"Hm…"
Sitting at a luxury hotel room beyond any common thought, a single man lying on the bed humming a real off-pitch melody .
He's never been a focusing man, much less to remember everyone clearly beside his co-worker.
It's not like he's heartless or anything, it's just due to how his work require to be like that…
He has affinity with guns and other ranged weapons, and has become famous due to his ability to one shot any target, even without his eyesight. He used to be proud about that quirk of his, always mentioning it with a bright smile on his face…
Until the "others" also heard about it.
When he realized it, his family had already plummeted down to being beggars, as he and others struggled to help their family to deal with even their daily meals.
And during that darkest yet hopeless moment, is when someone approached him with a request… One that could save him for today, but ended the others in exchange.
Since then, he has been involved with the dark side of humanity, indulging his hands in blood just to survive.
With countless assasination mission in hand, given by even more people, he have to point his gun at countless victim, some are more innocent than the last…
And with that fact, guilt started to build up in his heart, to the point of him being unable to even see a red color even for a second.
And yet, despite such haunting trauma, he still has to continue to put his bullet in many more, all just to provide for his family. But in the end, albeit knowing that he must carry on for everyone else, he seems to give up completely on life.
One night in particular, after such a mission, he locked himself in the bath, hand holding a fruit knife and looking down the hot bathtub with empty eyes, devoid of anything particular.
The whole setup is clear, the boy who killed… wanted to commit one last kill, on himself.
He's been tired from all these killing things, he has sacrificed everything for his family… And now, after providing for his family almost single handedly, the boy… just wanted to rest.
He just wanted to be free, to not be tainted by others' blood, to be just a normal boy…
He's so tired of all this, he doesn't want to care about his family anymore…
… No one will convince his crumbled soul for the better, as the boy has already made up his mind.
Sitting down at the bathtub, he slowly moves the knife near his wrist, intended to make one last action he will ever do.
"Ya gonna kill ya'self like that?"
As the knife almost reached his wrist, it suddenly stopped in the track. Then, he slowly peeks his head up.
Reflected in his empty mind was just a doll with red hair floating just right above him, looking down at the boy with a distinguished look.
He doesn't know such dolls, nor does he own any of them, as he despises the sight of one since… he killed a young girl while she's playing with the dolls. Straight up blowing up her brains.
"…"
Remembering the horrified scenes, he doesn't express any particular expression as he's already tired of reacting toward them… He has long since passed away from being just a normal kid, who might throw up and be disgusted with just a sigh of blood…
"Looks terrible, mate."
The doll continues to provoke him, seemingly wanting to gain any attention from the boy. The boy, in exchange, didn't express any reaction toward it nor did anything, acting more of a living corpse than anything…
"… Why did I remember that back?"
Shaking his head to forget that memory, the one that he forgo long ago when he decided to do it for himself…
He turns on the TV and keeps switching channels to buy time, mostly because he doesn't have anything to do at the moment.
But while switching the channel, his mind still vaguely reminds him of the figure of a particular normal boy, who managed to outmaneuver him in every way earlier.
It's really hard to mention it, but the boy, who barely brought him any significant feeling from his mundane looks alone, has proven to be the hardest foe he ever faced against, truly written himself on his personal diary of his, The Adventure of Mark Twain.
So much so that he has to work with Lucy to take him away, which is against his own rule to fight his worthy foe one-on-one, as a sign of his truemanship.
"I wonder… what is the boy doing right now…?"
He started to wonder about the boy's situation with a hint of concern, one that he had already forgo a long time ago on that fateful night, where he has become what he is today…
"… I will surely honor your effort, little man."
With a faint smile, the silent talks to nothing with a slightly heavy heart, as he continues to switch channels aimlessly, while his two companions are just floating beside watching him carefully…
[Ring ~]
A familiar chime sound pierce through the boring atmosphere, as he quickly realizes that it belongs to his phone. Checking that the caller is the boss himself, he quickly accepts the phone and listens to the other side's command.
[Twain, come to the rooftop for dinner, cancel all your plan for tonight.]
With a short message, the boss calls off the call, leaving him behind in confusion. But still, as per the boss' order, he stood up from the bed and made his way out of the room, not even bothering to shut the TV or the lights down.
Walking through the hall that he started to memorize, he makes it to the big spiral staircase that leads to the rooftop, where he sees that other companions have already gathered there.
"Oh my, you got the call too, Twain?"
A noble yet straightforward voice coming from one of his colleagues to him, a beautiful woman dressed in a rather inconvenient dress wearing a sunhat, as her entire attire really demonstrated the "18th century noble" image of her.
"Well yes, Mrs.Mitchell ~ I take that no one knew it heh ~?"
"Hm… well, this would certainly be better than being around doing observation."
With a cheerful voice, he expressed his question with the others, as the girl just clicked her tongue in dissatisfaction.
"Don't you guys think… he invited us to dinner?"
Expressing his concern with a rather happy voice with Twain, is a young man with blonde hair, wearing a flat cap with white shirt, black belt and boots, which overall make him seem more of a farmer than a member of the biggest organization of North America.
"Eh?! For real?! The boss wants to have a meal with us ~?"
Twain, with an even more happy yet over exaggerated expression, saying out loud what he thinks by now and single handedly silent everyone in the hall with countless doubts now started to linger in everyone's mind.
"To invite all of us here with such a rash manner, he must've some other matter…"
Let out a sigh, is a neatly combed blond hair man wearing a slightly modified religious habit with a black coat on top, holding a Bible neatly in his hand, he speaks up his doubt with a rather quiet yet soothing voice.
"Indeed, I bear the same doubt as you, young man."
Response to the doubtful comment, is a man with a calming attitude, having a beard all over his face , holding a black jacket by his back, hand holding a wooden pipe.
"Whatever…"
Speaking in a boring voice, is a long black haired man with dead fish eyes, wearing a rather odd informal attire, with a long black cloak on top of it. He doesn't seem particularly involved in anything, as he just mumbling such nonsense words.
Everyone takes a faint look at him then immediately considers the option of going up there, not even trying to argue with the guy.
To them, the story of Fitzgerald, the man who always treated no more than his belonging, suddenly invites them for a dinner, is more astounding than being in a war with the ability users in this wretched land.
"Well… why don't we go up there already? After all, with almost all of us here, who would dare to trap us?"
The farmer attire man spoke up his idea with everyone, as each of them thought for a bit then reluctantly nodded.
After all, as the man said, each one of them is a skilled ability user, one that could dominate small troops by themselves. Even more so, since almost all of them are gathering here, ambushing them is close to non-existence.
Also, although all of them have a bad deal with the boss, the guy isn't a pushover in any way. Outside of his fortune, or would be better to say included, his battle capability can easily half of them in an instant if he decides to go all out, so the chances of him being threatened is even lower than them being ambushed.
With a new found confidence (mostly from their disgust against Fitzgerald), all of them then started to climb the stairs with a slightly cautious look.
"By the way, where's Alcott and Poe?"
While walking on the stairs, a certain energetic sniper questioned with a curious look.
"Come to think of it, I didn't see them around here."
The girl in noble attire also questions with a rather straight face, seemingly not really that interested in the duo.
"… Considering their personality, I would say they're busy fighting their fear of height right now."
The bearded man answered with a nonchalant voice, as Twain made a realization expression and knocked the fist in his palm.
All of them quickly reached the top floor and opened the only door leading to the main rooms, which also worked as a dinner room and kitchen, which kinda confused everyone the first time they're here. And as they entered the room, the first thing they saw was…
"Oh hey, hello there."
… A young unimpressive teenager cooking in the kitchen, with their boss sitting all the way on the other side of the room…