I've already said this isn't a life simulator!

Only one is allowed.

"I want to see someone."

Xi Wang pondered for a moment, then spoke.

"I would like to see a priest named [Enrique]."

She should still be around, Xi Wang thought.

"……no problem."

The young man did not hesitate for long and quickly agreed, as if Xi Wang's request was not unexpected.

"However, your injuries still need some treatment... Don't worry, as my employee, you have basic medical care. As for the person you want to see... I'll arrange it for you."

After taking another look at Xi Wang, the young man smiled with satisfaction, then snapped his fingers to signal the others to take Xi Wang to heal her wounds, adding that he had other matters to attend to.

"........."

Xi Wang stared at him for a while, but ultimately chose to follow his arrangement—he had no choice.

After resting for two days, the young man took Xi Wang out as promised, preparing to meet Father Enrique.

The location, as for the location, is a cemetery.

Chapter Ten: The Sweet Scent and Floral Fragrance in the Dead of Night

In the cemetery, you stare blankly at Father Henry's tombstone.

[While browsing the news, you find the report of Father Henry's passing a few days ago. According to the report, Father Henry died of a sudden heart attack, without even time to be resuscitated, and passed away so abruptly.]

As a man of some renown in the world, Father Henry's death naturally drew many mourners. Numerous dignitaries publicly expressed their regret and sorrow over his passing, and the news media devoted considerable space to introducing Father Henry's life, praising his character while also lamenting his departure.

Even in the final moments of his life, Father Enrique was still working tirelessly for a struggling church—when you see this sentence in the latter half of the article, you have a bad feeling.

[As expected, although the latter half of the article still recounts Father Henry's deeds, it keeps mentioning that church, as if Father Henry had some deep connection with it... This practice of always trying to make a quick buck, whether for fame or money, is disgusting.]

Furthermore, someone like Father Henry, unless specifically requested otherwise, should have his remains returned to the church and buried in the church cemetery, or transported back to his hometown to rest in peace. But now he lies in the cemetery of the same town as that church, which openly or subtly suggests to others that "Father Henry has some connection with this church." Do you think that if they could, they would even bury Father Henry directly in the cemetery behind that church?

Even though it was Father Henry's first time here, they described it to him as if it were his hometown.

This is truly disgusting.

Moreover, Father Henry did not "die of illness," but was "murdered"—the young man who brought you here told you the true cause of the priest's death.

When you asked him how he found out, he just smiled and remained silent.

You knew what he was trying to say, so you fell silent.

Seeing that you understood his meaning, the young man changed the subject and explained why Father Henry was killed... It was simply because he had come into contact with something shady, and the priest happened to have the ability to expose it while also possessing the credibility to make the world believe him.

[In order for the criminal business to continue operating, even Father Henry, who had some international renown, had to die.]

Of course, to save face for the church, the body will be preserved intact, but that's all.

The young man talked about many things, including his own admiration for people like Father Henry, some subtle words of advice to you, and details about how you went from being a prisoner to being their "expendable resource."

You don't care much about these things, and you're immune to those words of comfort, able to clearly discern their meaning.

Now you only regret asking him for help, which led to his current predicament. A piece of the reputation he built up through a lifetime of good deeds has been forcibly stolen by others, and he has even become a tool for others to make money.

You want to cry, to weep for Father Henry's passing, to confess your mistakes, and to apologize for causing him to suffer such a fate.

But you can't do it; your tears have already dried up in that place called a warehouse, but which is actually a prison.

You gently stroke the tombstone, as if in doing so you can reach the priest who wanted to help you, as if in doing so you can convey your apology to him.

You let go of many things, letting go of the idea that you could be saved, letting go of the intention to "cry for help," and your heart returned to its previous stillness. The ripples that had been stirred up again by that girl's arrival were gradually smoothed out.

Oh right... and her... that girl—Alicia, she's still alive... she's your only remaining hope.

You no longer crave salvation, nor do you expect her to save you. You only hope for her peace and safety... You only pray that you can hold tightly to that faint, hazy, and self-imagined glimmer of hope and expectation in your heart.

The young man beside you seemed to sense your thoughts and casually mentioned the information that "only the priest died."

You breathed a slight sigh of relief—this was already the best news for you.

Afterwards, the young man, having fulfilled his promise, took you back, and you officially began the rest of your life as a "sword".

Time flies. You cycled between training, resting, and missions. Almost in the blink of an eye, you went from a boy to a young man, and just as the young man who led you had guessed, you became the organization's best "sword."

[The killers are swift and precise; none of their missions have failed so far. They never ask who the target is, nor do they inquire "why," and they don't care about the details of the mission.]

[As long as you provide the information of "where, when, and who to kill," you can complete this mission without ever failing, even if the target is the leader of a country.]

[As a result of your "outstanding achievements," the organization has expanded significantly, established connections with many special forces, acquired more clients with unique identities, and gradually changed its original structural framework, becoming more standardized.]

[It was during this continuous expansion that the organization acquired its own name—Poison Chrysalis, and you were its sharpest "knife," the "golden signboard" of Poison Chrysalis.]

[You are usually taciturn, and apart from occasionally wandering aimlessly during your breaks, you have no entertainment and no special hobbies, as if you are just a killing machine.]

[Hmm... well, you can't say that. After all, you really like candy, especially star-shaped ones. You really like this shape of candy, which is a consensus among the others in the Poison Chrysalis, and it's the only preference that no one else knows about you.]

Of course, since you've put in so much effort for the Poison Chrysalis, it's only natural that the Poison Chrysalis will reward you. The most obvious way is by giving you some "privileges," such as longer vacations and more generous reimbursement limits.

[And in your view, the best reward the Poison Chrysalis could give you is that it's willing to provide you with information on "those guys"—the same guys behind the priest who tortured you back then.]

Only after truly understanding the complex interests behind it can one realize just how intricate the relationships are and how vast the entire interest group is.

So far, you have killed hundreds of people connected to this group, but you have only uncovered a small part of this vested interest group.

[You can't kill them all, you simply can't kill them all. There are always people joining this group. The person you kill might be replaced by a new one the next day. This "industrial chain" will never suddenly stop because of the absence of someone.]

What you've done is just a drop in the ocean... but even so, you'll still do it.

Because this is the only thing you "want to do" right now.

----------

At night, the bustling city is brightly lit, and the streets are crowded with people. Even the late hour cannot dampen people's enthusiasm. Playful children whine and beg their parents to let them "play a little longer." Intimate couples rush to watch a late-night movie, laughing and discussing whether they should have a late-night snack after the movie. Employees working the night shift sigh and wonder if they should switch shifts with their colleagues next time they work the night shift.

In this bustling place stands a super-tall building that can be described as a "landmark." The lower level is a place for people to play and shop, the middle level is a hotel with exorbitant prices that put it out of reach for ordinary people, and the upper level... well, nobody knows about that.

It's probably some company's office building—that's what most people guessed.

Perhaps it's someone's private garden; after all, rich people like to do that—some people joked.

Unfortunately, this small group of people were right; this place is indeed a "courtyard" for a wealthy person, or rather, a group of wealthy people.

If you were to enter one of the floors of the "courtyard," you would be shocked by the lavish decorations, the piles of expensive wines and spirits on the shelves, the numerous delicacies, the young men and women walking around in alluring clothes, and the obscene sounds faintly emanating from various booths and corners. If you were to enter some special rooms, you might see even more "stimulating" scenes, or be overwhelmed by certain strong and pungent smells, such as blood or something else.

They have fun here, they revel here, and they indulge their desires here.

Don't worry about your ugly desires being disgusted and ridiculed by others—because others have similar ones.

Don't worry about how outlandish your proposed "game" is—because others are also very interested.

And there's no need to worry about whether what they're doing here constitutes a "crime"—although the answer to that question is obviously "yes," they won't get arrested, will they?

They fully express their "true selves," going further and further in pursuit of ultimate pleasure, day after day, night after night.

Of course, even so, they were still not satisfied, after all, this place... was too small and could no longer satisfy them.

However, they were not worried, since they had already contacted "those guys" and had the authority to set foot on that "island".

There they can unleash themselves more freely, do more... no, do anything they want.

As for the fact that their happiness is built on hurting others... what does it matter? They're paid for it!

While directing the boys and girls... no, I should say "toys," instructing them to undress and strike awkward or shameful poses, they fantasized about having more room to maneuver when they arrived at the "island."

But today...

"By the way, did anyone here change the air freshener?"

One of them twitched his nose twice, asked with a smile, and pulled over a handsome young man dressed in women's clothing.

Yes, it's definitely a young man.

"It has a faint floral scent and a sweet taste... To be honest, it's pretty good. I'll get one for my room too?"

"Hey~ You know what, I just realized it too, this tastes really good."

"No one here seems to have made such a request... Maybe the person in charge changed it himself? You can go ask him for it later."

The others didn't seem to care much about it and just gave casual responses.

"Okay, I'll ask him for it later."

The person who spoke first smiled and nodded, greeted his companion, and then led the handsome young man to his room.

Pushing open the door revealed an interior that wasn't much different from that of a high-end hotel—which was to be expected, since he was different from others and didn't have that kind of bloody or disgusting taste.

He simply enjoys "experiencing different kinds of people," whether they are boys or girls, 4 or 40 years old, he doesn't care... In short, he has a wide range of sexual desires.

"Alright, go lie down."

He patted the boy's pert buttocks lightly, said casually, and then took off his clothes and went into the bathroom to take a shower first.

When he came out again, he found that the boy had already fallen asleep on the bed.

"Seriously, do I really have to do it all by myself this time?"

He frowned, somewhat displeased, but then he thought that sleeping with someone might not be so bad, and might even be more interesting.

The room temperature was adjusted to a comfortable level by the air conditioner, and soothing music played from a speaker hidden somewhere. A sweet aromatherapy scent filled the room, and a handsome young man lay fast asleep on the bed, dressed in revealing clothes, completely oblivious to his surroundings…

Ahhh, I can't take it anymore! I'm [voluntarily avoiding] it!

Just as he was excitedly preparing to begin, he suddenly felt a sharp pain in the back of his neck, and his body below the neck seemed to suddenly lose all sensation. He collapsed limply onto the bed.

……Eh?

He was still a little dazed, not knowing what had happened. It wasn't until the pure white bed was stained red and he smelled blood in his nose that he realized why he was like this.

He was killed... killed in a mere moment of distraction.

The other person entered his room without him noticing, then silently appeared behind him and killed him.

Who could it be? Which guy could it be? I haven't messed with anyone lately!

He tried hard to recall, trying to get his mind working, but unfortunately his body couldn't support him. His pupils gradually dilated, his thoughts gradually stagnated, and finally he was forever frozen in that blankness.

The smell of blood gradually spread throughout the room, eventually mixing with a sweet, aromatherapy-like scent.

"pat-"