[KARRIN]
"Everyone, including the doctor, was shocked when he said I was well enough to go home and recuperate. Just yesterday, he'd told me I'd be in the hospital for a week. But now, my recovery had accelerated—I almost felt like a medical marvel. My shoulders still ached, my right arm protested, and my head throbbed, but overall, I was okay.
After a day of bed rest, I finally convinced my brother to let me venture out. The agency called—they wanted to rehire me for another mission with L&P. As long as it wasn't that psycho devil king, I agreed. Boredom had set in anyway.
Outside the agency, Mr. James, the personal assistant to the chairman of L&P, pulled up in a car. His informality surprised me.
"'Ms. Agent Red?' he said, lowering the window.
'Yes, Mr. James, right?'
'Yup. Hop in.'
I raised an eyebrow. 'Why so informal?'
He cleared his throat. 'Please get in the car,' he corrected himself. I smirked and settled into the back seat.
He looked at me
'What?' I asked.
'You're sitting in the back...'
'And?'
'It makes me look like a driver...'
'And that's exactly the role you're playing right now, isn't it?' I retorted.
'Well, that also makes sense...' And he started driving the car.
.
We drove for about ten minutes, discussing my mission. Then he dropped the bombshell: 'I'll take you to Mr. Kelvin—at his house.'
'His house?'
'Yup. Comfortable with that?'
'Well, as long as there's coffee...'
We arrived at the mansion. The wrought-iron gates swung open, revealing a world beyond imagination. Ancient trees whispered forgotten tales, moss clung to stone statues, and an Hien garden house stood nestled among blooms. Time itself seemed woven into the place.
The scent of jasmine and earth enveloped me. Stone lanterns flickered like guardian spirits, koi swam lazily, and a wooden bridge beckoned. And then—the glass wall. Modern met ancient, and I stood at the intersection of eras.
Inside, the living room unfolded—a symphony of sleek lines and muted hues. Abstract art defied gravity, a grand piano stood proud, and the marble-framed fireplace crackled.
And there, the pièce de resistance: the TV wall. A seamless expanse of black glass, it held secrets. Chrome-and-leather armchairs invited lounging, and a coffee table etched with constellations cradled a crystal decanter of amber liquid.
I waited for some time, but nobody came. *Should I make coffee for myself?* I muttered. *No answer…I'll consider it a yes.* I smiled. Would it be okay to make coffee in someone else's house? Never mind. I put on my headphones, started my favorite song, and began brewing fresh coffee.
In shadows we whispered, our secrets entwined,
Promises broken, trust left behind.
Your eyes held deception, your touch a disguise,
And I danced with the devil, believing your lies.
You wore a mask of loyalty, a facade so complete,
But beneath it, a traitor's heart beat.
You played me like a pawn, moved me with ease,
And now I'm left bleeding, wounded by deceit.
Within a minute, it was ready. Still, no one had arrived.
The night echoes your treachery, a bitter refrain,
As I unravel the threads of love's sweet chain.
Betrayal, a poison seeping through my veins,
Leaving scars that ache with every passing rain.
*Where is the owner of this house?* I wondered. They were making me feel completely at home.
I took a sip from one cup—I'd prepared two, just in case someone showed up. But there was no sugar in the upper drawers. Probably, Mr. Kelvin didn't drink sweet coffee. I bent down to check the lower drawers, fully immersed in my song.
I'll sing this lament, a requiem for trust,
For you, the Judas who left me in the dust.
Not in this one. Let's check the next. I thought I heard a disturbance—probably my imagination. Or may be not. Suddenly, I felt a gun at my head.
But know this: I'll rise from the ashes you've sown,
Stronger, wiser, and no longer alone…I love these lines as if it is trying to make me remember something…something I am unable to remember
I removed headphones…
In normal circumstances, I'd have drawn my own gun, but my hand was still throbbing from the accident. So, I raised my hands and stood up , assessing the situation. I'd find the perfect opportunity to disarm him if needed.
I turned facing him
"Seriously…this is the second time," I muttered under my breath, realizing I was in the same predicament as before—déjà vu.
He raised an eyebrow. Why did I feel like he knew me?
And then Mr. James came running, stopping abruptly as he looked at both of us. "Why are you both here again?" he asked.
"Have we met before?" I inquired. Did he really recognize me?
"No," Mr. Kelvin replied, withdrawing his gun. No? He didn't resemble the picture my brother had shown me. Had my brother made a mistake?
"Well, I called her 'Mr. Kelvin' for negotiation," Mr. James explained.
"You were supposed to tell me, no?" Mr. Kelvin said to him.
"I did text you," Mr. James defended himself. Oh, right—my coffee?
I cleared my throat. "Umm…can you tell me where the sugar or toffee is? My coffee is getting cold."
I hesitated; it felt as if I'd been caught stealing.
"It's there," Mr. Kelvin pointed toward a corner drawer.
"Ah, okay." I took out the sugar and added a spoonful to one cup.
"Well, I don't think you drink coffee with sugar, right?" I asked him.
"No," he confirmed.
"Hmm…as expected," I said, passing Mr. Kelvin a cup, then settling down on the best-located couch. Mr. James looked at me, shocked.
"What?" I asked.
"You're sitting…" he stammered.
As if I didn't know. "Yes, I am sitting, and…"
"You are…" Mr. James was interrupted by Mr. Kelvin.
"Leave it," Mr. Kelvin said, moving to another chair to face me. Had I done something wrong? Who cared.
"Well, I guess you already know what I want you to do," he said.
"Yup, your assistant told me," I replied.
"Good…and you'll complete this task in…" he asked.
"In a month," I said, still looking at my coffee.
"Good. The faster, the better. But are you sure…"
"I'm pretty sure. Let's talk about my pay," I interrupted. My brother would be waiting for me.
"How much do you want?" he asked.
"You're asking me? Think again, Mr. Kelvin. I'm too expensive," I tilted my head toward him, warning him.
"Say it," he insisted.
"Hmm, this is rather risky work, not to mention I'll do it swiftly…50 million it is," I said, finishing my coffee.
"50 million?" Mr. James exclaimed, still standing. I'd warned them. But Mr. Kelvin raised his hand to stop Mr. James. "Alright, make it sixty," he agreed. That was surprising.
"Good. Thirty before and thirty after the task," I said, standing up.
"Okay…happy cooperation, Agent Red," he stood up too, extending his hand for a shake.
"Happy cooperation, Mr. Kelvin," I took his hand, shook it, and left.
I had a feeling this mission wouldn't be easy. But 60 million was worth it.