"You can stop flattering yourself—let's get down to business."
A raspy, deep voice cut through the room. Ronnel turned toward the woman with a sly grin.
His face, now unrecognizable, wore the features of the former shooter. There wasn't much choice—Ronnel was, after all, a champion of the Battle Olympia, making him a known figure in certain circles. While the average resident of the streets of Meteor City might not care, larger organizations like the Thousand Ears Association definitely had him on file.
Changing his appearance minimized the headaches that came with recognition.
"Since you're in such a rush, how about you tell me what you think of this?"
The woman lifted a finger, motioning toward a nearby corner.
"Skull," Ronnel replied smoothly, releasing his aura.
"Sharp instincts. Someone like you doesn't need the Thousand Ears Association to find work, huh?" she teased with a smirk, cigarette hanging from her lips.
"If anything, it feels like you're here to post a job request."
"Not quite," Ronnel said with a stiff smile. His disguised face remained locked in its practiced expression.
"I'm not here to apply for a job or to post a commission."
"Oh?"
"I'm here to see if I can join the Thousand Ears Club."
"Figured as much." The woman didn't seem surprised. She crushed the cigarette into the ashtray with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
"Unfortunately, we're not in desperate need of manpower right now."
"Really?" Ronnel kept up his smile, though it didn't soften the sharpness in his voice. "Even if you're not short on people, having skilled assets never hurts, does it?"
With that, he reached for the revolver at his side.
The woman watched with a calm but calculating gaze, her melancholic smile never wavering. Ronnel took aim at an abandoned building visible through the broken window.
Bang!
The gunshot reverberated, and a powerful burst of aura followed, smashing into the structure. The building crumbled with a thunderous crash, stones and wooden beams scattering across the street.
"How's that?" Ronnel asked, glancing at the eldest sister.
She chuckled, lighting a fresh cigarette. "I won't lie—talent like yours is always in demand. No organization would pass on a capable fighter."
Ronnel stayed silent, knowing the next line by heart.
"But," the woman exhaled, blowing smoke rings shaped by her aura, "we don't know anything about you. Your name, your abilities, your personality—nothing. We can't just let you join without proper vetting."
"So what's the plan?" Ronnel asked with a soft chuckle, catching the meaning between the lines.
"You'll need to take on a client commission and prove yourself," she explained, tilting her cigarette. "The client's feedback will determine whether you pass. Meanwhile, we'll run a background check to make sure you're not a threat."
"Sounds fair." Ronnel nodded.
"The job arrangements are simple." She typed something on the old computer beside her. "Usually, we assign recruits to guard wealthy families or prominent individuals. You do have a say, though—if you prefer a specific type of employer or location, you can let us know."
Ronnel pondered her words briefly. His thoughts drifted to others—Hanzo, Melody, Basho—who were undoubtedly navigating similar paths. He knew where he wanted to go.
(T/N: Melody is a Music Hunter and a bodyguard for the Nostrade Family. She is Prince Kacho Hui Guo Rou's former bodyguard.)
"Assign me to a family in Yorknew City. I want to be part of the underground auction."
The woman raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Yorknew? Well, that works out. I've got just the job for you."
She tapped the keyboard again, and a new screen popped up.
"The client is a firearms enthusiast. He's searching for a rare limited-edition Blue S55, serial number 001, made by Mijet. Rumor has it that the gun's being sold through the underground auction at Yorknew."
"Perfect." Ronnel nodded.
"Alright, I'll contact the client." She smiled knowingly. "What name should I put down?"
"Kay Taylor," Ronnel replied without hesitation.
"Mr. Taylor, it is." She typed quickly, her fingers dancing across the keyboard. After a brief pause, she continued, "The meeting will be at Leert Manor, five days from now at noon. You'll have plenty of time to prepare. I've registered your application through the Thousand Ears Association."
"Got it." Ronnel gave a slight nod of thanks.
"In the meantime, we'll be running our investigation to confirm your background," she added casually.
"If everything checks out and the client's happy, you'll officially become one of our peripheral members. Any questions?"
"None."
"Good." She took another drag from her cigarette. "If you don't receive a rejection call by then, just show up at the manor and introduce yourself."
"Understood."
Ronnel turned to leave, but the woman's voice stopped him in his tracks.
"One more thing, Mr. Taylor."
He glanced over his shoulder.
"Investigating someone like you takes a lot of effort. If, after all that, you back out—" Her voice hardened, her expression serious for the first time.
"We'll treat it as betrayal. And you know how we handle traitors."
Ronnel's smile remained frozen on his borrowed face. "No worries. I'm committed."
"Good." She exhaled a cloud of smoke. "All the best of luck to you, Mr. Taylor."
Ronnel gave a final nod. The man named Kay Taylor had long since been erased from this world—but his name would serve its purpose one last time.
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