya didn't respond. His body felt heavy, his mind blank. Then, a single drop of rain slipped from the sky, landing on his face. The cool sensation stirred something inside him. His fingers twitched, and slowly, his eyes fluttered open—only to be met with darkness.
At first, he thought his vision was still adjusting. But no—he couldn't see anything. Panic surged through him. I can't see…
His breathing quickened. He tried again, blinking, straining his eyes, but nothing changed. It wasn't just blurry—he was completely blind.
Why?
Then he realized—his black mask was gone. The mask that once granted him vision, that connected him to something far beyond himself, was no longer with him. In its place, a simple white mask covered his face.
His senses sharpened. He couldn't see, but he could feel. The rain, the presence of 89 nearby, the subtle shift in the air as something approached. He forced himself to stay calm.
"Hey, Arya," 89's voice broke through the sound of the rain. It was close, concerned.
Arya didn't answer immediately. His mind was still adjusting, trying to make sense of everything. Then, slowly, he recognized the voice. 89.
"You okay?" 89 asked again.
Arya hesitated, then nodded weakly. "Yeah… I think so." His voice was hoarse.
89 sighed in relief and pulled him up. "What happened in there? Where's the rest of the team?"
Arya touched his temple, feigning a headache. "I… I don't remember. The last thing I recall is a young man from another world..." His head throbbed, but the pain was nothing compared to the dread creeping in his chest. He couldn't let 89 know he was blind.
The rain picked up, falling harder now. 89 muttered, "We should get out of here before it gets worse."
Then, Arya sensed it.
A car. A black one. It came to a halt right in front of them. He couldn't see it, but he could hear the smooth purr of the engine, the low hum of the tires cutting through shallow puddles. Two doors opened simultaneously. Two men stepped out, one from each side. Their movements were sharp, disciplined.
The sound of polished shoes on wet ground.
A quiet click as an umbrella was unfurled.
Then, a third door opened. Someone else stepped out—calm, deliberate. Arya didn't need to see to know this man held authority.
"Congratulations on completing the mission."
The voice was smooth, practiced. Professional, but laced with something else. Something calculating.
Arya clenched his fists.
The manager.
He listened as the man stepped closer, shielded from the rain by his subordinate's umbrella.
"You're the only two who made it out alive," the manager continued.
89 responded first. "Yeah."
A short pause. Then, the manager spoke again. "We've attempted to close this portal before, but… it never worked. It's impressive that you two succeeded."
He took a step forward. "Before we discuss the details, I need to register your ranks and codenames for mission clearance."
"I'm an S-rank," 89 said without hesitation. "Code name: 89."
The manager hummed, as if unsurprised. "Of course. Only an S-rank could've survived."
Then, his attention turned to Arya.
"And you?"
Arya's fingers twitched. "E-rank," he answered.
Before he could say anything else, the manager scoffed. "An E-rank… survived an S-rank mission?" His tone wasn't even mocking—just sheer disbelief. "You're saying you lived, while high-rank assassins died?"
Arya said nothing.
He could already sense what the manager was thinking. He must've hidden somewhere. Maybe 89 carried him out.
"Code name?" the manager asked.
Arya exhaled. "Eight."
The manager went silent. Then, he let out a quiet chuckle. "Before we continue… I need a word with 89. Alone."
89 glanced at Arya, hesitated, but eventually followed.
Arya stood still, pretending to look in their direction. In reality, all he could do was rely on his senses.
He heard their footsteps.
The shift in weight.
Then, the manager's voice dropped to a whisper.
"What the hell are you doing?" His tone was sharp now, devoid of all professionalism. "You could've taken all the money for yourself. If you split it, you only get half."
Arya stiffened.
"We should've killed that E-ranker inside," the manager continued, voice lower, slick with greed. "But it's not too late."
He could hear the smirk in the man's voice.
"Kill him now. Take the money. No one will question it."
The rain fell harder.
Arya stood there, fists tightening. His heartbeat was slow, controlled.
So this was how it was going to be.
He might be blind. He might be lost. But if they thought he was weak—
They were dead wrong.
Manager smile widened. "And don't worry, just give me a little. I don't need much. You understand, right? Just a little money."
Arya was blind, but his senses had sharpened beyond human limits. He could hear every movement, every breath—every unspoken thought. The whispers of their minds flowed into his like an open book, their intentions laid bare before him.
When he listened to their conversation, he couldn't believe what he was hearing. The manager wanted 89 to kill him for money.
But the real question was—would 89 do it?
Arya clenched his fists. I don't have any power unless I accept the black mask... He knew that. He knew the mask would give him something far beyond his current abilities. But he also knew that power came with a price—one that demanded blood. I don't need it. Not now. For now, I only have my senses and this ability to read minds. That's enough.
Before he could think further, he heard 89's voice—firm and unwavering.
"I'm not like you." 89's tone was cold, filled with something unreadable. "I didn't come here for money. And listen carefully— if you so much as touch 8, I will kill you."
A sudden pressure filled the air. Arya felt it. The surge of power as 89's aura flared, a silent warning to the manager.
Arya listened, his mind processing everything. So 89 really is a kind person… but even he had doubts at first.
The manager flinched. His voice trembled slightly. "I-It's okay. If you don't want to, I won't force you."
But his mind said otherwise.
What a fool. I've never seen such a madman before. He had the perfect chance to take the money, yet he's throwing it away for some weak E-ranker.
Arya could hear it all. He remained silent, listening as 89 took a step closer.
"What are you thinking?" 89's voice was low and dangerous. "You understand, don't you? Or do I need to make you understand another way?"
The manager swallowed hard. "I-I understand." Fear seeped into his voice.
Arya smirked beneath his mask. Even without his sight, he could feel everything clearly.
The manager stood before Arya, his tone casual as he said, "Your prize money is 60 million NP."
Arya blinked, taken aback. 60 million NP? His heart skipped a beat. That amount of money could change everything. It could save his sister. It was more than he'd ever dreamed of.
The manager, noting Arya's surprise, added, "But, remember, after a few minutes, the system will transfer the funds directly to your account. And the prize money will be split 50/50. So, you and your partner will both get half."
Arya's expression shifted slightly, but the reality of the situation still didn't fully sink in. He'd never imagined such a reward.
Without waiting for a response, the manager turned and stepped toward the car. The two other men followed. The car's doors slammed shut, and in an instant, it began to drive away.
Arya stood there, staring after them, still in shock. 60 million NP. His hands trembled slightly as he thought of his sister—how this money could change her fate. It wasn't just a prize; it was a lifeline.