Chapter 82

After abruptly ending their encounter with the Doctor, Amon and Sonia headed to their lodgings.

While making their way to a luxury hotel in Paris, Sonia whispered to Amon, just loud enough for him to hear.

“What do you think of the Doctor?”

“As a boss?”

“Yeah.”

Amon shook his head.

“He’s a good person, but not boss material.”

“I agree.”

Clearly, the Doctor was a good person.

From Sonia’s perspective, he was someone you could trust and rely on.

Amon also had no objections to the Doctor’s integrity and trustworthiness.

But that didn’t mean he was suitable for the role of a boss.

‘It’s not just about having the right mindset.’

To keep a pharmaceutical company in check, one needed more than just trust—they needed competence.

Surely, the Doctor had accumulated enough knowledge and wisdom over his thousand-year lifespan.

But that knowledge and wisdom were relevant to his role as a doctor and a human, not necessarily to leading a company.

To put it bluntly, putting him in the boss’s seat could lead to misfortune for others.

At worst, it could pave the way to a hell disguised as goodwill.

Moreover…

“The Doctor said he’s not interested.”

They had already asked him directly, and he had declined.

Though they hadn’t explicitly asked if he was interested in a high position, when they hinted at it, the Doctor smiled and refused.

– “A relic of the times… no, I’ve decided not to say that anymore. I’ve let go of worldly attachments. I want to remain a doctor.”

If he didn’t want it, there was no point in forcing him.

Hearing Amon’s words, Sonia nodded regretfully.

“So, we’re back to square one.”

“Not exactly.”

Amon pulled a business card from his pocket.

“It wasn’t a waste of time.”

Amon held the card the Doctor had given him between his index and middle fingers.

<Kohen Ulrich Blacksmith Workshop – Representative Yotron>

Even if the Doctor was introverted, living for a thousand years inevitably led to forming connections.

According to the Doctor, this blacksmith workshop had been passed down for hundreds of years without ever “falling.”

Spiritually, of course, and technically, it had never faltered.

Of course, gaining power could change things, but…

– “That won’t happen. I guarantee it.”

With a thousand-year-old Doctor’s guarantee, it was trustworthy.

“Let’s go see this person tomorrow.”

With this lead, their meeting with the Doctor wasn’t a waste of time.

Amon tucked the card back into his pocket and continued walking.

The two quietly strolled through the streets of Paris.

Crossing the Seine River, they headed into an alley.

They each pulled pistols from their pockets.

“This should be enough.”

*Click!*

The sound of triggers being pulled and balloons deflating echoed.

Simultaneously, the shadows on either side of them collapsed.

*Thud.*

People camouflaged in black stains fell to the ground, creating puddles of blood.

Each had bullet holes in their necks and eyes.

“The eye? You’ve gotten sharper lately.”

“I’ve always fought with guns. If anything, you’re the impressive one. Did you have time to practice shooting?”

“I learned over someone’s shoulder.”

Exchanging trivial banter, they drew their weapons.

Amon held a pistol in his left hand and a sword in his right.

Sonia wielded an assault rifle.

Amon spoke to the shadows.

“If you don’t come out, we’ll come to you.”

As if responding to his words, the shadows stirred.

Soon, a group cloaked in black fabric emerged.

Looking at them, Sonia asked Amon,

“Miller Pharmaceuticals?”

“Doubt it. Doesn’t feel like it.”

It didn’t make sense logically.

Amon speculated…

“Might be a third party.”

“Out of nowhere?”

“There’s no such thing as coincidence. Most things have a cause.”

Amon adjusted his grip on the sword.

“I don’t know, but we can just ask them.”

With that, Amon disappeared.

“?!”

The attackers trembled slightly.

Where did he go?

Their eyes darted around.

Then, a chilling cold from above drew their gaze.

‘Above?’

Remembering Amon’s Sky Step, they aimed their weapons skyward.

But all they saw was a sword spinning toward them.

“Feint—”

*Thunk!*

A blade protruded from the thigh of what seemed to be a tanker.

The tanker, caught off guard, swung a dagger backward, but Amon leaped over his head.

In midair, he pulled the trigger twice toward the tanker’s shoulder.

But the bullets merely bounced off.

As expected, Amon wasn’t fazed.

In fact, it was part of his plan.

The bullets ricocheting off the tanker’s shoulder flew toward the faces of other attackers.

The subordinates, horrified, quickly turned their heads.

‘Impossible!’

Is this kind of skill even possible?

Of course, it was just their misconception.

Amon had only aimed for the ricochet, not calculating where the bullets would go.

It just didn’t matter since the tanker was in the middle of the group.

To a third party, however, Amon seemed like a monster who had even calculated that.

His feint with the sword and his elusive footwork solidified that image.

And that was exactly what Amon aimed for.

The more the enemy misjudged him, the more his strengths as an assassin were maximized.

The imbalance of information and his cunning were his weapons.

Amon sliced through the knee of one of the wary attackers.

“Aaaah!”

It was cleanly severed, like cutting through tofu.

The attacker’s gaze lowered with a scream.

Fear gripped the group.

Sonia didn’t miss the momentary freeze.

*Ratatatat!*

Her rapid fire destroyed the hands of four snipers.

In an instant, the tables had turned.

The prey they thought they were hunting were the predators.

The attackers’ morale crumbled.

Yet, they didn’t flee and stood their ground against Amon and Sonia.

The two subdued them without killing, more for information than anything else.

Given the vast difference in skill, it wasn’t a risky decision.

Soon, the group was completely subdued.

Most were left half-dead, missing limbs, but still breathing.

Amon approached the sprawled figures.

“So, care to tell us where you’re from…”

But before Amon could finish, the attackers bit down in unison.

They spat blood and stopped breathing.

“Suicide?”

Though their expressions were hidden under their cloaks, they likely wore satisfied smiles.

But they were mistaken about one thing.

“Phoenix.”

As Sonia muttered the word, a warm light enveloped them.

Their pupils shook as vitality returned to their bodies.

Even those waiting to bleed out were stunned to see their wounds stop bleeding.

Some quickly bit their tongues, but…

“Oh dear, you shouldn’t do that. You won’t go to heaven that way.”

With a cold remark, Amon grabbed their jaws.

In the end, they couldn’t even succeed in killing themselves.

Looking down at the fallen, Amon smiled warmly.

“Now, shall we start the conversation again?”

He straightened his clothes and attached something to his chest.

He lifted one of the attackers, propping the armless man against a wall.

Amon asked,

“First question. Where are you from?”

“…”

“Please, just tell us.”

“…”

“I’m a devout believer. I won’t torture or kill you. Just talk, and I’ll let you go.”

He meant it.

As a devout believer, Amon had no intention of harming the attackers further.

‘Who euthanizes a cat just because it hissed?’

Their attack was only that level of a threat.

The gap between Amon, Sonia, and them was vast.

They might rot in prison for life, but Amon had no intention of retaliating with torture or murder.

“See this cross? I swear on it, I won’t harm you. Just talk.”

Of course, Amon’s actions only backfired.

A man who cuts off limbs and talks about faith couldn’t be normal.

The fear they had forgotten resurfaced.

Moreover, Amon overlooked one fact.

That 80% of the world’s torture methods originated from religion.

The attackers’ mouths clamped shut even tighter.

Amon sighed in frustration and gave up cleanly.

Then, one of the attackers quietly asked,

“If I talk… will you protect me?”

Amon nodded eagerly.

“At the very least, I’ll guarantee your life.”

The attackers glared at the traitor, but he ignored their stares and spoke.

“Actually, we’re…”

“Don’t!”

“You madman!”

Their reactions puzzled Amon.

These people, unafraid of suicide, were afraid of something.

Something was off.

Immediately, sparks flew from their heads.

With a sizzling sound, the attackers convulsed, their eyes rolling back.

Smoke rose from their heads, accompanied by a burnt smell.

“Oops.”

Crispy on the outside, gooey on the inside—or rather, the opposite.

The attackers, now crispy inside and gooey outside, showed no further reaction.

The mysteries piled up.

‘Poison and electricity?’

Why prepare both?

They could’ve just used poison to kill themselves, so why prepare electricity, and why use it later?

It was a series of inexplicable actions.

Amon tilted his head and began collecting the bodies.

After finishing, Amon asked the body cam on his chest,

“Cash. Did you see anything?”

A voice came through the earpiece.

[It’s hard to see through the cam.]

“So, no leads?”

[Not entirely. There was some noise, but I saw something.]

On the other end, Cash caught her breath and said,

[It seems we’ve gotten caught up in a cold war between pharmaceutical companies.]

---