A week later, Max and Nana sat in the audience, watching the grand unveiling of a new technological breakthrough: a service designed to extend human life. The excitement in the room buzzed as the crowd anticipated the announcement.
On stage, a woman stepped forward to demonstrate the power of this technology. Linda, the free-spirited host, introduced the volunteer with a calm yet enthusiastic tone. "This woman," Linda began, "survived a heart attack and was diagnosed with severe memory loss. After undergoing our procedure, she came back to life, rejuvenated, and is now able to live for another 100 years."
The crowd was stunned. Reporters immediately began to fire questions, eager to get more details about this miraculous development.
One reporter asked, "How can you ensure that this technology will be safe for everyone?"
Linda smiled and responded confidently, "With this technology, we have reached a point where aging and certain health conditions no longer stand in the way. It can extend life, allowing us to live healthier, longer, and more meaningful lives."
As the reporters continued with their questions, Linda added, "This breakthrough means that everyone, with the right application, will have the opportunity to live far beyond what we previously thought possible. The future is now."
Linda turned to the woman with a warm smile, encouraging her to share her experience. The woman took a deep breath, her eyes gleaming with gratitude. "I'm just so thankful to feel young again," she began, her voice shaking slightly. "I can move, breathe, and think clearly. I no longer feel like I'm trapped in my body. I… I don't have to stay in the aquarium anymore."
The room fell silent, and the air thickened with confusion. What did she mean by "the aquarium"? Linda, quick to regain control of the situation, raised a hand and spoke in a calm, reassuring tone. "There must be a technical malfunction. She's just waking up from a long procedure; these things can sometimes cause disorientation."
But Nana's mind wasn't focused on the crowd. She was already lost in thought, her heart racing as the words "stay in the aquarium" echoed in her mind. Her eyes glazed over, and a flood of memories came crashing back.
In a flashback, she saw the cold, sterile environment of a lab. The sharp smell of chemicals filled the air. She stood in a dark corner, hidden behind a glass panel, watching as scientists moved with eerie precision. One of them held a brain—her heart skipped a beat—and they carefully transferred it from one body to another. Nana's eyes widened in disbelief, the images flooding her mind faster than she could process them.
The room around her seemed to blur as she pieced it together. The aquarium… was it possible? Was she, too, a part of this twisted science? The thought overwhelmed her, and the rush of memories made it hard to breathe.
Suddenly, she couldn't stay in the room any longer. Her legs moved on their own, and before she knew it, Nana was stepping out into the cool air outside, gasping for a moment of clarity. The questions, the doubts, the fear… it was all too much for her to handle.
As Nana fled outside, Max's attention snapped back to Linda. His face was filled with concern as he dashed toward her. "Aunt, what's going on?" he asked, his voice urgent and tinged with confusion.
Linda quickly turned, her expression briefly betraying a flicker of anxiety before she masked it with her usual calm composure. "It's nothing, Max," she said, trying to sound reassuring. "Just a slight malfunction with the procedure. The volunteer is still adjusting, that's all."
Max, however, wasn't convinced. His eyes narrowed, noticing the way Linda's posture was a little too stiff, her usual confidence wavering. "But what did she mean by 'the aquarium'? What's happening, really?"
Linda's gaze flickered to the door Nana had just exited through, a quick flash of something unspoken passing between them. She took a deep breath before meeting Max's eyes again. "It's nothing you need to worry about," she said, though the unease in her voice made it clear there was more to the situation than she was letting on. "Let's focus on the launch, okay? We'll deal with this later."
Max hesitated, still unsure, but Linda's tone was firm, almost forcing him to drop the subject. He glanced at the door again, his heart pounding in his chest. Something was wrong, and he knew it. But for now, he had no choice but to stay where he was, even as the unease gnawed at him.
Nana stood outside, the cold air barely registering as she stared blankly at the city ahead. The recent flood of memories had shaken her to the core, but now a new, terrifying realization was beginning to take shape in her mind. The pieces were falling into place—those people on stage, the ones behind this technology, they weren't just part of some revolutionary project. They were the faces of a much darker scheme.
Her mind raced as she pieced together everything she had seen. The people who attended the launch—these so-called "sponsors"—weren't at all who they appeared to be. She had just received a confidential article, a piece of information that could expose everything. The article revealed the truth: the so-called philanthropists and investors were not just wealthy businessmen; most of them were ancient, near-death individuals who had used the very same technology to transfer their consciousness into younger, healthier bodies. These "sponsors" were living far beyond their years, their actual appearances hidden behind the faces of the bodies they had hijacked.
Nana's pulse quickened as she read further. These people weren't just wealthy investors. They were the orchestrators of a massive underground syndicate, using their immense wealth to fund the very project they had used to cheat death. They had bribed government officials, manipulated the system, and made sure that their operations were hidden behind the veil of a legal facade. The most disturbing part? They were targeting vulnerable children and young, healthy women to use as future vessels for their sickening operations.
Nana's stomach churned as the gravity of the situation settled in. She knew this couldn't continue. These people had to be stopped, or more innocent lives would be sacrificed. Their grip on the government and society was far too strong. If she didn't act now, more people would suffer. She couldn't allow them to keep using their power to enslave others, to create more bodies for their twisted purposes.
The mission ahead was clear. Nana needed to expose these people for what they truly were and dismantle their operation before they could kidnap more children and women. The challenge would be immense, but she couldn't stand by and watch any longer. It was time to take action—before it was too late.
Valentine Night
Beneath the dazzling lights of Valentine's night in Paris, the city seemed alive with love and laughter. But in the hidden underbelly of its charm, something sinister stirred. The Seine carried whispers of things unseen—shadows that thrived in the cold, away from the warmth of celebration.
In an abandoned chapel on the outskirts of the city, a circle of figures gathered. Their faces were hidden behind sleek cat masks, their black coats blending with the darkness that surrounded them. The silence was suffocating, but none of them needed words. This was Obsidian Veil, an elite group of assassins whose reputation painted fear across the hidden corridors of power.
Each member carried a polished samurai blade, as precise and deadly as their movements. Their hands spoke in gestures, swift and efficient, their communication honed by years of practice. Tonight's target was Lucien Devereux, a billionaire with secrets buried so deep, not even his fortune could protect him.
At the center of the group stood Nana, their leader. Her piercing gaze surveyed the room. Her mask reflected the faint moonlight streaming through a shattered window. Though she remained silent, the air around her buzzed with authority. No one questioned her, and no one dared to falter under her command.
The Hunt Begins
The streets of Paris whispered promises of love, but above the glittering cityscape, death had already begun its dance. The Obsidian Veil moved like ghosts along the rooftops, their footsteps inaudible even in the stillness of the night.
Devereux's skyscraper loomed ahead, a fortress of glass and steel. But no fortress could withstand them. Nana raised her hand, signaling the team to halt. A flick of her fingers divided them into pairs. They melted into the shadows, their movements seamless as they scaled the walls, avoiding the illuminated windows.
Inside, Devereux's office radiated opulence. A mahogany desk stood as the centerpiece, flanked by bookshelves filled with first editions. A decanter of whiskey sat untouched, its amber glow reflecting the soft light of a desk lamp. Devereux himself sat hunched over his desk, his face lit by the blue glow of a computer screen. Oblivious. Predictable.
The Silent Execution
The assassins infiltrated the office like a shadow passing over the moon. No alarms. No hesitation. Devereux finally noticed them when Nana stepped into the light.
The billionaire's face twisted in terror. "W-wait," he stammered, his voice trembling as he pushed back in his chair. "I can pay you—"
He reached for his desk drawer, fumbling for something, anything, to offer. His fingers brushed against papers, keys, but nothing that could save him now. "Please," he pleaded, desperation oozing from every pore. "You don't have to do this. I have connections, power—"
Nana's gaze hardened. "All your power couldn't stop what's coming for you. Not this time." Her voice was a razor's edge, final and resolute.
The assassins moved swiftly, erasing every trace of their presence. One wiped the blade clean while another uploaded a virus to Devereux's computer, erasing all evidence. In minutes, they were gone, leaving the office pristine, as if the billionaire had simply vanished.
Return to the Shadows
The assassins regrouped in their hidden base, an abandoned warehouse cloaked in darkness. Nana removed her mask, the cool air brushing against her skin. Her team dispersed silently, each retreating into the shadows, leaving her alone with her thoughts.
She stared into the faint glow of the Eiffel Tower on the horizon, her mind clouded by unease. Something about tonight didn't sit right. Devereux had been an easy target—too easy for someone of his caliber. The whispers of "Project 1940" echoed in her mind, a haunting reminder of the experiments she had escaped, only to see them resurface.
Nana clenched her fists. She would not let history repeat itself.
Nana stood in front of the large, cold window of the headquarters, her eyes locked on the dark skyline of Paris. It was the dead of night, and everything outside seemed still, except for the faint hum of distant traffic. She wasn't tired, not after the clean, efficient executions of the five targets. Her mind was already working, running through her next moves.
"Next mission, huh?" she murmured to herself, fingers tapping lightly on the edge of a table covered with maps and encrypted files. There was no room for hesitation. The Japanese ambassador—another target, another rich man hiding behind his power. But this time, the mission would take more than skill with a blade. The stakes were higher. She would need to infiltrate his circle without raising suspicion.
"Gather the team," she muttered, though her voice felt hollow, the emptiness of the life she'd led creeping in. She had become a machine, not just physically but in her soul, a weapon with no true master, only orders to follow.
As the team prepped for their new target, Nana couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something was wrong. She'd done these missions before, but now, the thrill of the kill had begun to feel like an empty routine. Each death was a transaction, another check on the list.
The next evening, she stood with the team, moving silently across the rooftops of Paris, the city sprawling out below them. The night was colder than usual, and the wind carried a strange scent—an omen, perhaps.
They entered the ambassador's estate as shadows, unseen and unheard, their movements synchronized. Each assassin was an extension of the other, their quiet efficiency making them nearly invisible to the world. Nana led the group with precision, her cold gaze scanning every corner of the building.
They caught the ambassador off-guard, just as they had with the others. In a swift, coordinated strike, he was neutralized before he could even grasp what was happening. The room was silent once more. Not a sound of struggle, not a cry for help.
But as the team began to move out, Nana's gut twisted. There was something wrong. The mission had been flawless, yet the feeling lingered, gnawing at her. What was she missing?
Next week, in Canada.
The hunt had begun.
Nana stepped off the plane at the busy airport in Canada, blending seamlessly with the crowd of tourists. Her attire was nothing out of the ordinary—a simple yet elegant ensemble that gave her an air of sophistication. Her body was concealed under layers of fake skin, a clever disguise that made her look just like any other woman walking through the terminal. The fake skin worked perfectly, masking her true identity and keeping her off anyone's radar.
Her movements were graceful, her posture impeccable. She walked with an air of quiet confidence, the kind that made it seem as though she belonged in this city—a traveler, a tourist, no one to notice. There was nothing about her that stood out. To anyone watching, Nana was just another pretty face lost among the thousands passing through the airport that day.
She checked in at a modest hotel in downtown, no need to draw attention. The lobby was busy but ordinary, and when she received her key, the receptionist didn't look at her twice. In her room, everything was neat and clean—perfect for a woman who needed to stay unnoticed. The soft white linens and the delicate scent of fresh flowers gave the room an air of comfort, an illusion of normality. But it wasn't home. It was just a stop along the way in a much bigger, more dangerous game.
Nana spent her first few days acclimating to her new environment. By day, she explored the streets of the city, walking the fine line between blending in and keeping a low profile. By night, she worked at the modest hotel, a cover she had taken up to get closer to her target. The hotel's quiet, unassuming nature made it an ideal meeting spot for the kind of men who operated in the shadows, and Nana had quickly learned that her instincts were correct.
The owner of the hotel, Damien, was a young man who wore his power like a second skin. His sharp features and piercing eyes could captivate a room, but there was something unsettling about him. He exuded charm when it suited him, but beneath the polished exterior lay a dangerous unpredictability. Nana caught his gaze more than once lingering on her, his expression a mix of admiration and possession.
One evening, after her shift, Damien approached her as she was cleaning a table in the hotel's dining area.
"You're different," he said, his voice low and smooth, sending a chill down her spine.
"Different how?" Nana replied, keeping her tone neutral, though her guard immediately went up.
"Elegant. Controlled." His eyes scanned her with a predatory intensity. "Like someone who doesn't belong here."
Nana suppressed the urge to tense. She had spent years perfecting the art of blending in, and yet Damien had seen right through her facade.
"Maybe I'm just good at my job," she said with a small, polite smile.
Damien chuckled, stepping closer. "But you intrigue me. Most people here are… predictable. But you? You're a mystery."
Before she could respond, a loud crash from the kitchen interrupted them. Damien's demeanor shifted instantly, his expression darkening. He snapped at the staff with a sudden, frightening authority, his voice cold and unforgiving. The staff scrambled to fix whatever had gone wrong, and Nana took the opportunity to slip away, her heart pounding.
A few nights later, the unsettling dynamic between them escalated. Damien cornered her in the hallway outside her room, his usually calm expression tinged with something darker.
"You're wasted in a place like this," he said, leaning against the wall. "I could give you something better. You'd be… invaluable by my side."
Nana felt her stomach twist. She knew this wasn't about admiration or respect—it was control. "I appreciate the offer, but I'm fine where I am," she said, her voice steady.
Damien smirked, stepping closer. "I wasn't asking."
The tension was suffocating, but Nana held her ground. "Goodnight, Damien," she said firmly, brushing past him and shutting the door to her room.
The next day, during her shift, she overheard a conversation between Damien and a shadowy figure in the hotel lobby. They spoke in hushed tones, but Nana's sharp ears caught fragments of their discussion.
"The experiment is almost ready," the man said. "We just need the final approval from… her."
Damien's response was too quiet for her to hear, but the mention of an experiment sent a jolt of alarm through her. She couldn't shake the feeling that she was at the center of something far more sinister than she had anticipated.
Later that evening, Damien stopped her again, this time as she was leaving for the night.
"You should join me for dinner tomorrow," he said, his tone making it clear it wasn't a suggestion.
Nana's mind raced. She needed to stay close to Damien to uncover the truth, but every interaction with him felt like walking a razor's edge.
"I'll think about it," she said, her voice carefully measured.
The following evening, Nana found herself reluctantly seated across from Damien in a private dining room of the hotel. The room was dimly lit, the flicker of candlelight casting shadows across the walls. Damien sat with an air of confidence, swirling a glass of wine in his hand as he studied her.
"Tell me," he began, breaking the silence, "what brought you here? A woman like you doesn't just stumble into a place like this without reason."
Nana took a sip of water, carefully composing her response. "Actually, I came here to study," she said, her tone casual yet deliberate.
Damien raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Study what, exactly?"
"History," she lied smoothly. "I've always been fascinated by the stories of the past—how people lived, the decisions they made, and how those choices shaped the world we live in."
He leaned back in his chair, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "And yet, here you are, working at a hotel instead of a university library."
Nana met his gaze evenly. "Studying doesn't pay the bills. Besides, I learn more from observing people than I ever could from books."
Damien chuckled, the sound low and almost predatory. "An interesting perspective. But I get the feeling you're not telling me everything."
"Maybe I like to keep some things to myself," she replied, her voice calm but firm.
For a moment, silence stretched between them, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Then Damien leaned forward, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You're a mystery, Nana. One I intend to solve."
Nana felt her pulse quicken but forced herself to remain composed. "Good luck with that," she said with a faint smile, then stood. "Thank you for the dinner invitation, but I have an early shift tomorrow."
She turned to leave, but his voice stopped her. "Nana."
She glanced over her shoulder, her expression unreadable.
"Be careful who you trust," he said, his tone laced with a quiet warning.
Without responding, she walked out of the room, her mind racing. Damien's words lingered in her thoughts, their ambiguity unsettling.