Three weeks—a tedious duration when dealing with stray jobs. As I ascended to the rooftop, meticulously chosen for its vantage point, contemplation about my time in this world consumed me. It had been three years since my transmigration.In my past life, I served as a special agent for Pakistan Intelligence. Special forces engagements and a reconnaissance sting in Russia defined my career. Assigned to eliminate a rogue agent, complications arose when KGB agents pursued me, culminating in a carpet bombing at the extraction point.

Positioned on the rooftop with my sniper rifle, the police cruiser transporting my target arrived. Calculating his movements, I focused on the countdown—three meters every four seconds. With the scope aligned and my breathing controlled, time slowed as I squeezed the trigger.The bullet found its mark, piercing his head as he dropped. Swiftly packing up, I surveyed the chaos below. Police scrambled, searching for the source of the shot. Jumping across rooftops, I cleared the block before his escorts called for backup.In a communal alley, my bike awaited. Speeding to the drop-off point, money secured, I left the area unnoticed.