"Mr. Leader." From the shadows, a soft voice emerged. "May I inquire if you are carrying a firearm?"
The meeting room was dimly oppressive, a long table stretching across the space, with figures scattered unevenly.
On one side of the table, the leader, clad in a black suit, responded indifferently upon hearing the voice, "Given your request for a private conversation, carrying a firearm is inevitable, Kino."
The light focused, revealing the person seated across from the leader.
Kino, an exceedingly handsome youth, with features so delicately refined they could easily blur the line of gender. His hair shimmered faintly in the light, while the skin of his neck was as smooth as fine porcelain. His amber eyes were as beautiful as the sky at sunset, framed by lips as thin as the cherry blossoms of April.
Most of Kino's tendons had been deliberately severed, the chair beneath him stained with blood. He was bound in a heavy restraint suit, surrounded by chains, duct tape, and plastic ties wound repeatedly around him, leaving only his hands and head with the freedom to move slightly—just enough to drink water.
Despite his restrained condition, he still smiled, appearing harmless, yet every member of the council, including the leader, knew: this was a smiling demon.
In the underworld, there is no such thing as a "hitman."
To kill, the target must be human.
But to the "Artisans" of this world, they never viewed their targets as people; they were mere objects, crafted according to the employer's wishes.
For most Artisans, the skill of "quick processing" suffices, and the textbook definition is simple: one shot to the head, two shots to the chest.
Carbon-based lifeforms are that fragile.
Even if a few chosen ones manage to survive a bullet that doesn't completely destroy their brain or heart, a few more shots will certainly finish the job.
Quick processing is a skill that most Artisans possess.
Slow processing, however, is an art.
It involves reading Shakespeare's sonnets, admiring Berryman's artistic use of the human form, becoming lost in literature, immersed in music... transforming vessels filled with scarlet fluid into pristine porcelain, purged of their raw nature.
To master slow processing, one must first study art.
Kino was such an artist.
The leader looked at this artist before him, loosening his clasped hands and tapping his fingers on the table. "I fail to understand your actions from last week. Without any orders, you assassinated three of my council members, subjecting them to a brutal 72-hour slow processing. You must know, I do not tolerate bloodshed erupting from within, not even from myself."
"That is your principle, is it not? To maintain order and ensure that no fools who disrupt the internal balance remain alive?" Kino's amber eyes filled with a smile. "Like you, I too have my principles—I do not tolerate impolite people."
"You killed my three most capable council members, all over such a trivial matter?"
"It is a very serious matter."
"Do you fancy yourself elegant? To me, those who lack restraint are nothing more than beasts, or even mad dogs."
"Everyone is a beast. You, or I, we are simply wearing human skins."
The leader sneered, spreading his hands wide. "I am quite adept at restraint. I never stray from my principles."
Kino's smile remained like a mask, never wavering. "I have my doubts."
A figure seated to the right of the long table posed a question: "Kino, according to the timeline, you could have escaped the country—there are always sanctuaries that no organization can reach. Why then did you walk willingly into the organization's territory, only to be captured by us?"
This was not only his question, but the question of every other member, and of the leader himself.
Kino did not answer. Instead, he asked an unrelated question, "Mr. Leader, may I ask what time it is?"
The leader shrugged indifferently. "Is that a necessary inquiry?"
Kino nodded. "Of course."
The leader glanced at his watch. "It is 7:23 PM, local time."
Kino smiled. "Your lover has already returned home, waiting in the kitchen, preparing dinner for you, hasn't she?"
A cold, sharp glint appeared in the leader's eyes. No matter how ruthless his dealings were, he had never allowed his lover to know of these dark affairs. To her, he was nothing more than a kind and gentle husband.
A lover—an entity he would never allow anyone to encroach upon.
The leader's voice turned icy. "You should not have mentioned her. Traitor to the organization, assassinating council members, and referring to my lover in such a manner—all three will earn you slow processing lasting months."
Kino ignored the warning, his eyes still gleaming with something akin to expectation. "Shall we see?"
Begging for mercy could be ended with a single bullet, a reward for an Artisan's diligent work.
Provocation, however, would only result in excruciating torture.
The leader issued a command on the terminal, a decision representing the irreversible will of the highest authority.
The slow processing order was now in effect.
Kino was sentenced to a six-month period of slow processing.
During these six months, every Artisan involved in his execution would be required to ensure that he did not die prematurely, allowing him to endure every method of processing in full.
The leader had seen many traitors. No matter how cold-hearted or bloodthirsty they were, once captured by the organization and faced with the slow processing command, they would weaken, their legs giving way, reduced to tears.
These Artisans knew better than anyone the true magnificence and cruelty of slow processing.
Yet Kino seemed unfazed by what was to come. His handcuffed hands rested on the table, his fingers lightly tapping in rhythm.
To a person with an ear for music, it was immediately recognizable as the finale of Ludwig van Beethoven's greatest symphonic masterpiece—The Fourth Movement of the Ninth Symphony.
"Tap, tap, tap... tap, tap..."
For reasons unknown, the leader's irritation grew with each note. The melody seemed to possess some strange power, causing his heartbeat to quicken involuntarily.
"Bang." The door was suddenly thrown open, and several men in black appeared beside the leader, their faces ashen. They whispered something in his ear.
The leader's expression shattered, his composure crumbling as he grabbed his collar and screamed, "No, no, no... NO!!... My home... NO!!!"
The room fell into chaos. One of the men in black reported quietly to the assembly, "Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Leader has just received devastating news. A fire broke out at his residence under unknown circumstances, and there were no survivors. We share in his sorrow."
"Ha, hahahaha..." A cold laugh broke through the tension, freezing the room in place. Kino's amber eyes slowly lifted, watching the weeping leader, his smile unwavering. "A word of advice: gas pipelines in mountain villas tend to rust. They should be regularly maintained. Otherwise, even a minor fault in the circuit board could lead to catastrophe."
The leader, in a frenzy, lunged forward, his eyes wild, abandoning his usual lofty demeanor. He seized Kino by the hair, roaring, "Murderer!!! MURDERER!!!"
"Mr. Leader, do you enjoy reading novels?" Kino allowed the leader to pull at his hair, his gaze deep and voice as somber as the sea. "I am quite fond of Chekhov's work. He once said, 'If there is a gun introduced in the first act of a play, it must fire in the third act.'"
Before anyone could react, the leader, overcome with madness, drew his sidearm, aiming it at Kino with a ferocious shout.
A council member screamed, "The slow processing order has been given! It must not be violated! If you fire, you will break the organization's code—he wins!"
Tears streamed down the leader's face, his hand trembling violently around the gun. The warm memories of days spent with his lover flooded his mind, finally breaking his last thread of rationality.
"You see, I told you," Kino raised his handcuffed hands, fingers gently resting against his lips as he lifted them with a playful flourish, "Everyone is a beast. Don't be so serious, smile for me~"
"Bang!" The shot rang out, and blood splattered.
...
Darkness.
Not a glimmer of light.
[Transmitting physical data.....]
[Fatal damage detected, repairing in progress....]
In the darkness, Kino slowly opened his eyes. He reached up to touch his brow, finding no bullet hole, nor any sensation of blood upon his hand.
His amber eyes moved from side to side, the world around him shrouded in darkness. Yet, inexplicably, lines of glowing text began to materialize:
[Special talent detected, growth potential: SSS]
[Exclusive reincarnation ability awakened, the first mission must be completed to unlock further abilities]
Kino moved his eyes, noting that the text did not vanish with his gaze. He deduced that the words were not floating in the air but rather being directly presented through his visual nerves.
Kino: "Where am I?"
Two characters appeared before him:
[High Dimension]
Kino, with an air of nonchalance, inquired, "What do you want from me?"
[Do you wish to become a Reincarnator?]
"A Reincarnator? Oh~ you mean, like those stories online? Signing some contract, entering cinematic worlds, traversing realms, completing tasks to earn rewards, continuously strengthening oneself, and then conquering one plane after another, ultimately becoming the ruler of the world?" Kino's lips curled into a sarcastic smile, his tone playful, "So, no fresher gimmicks to offer?"
[Do you wish to understand the meaning of life? Do you wish to truly live?]
[Your physical body has perished. Sign the contract, and you will be reborn as a Reincarnator.]
[Do you wish to sign the contract?]
Kino couldn't help but chuckle, "It seems you've misunderstood something. The reason I was captured by them wasn't because I failed, but because I chose to."
"I realized the world I lived in was growing worse, and everyone had become so impolite. Sometimes, I would refine someone's shell into something more exquisite, hoping they might express some gratitude, but all I received in return were cries and curses."
"A world that lacks courtesy has grown dull to me. So, I decided to take my leave in a most interesting way, slipping into an eternal slumber."
"Courtesy is important to me. If you want me to do something, be polite, offer your reward, and I will consider it."
[Do you wish to sign the contract?]
A sly grin appeared in Kino's eyes, as though he were staring at the unseen figure writing these words: "I don't care whether you're a human, a ghost, the God of Reincarnation, or some so-called supreme being. You wake me from my slumber, offer no apology, and then make strange demands. I don't even know who you are. It's basic courtesy to introduce yourself before speaking, isn't it?"
"So, impolite one, you ask me if I want to live again, if I want to sign a contract? Very well, here's my answer."
"I refuse."