"Rina! Dinner is ready!" a woman called out from below.
"Yes, Mom!"
I slid out of bed. My feet found my warm slippers, and I shuffled toward the bedroom door. The blizzard outside slammed violently against the roof and walls, rattling the wooden house like a wild beast trying to claw its way inside. The air was so cold it felt alive, creeping through the cracks and biting viciously at my skin. The floorboards groaned heavily under my weight as I headed for the stairs.
Step. Step. Step.
Halfway down, I stopped. I did not know why. The kitchen glowed with a warm, bright light. The rich smell of cooked chicken drifted up the stairwell, filling me with a sudden, fragile comfort.
But then the storm outside roared louder. The warm light flickered. Once. Twice.
And then came the darkness.
I could not see anything. I could not hear anything. Even the biting cold vanished completely. Everything familiar was erased, like I had been dropped into a void of absolute nothingness.
"RINA! GO BACK TO YOUR ROOM!"
That was Mom speaking. Was it not? The fragile courage I held a second ago shattered into dust. The sweet smell of roasted chicken instantly curdled into the heavy, copper stench of fresh blood.
"Mom?"
I turned back toward the stairs, but something stood at the top. Something I could not outrun even if I tried. I stumbled blindly down the last few steps in a panic, landing hard on the wooden floor. Sharp pain shot up my legs. I could not move a single muscle.
"Mom. Where are you?" I whispered into the dark.
The howl of the blizzard swallowed every sound in the house. But piercing through the storm, clear and rhythmic as a beating heart, came the heavy creak of footsteps.
Step. Step. Step.
The sound stopped right in front of my face. I forced myself to look up. Two pale, bare feet stood perfectly still on the wood.
"Rina. This is all your fault."
The voice belonged to her, but it lacked all warmth. It was completely hollow. I raised my terrified eyes higher. A brutally dismembered body loomed directly over me in the shadows.
"AH!"
Rina jolted violently upright with a scream, her lungs straining desperately for air. She gasped heavily.
Her heartbeat thundered against her ribs, beating so fast it caused physical pain in her chest. She clutched her shirt with trembling fingers, trying to forcibly steady her erratic pulse. Cold sweat rolled down her temples, dampening her blonde hair and soaking the heavy sheets tangled around her legs. For a long, suffocating moment, she could not tell if she was still trapped in the nightmare or finally awake. Only after several long, shaky breaths did the spinning room start to slow down.
"That dream again," she muttered. Deep frustration tightened her voice.
Her blue eyes flicked to the wooden desk. The red digital clock glared back at her in the dark. 7:07 AM.
"It is early. But I should prepare."
She forced her exhausted body to stand. Her legs felt incredibly heavy, but she moved with practiced discipline. She tugged the sheets back into place one by one until the bed looked perfectly whole again. Unlike her.
The cold tiles of the bathroom floor pressed sharply against her bare feet. She peeled off her damp clothes and twisted the shower handle. Boiling water crashed down, filling the tight space with thick, suffocating steam. For a brief moment, she closed her eyes and let herself completely sink into the burning sensation.
"I remember. I have a sister." Her voice was barely a whisper under the heavy spray of water. "But it is still entirely vague. Her hair was..."
A sudden, visceral pain stabbed directly behind her eyes.
"Ugh." She forcefully pressed the palm of her hand against her forehead, her face twisting into a grimace.
"I should ask Victor about my past," she breathed, the hot water dripping continuously from her chin. "I think I am old enough now." Her voice wavered slightly in the empty bathroom. "But I am still scared."
By the time she stepped out of the shower, the mirror was completely fogged over, reflecting only a blurred outline of her small frame. She dressed with absolute, clinical precision. She pulled on the formal Black Fang uniform, each black button and tactical strap tightening her deadpan composure permanently back into place. Standing in front of the mirror, she paused. Her golden hair clip caught the artificial light as she secured it firmly into her blonde hair.
"There."
She tugged on her tactical gloves, the dark leather fitting perfectly snug against her hands. The left glove shimmered with a faint, ethereal light, folding the surrounding space open to reveal her magical pocket. She glanced inside with a cold, calculating eye.
"Everything is there."
Rina closed the spatial tear with a fluid flick of her wrist. She drew a slow breath and stared directly into her own eyes in the mirror. Her gaze grew harder. Steadier. Completely flat.
"I should go down now."
Rina stepped out of the doorway and walked down the long, immaculate hallway of the syndicate headquarters. At the far end, the elevator waited. The digital indicator showed it was still crawling up from a much lower floor. She let out a long, heavy sigh.
She walked toward the steel doors, her measured footsteps echoing coldly on the polished tile. With an impatient, gloved finger, she tapped the call button. The light blinked red, but the wait dragged on in silence. Her boot heel began to tap a steady rhythm against the ground.
That was when a familiar, deeply annoying voice cut through the quiet corridor from her right side.
"Well, well. If it is not the so called city destroyer, up bright and early."
Rina did not even bother opening her eyes. She already knew exactly who the voice belonged to. A tall figure stood leaning casually against the concrete wall, a mocking, arrogant grin tugging at the corners of his lips. He wore the exact same tailored Black Fang suit. She let out another entirely apathetic sigh.
"Good morning, Dima," she muttered, her tone completely flat and devoid of all life.
Dima Volkov. The Winter Assassin. Global Rank. 5089. Dungeon Clears. Class B 320. Class A 90. Class S 1. Class SS 0. Class SSS 0.
The elevator doors finally slid open with a sharp ding. Both syndicate members stepped inside the steel box. Dima quickly jabbed the button for the ground floor. When Rina reached out her hand to press the exact same button, he let out a smug scoff.
"You know, you do not have to press it again if we are going to the exact same floor, right?"
Rina simply crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back against the metal rail. She kept her eyes completely shut, ignoring his existence entirely.
Dima watched her. His arrogant grin faltered, replaced by a flicker of pure annoyance.
"I already made the Global Rank list, you know," he mocked, leaning closer. "What about Morozov's little pet? Where is all that absolute genius I keep hearing about? Still struggling to even enter the registry?"
The insulting words hung heavy in the enclosed air, but Rina did not flinch. Her facial expression completely flatlined. She looked entirely bored as the elevator hummed smoothly downward. Dima tightly clenched his jaw, quickly realizing he was trying to taunt a brick wall.
The digital bell chimed. The steel doors slid open to reveal the bustling main lobby. They both stepped out into the open space.
Before Dima could take another confident step, Rina cracked a single blue eye open. She stared at him with an exhausting, heavy lidded gaze and tossed her words out like a precise, lethal blade.
"Just say you have a crush on me, dweeb."
His entire arrogant composure instantly shattered into pieces.
"WHAT?! Who the hell would ever..."
But by the time Dima managed to sputter out his flustered comeback, Rina was already halfway across the lobby, completely ignoring him as she approached the main reception desk to clock in.
"HEY!" he barked, stomping angrily after her.
The front desk clerk looked up as the assassin approached. "Good morning, Sir Dima," she greeted politely, before pausing with a deeply puzzled expression on her face. "But... Sir Victor summoned you to his personal office thirty minutes ago. Why are you still standing here?"
Dima completely froze in his tracks. His eyes widened in absolute, unfiltered horror, like the sky had just fallen on his head. Without saying another word, the Winter Assassin bolted frantically toward the emergency stairs, vanishing upward in a complete storm of panic.
The clerk blinked in silent confusion, then turned her professional smile back to Rina.
"Good morning, Ma'am Rina."
"Morning," Rina replied, her voice remaining as calm and flat as ever.
"A client has been waiting for you."
Rina slowly tilted her head. "A commission?"
The clerk simply nodded and pointed a polite hand toward the western corridor. "They are seated in the private meeting room."
Without asking a single further question, Rina turned and made her calculated way down the hall. She reached out and pushed the heavy wooden door open. Inside the quiet room, a stranger sat silently waiting in the dark.
Who is this?