Chapter 105.
<strong>Chapter 105. Boxing Day: Fighting with your Life on the Line. (3/3)</strong>
<span style="font-weight:400">Contrary to my expectations, he didn’t show any visible anger at all and instead smiled like he thought my response humorous. He strengthened his grip on my wrists to the point I thought my bones would shatter.
<span style="font-weight:400">“You’d like to p my mother in the afterlife you say? It’s a shame she’s still alive.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“If she’s not avable, I’ll find your grandmother and p her in her daughter’s ce.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Hahahaha! Yes, yes, please do me that favor. I never did get along well with my grandmother and always thought she had a very ppable face.”
<span style="font-weight:400">What the hell is this guy’s problem? Do you get off to chatting with the guy you’re about to kill in cold blood?
<span style="font-weight:400">“Anyway, putting matters of pping aside, you didn’t answer my question.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Humans, have this thing called the fight or flight response, right? It became immediately obvious flight was not an option to me. Let’s say I tried to run away, you’re obviously much better built than me and could easily catch me. Even in the off chance I were to miraculously escape, you could just track me down again at any time in the future and I’d be back to square one.”
<span style="font-weight:400">I could have tried running to Rosa back in the car for help, but would I even make it that far? Probably not. My body was already exhausted from shopping all day. I didn’t have the stamina left to do anything. Everything in my body had been aching before the adrenaline had kicked in. It just wasn’t an option on the table for me in my current condition.
<span style="font-weight:400">Even if I somehow made it to her, she was with Irene’s family. I didn’t know what sort of man her father was. Would he mercilessly kill me in front of them anyway then kill them too for seeing it? Rather than take the chance to get them involved and have them die, it was better to fight for my own survival even if it meant killing Rosa’s father.
<span style="font-weight:400">Let’s say I tried to call Rosa to have her meet up halfway while I fled for my life, would I be given the leisure to do so by him? No.
<span style="font-weight:400">“Oh, your logic is certainly sound. But why not grovel, prostrate yourself, and beg for forgiveness to have your life spared? That’s another flight option avable, is it not?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“You’re an assassin, a cold-blooded killer who doesn’t know the meaning of the word mercy. There’s no chance you’d ever have your heart swayed by someone begging for their life. I’m sure you’ve had countless people beg for their lives up until now and have still ruthlessly taken their lives. You’re ustomed to such things by now. Completely numb to it even. Your eyes easily give that much away.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Certainly.” His eyes narrowed as he gazed at me with a sharp glint in his eyes.
<span style="font-weight:400">“Boy, would you like to be an assassin?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Hell no. Just stop talking rubbish and kill me now if that’s what you wanted to ask. I want a quiet peaceful life, not a pain in the ass one that will run me ragged into the ground.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“By the way…” he hesitated a bit.
<span style="font-weight:400">“What?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“... just how far have you gotten with my daughter?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“She’s quite docile in bed.” I wanted to piss him off a bit with my response, but his response left me baffled.
<span style="font-weight:400">“Oh, is that so?”
<span style="font-weight:400">He didn’t seem mad at all despite my words being intended to incite him.
<span style="font-weight:400">“Yes…” What is with this conversation before I die?
<span style="font-weight:400">“So you’ve done it then?”
<span style="font-weight:400">I let out a sigh, “Haaaah, are you worried about her purity as her father or something? I really wouldn’t have expected that from someone who should be a cold-blooded assassin.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Answer the question, you said she’s docile in bed, so how far did you get exactly?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Why are you so hung up on this? Does it even matter? If you want to know, just go ask your daughter or something.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“How far?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“You’re annoyingly persistent. Should assassins even talk this much to the person they’re about to kill?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Don’t question me. I’m the one asking the questions here. How far?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“I guess you could say just about everything before crossing the line.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Huh? Wait… you mean… you haven’t had sex yet?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“No,” I answered bluntly.
<span style="font-weight:400">“So… I don’t have a grandchild on the way yet?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“No.” What the hell is with this guy’s line of questioning?
<span style="font-weight:400">“Haaaaah. And here I was looking forward to a cute grandkid to dote on. What the hell? Apologize to me for getting my hopes up.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Huh? What do you mean?” I was left dumbfounded by his words that didn’t line up with my expectations.
<span style="font-weight:400">“Haaaah. My daughter is going to kill me because of you.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Wait, hold up. I’m having a hard time keeping up now. What do you mean? Aren’t you going to kill me? Why are you suddenly the one worrying about being killed by your daughter here?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“I wasn’t actually going to kill you. I just wanted to y a bit of a prank, but then… you went and did this.” He looked helplessly at my bleeding hand. Well, the blood wasn’t leaking out as much as before because of his tight grip on my wrist.
<span style="font-weight:400">He released my right hand and suddenly took out a long bandage from his pocket then started wrapping it tightly starting from my hand up my arm to limit the blood loss and stop the bleeding.
<span style="font-weight:400">“Uh… but you threw a knife at me to kill me. In what way is dying considered a prank?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“What? It’s quite amon prank among us assassins. It’s done to fresh graduates from the academy where young assassins are raised. We tie fine strings to the knife and stop it right before it actually enters their throats. It’s quite amusing to see their reactions, almost dying right after graduation only to survive in the end. You weren’t supposed to seriously try and block it with your hand, you idiot.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“That’s just awful! What are you going to do when someone seriously dies from this ridiculous and unreasonable prank?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“We’ll just bury them andugh it off as being their bad luck. If they were destined to die from something simple like that, then they would have died out in the field when trying toplete their first contract. We don’t need useless people to be assassins after all. Only the cream of the crop survives through the treacherous training.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Out of curiosity, when do people start attending this sort of academy?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“When they’re 18 and havepleted a normal education. Before attending academy they hone their bodies and skills on their own time.” They aren’t brought up from a young age forcefully, but rather willingly?
<span style="font-weight:400">“Then... will you be making your daughter attend it too?” I asked this to rify my line of reasoning.
<span style="font-weight:400">“Only if she wants to.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Huh? You’re not forcing her to go?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Nobody who attends is forced to. They attend and be professional full-fledged assassins of their own free will. If you force someone to be an assassin when they don’t want to, they’re just going to end up being useless in the end. Unless you sincerely want to do something, you’ll never truly be good at it. That’s how the academy goes about things.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Oh. I see. So it’s basically like university then.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Yeah, people are free to go if they want. If they don’t want to, they don’t have to.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“But is it not expected of an assassin''s child to attend? Do they not feel pressured into it by their fellow peers?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Of course, it’s quite simr to university for normal civilians like you. If they have the skills and talents required to be an assassin, fellow assassins typically expect that they will do so.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“I see. Do you expect your daughter to be an assassin too?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“I do expect her to…”
<span style="font-weight:400">I took careful note of his selection of words and rified, “Do you… want her to?”
<span style="font-weight:400">The man let out a helpless smile and said, “You’re quite sharp to pick up on the difference between expectations and what someone wants, aren’t you?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Meaning?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“What sort of father would want his precious cute daughter to go and be an assassin who could die at any point in time? I just want her to do what she wants. But… ever since she was young, she’s always been saying how she would work hard and be an assassin I could be proud of. She’s always had every intention to follow in my footsteps.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Since early childhood, she always obediently followed her mother and father, wherever we went, from country to country without ever voicing a singleint. However… when she turned 15, perhaps as if she’d entered a somewhat rebellious phase, she finally made a selfish request for the first time.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“She wanted to attend high school without constantly having to move from country to country and change schools, is that it?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Yes. It seems... something happened in herst year of middle school which made her want to experience a normal high school romance. To do so, she wanted to attend the same high school for three years. She said once she finished high school and was satisfied, she’d end her rtionship, attend the academy as she’d always intended to since there wasn’t anything else she knew how to do or wanted to do.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“I see. It seems we’ve gotten a bit sidetracked with this topic. So, you really aren’t going to kill me for proposing to your daughter?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“No, I’d never really kill my daughter’s boyfriend, er, no, fiancé now I suppose. I have no such desire to do so. Rather, I personally prefer you alive and around my daughter. I’d also hope you’d push her down and get married even faster.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“To give her a reason to not be an assassin and follow in your footsteps?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Haha… yes.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Well… I don’t think you really have to worry about that, to be honest.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“I… don’t? What do you mean?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Have you not talked to your daughter recently?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“No, I’ve been quite busy and haven’t had the chance.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Then I guess you don’t know.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Know what?”
<span style="font-weight:400">“She has something she wants to be. Something that isn’t an assassin that is.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“What? Really!” He stood up and firmly ced his hands on my shoulders with great excitement in his eyes. Looking at him right now, I could hardly believe he was the same man who was supposed to be a cold-blooded assassin.
<span style="font-weight:400">“Boy, if you’re lying to me, I will be very mad.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“I’m not lying. She wants to be a teacher.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“A… teacher? That girl? But her grades are… a bit…” Rosa’s father averted his eyes to the side, unable to say it.
<span style="font-weight:400">“She got the highest grades among first years for the final exams in the first semester.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“What! Who did? That stupid girl did? Why did nobody tell me in a report yet! Were they trying to keep it a surprise so my daughter could tell me herself?”
<span style="font-weight:400">Hey. Old man, don’t call your own daughter stupid.
<span style="font-weight:400">“I shit you not. It’s the truth. You can verify it yourself if you want.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“No… if you’re saying so much... I’ll just take your word for it. But... a teacher, huh? That’s quite unexpected. How’d that even happen?” He looked at me curiously.
<span style="font-weight:400">When the morally questionable scenes that led up to it shed through my mind, I awkwardly responded, “It’s a… long story.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“I see. I see. You should tell me about it sometime. I’d like to hear about it… but… we should really do something about your arm. You pulled out the knife and ended up losing a lot more blood as a result.”
<span style="font-weight:400">“Ah. Now that you mention it.” With the adrenaline that kicked in at the onset finally wearing off, I was assaulted by a sudden dizzy spell. I felt lightheaded and weak. Drowsy, the world felt like it was spinning.
<span style="font-weight:400">I raised my right hand over my forehead and staggered forward, losing strength in my knees.
<span style="font-weight:400">I felt short of breath. My heart was beating hard. The pain that I’d previously been numb to in my left hand which ran all the way up my arm returned.
<span style="font-weight:400">“Lie down. Haaaah. You’ll probably need a transfusion. My daughter is seriously going to kill me if I can’t fix this. I might need to go into hiding for a while until she cools down.”
<span style="font-weight:400">Those words were the final words I heard from Rosa’s father before I copsed onto the couch and lost consciousness.