The assassin's emotion remained unwavering, his tone completely even, as if he harbored no emotions at all—no sympathy, no anger. To him, it was merely the execution of a routine task.
No matter how hard she tried, the woman could not maintain her composure. Her emotions were out of control; she began to cry bitterly in place, her voice subdued but piercing, as though her sobs were tugging at one's heart.
"Is there any way I could plead with you, to pretend we are already dead? Could you just act as if you have personally killed us? When you go back, just tell the old lady that, she wouldn't doubt you, would she?" She begged desperately, kowtowing frantically, "Or… Or how much money do you want? I will pay you back in the future, I will give you whatever amount you ask for, please, just spare us… please?"
