🎶 Jim Yosef - Hate You

There are many causes for a person's death. Solitary death, natural death, sudden death, accidental death, death during intercourse. Suicide, where one gives up on life and ends it themselves. Homicide, where one acts so wretchedly that someone eventually takes their life.

Still, I didn't think it was so bad for a human-made life to be ended by a human hand. After all, that too would eventually be a natural order of things.

But isn't the way the world works quite funny?

No matter how great a reputation you build, how much power you wield, how much money you touch, or how many people you boss around, you still end up in a coffin when you die. The only difference is whether the final remains are high-end hardwood or cheap sawdust.

And yet, everyone struggles. To survive just a little longer. To succeed just a little more.

You only live once. If you die after touching, controlling, and spending plenty of money, isn't that a successful life? That was my conviction. Money over life. I'll do anything for money.

Then one day, a somewhat suspicious request came in.

In this business, clients rarely make direct contact. Let's call it an unspoken rule. There's no reason for people who do unethical things to face each other and talk.

But this client requested a meeting from the start. Meeting, my foot. They put in a hit and want to see who's doing the killing in person? What a disgusting, twisted taste. Still, if the customer wants it, I have to do it.

I swallowed my unpleasant feelings and headed to the meeting place. And as soon as I arrived, I thought:

Shit. Is this a house or a palace?

It was a neighborhood where only the famous rich in Milan live. With tight security, a massive mansion that looked to be at least 1,800 square meters sat right there. A private pool, a lawn the size of a stadium, and a well-kept garden.

It was the pinnacle of flaunting wealth. But it was strange. From the moment I passed the entrance and entered the mansion, something kept bothering me. What's the point of a polished exterior? Not a single servant was visible in such a vast mansion.

Instead, CCTVs were everywhere. Packed tightly as if not to leave a single blind spot within a 3-meter radius.

Is this a fucking house or a prison?

I wondered how much there was to steal to make a house like this. Still, it didn't matter. Because all I smelled was money.

They were clearly a big shot.

The thought that the meeting was a nuisance had long since vanished the moment I stepped into the mansion. It was after I had walked for a while into the inner garden.

A garden that was incredibly well-maintained. In the middle of it, a statue that looked damn expensive at a glance. And the client standing next to it, leisurely admiring the statue.

But. They looked younger than I expected. At most, they looked about my age, or maybe even younger. After a brief moment of confusion, I realized age didn't matter.

They had money. I immediately curled my lips into a smile. It was a business smile that reeked of capital.

"Wow~ this house is practically a palace."

"Are you the one who made the request?"

Thud.

Instead of an answer, an envelope fell at my feet. My mood soured instantly, but I held it in and picked up the envelope, thinking of it as money.

It was familiar data. The target's profile. Name, age, occupation. And so on. A single photo attached at the end. The moment I absentmindedly checked the photo, my hand stopped.

What the... is this?

I thought I had misseen it. No. I definitely saw it right. Unless I was blind, if the face in front of me and the face in the photo were the same, it was only natural to recognize it. Eventually, I spoke first again.

"Excuse me, you need to give me the target's profile, not the client's."

"That is correct."

A young voice finally spoke. And the next words followed.

"I requested it. For me."

What kind of crazy talk is this? So they're saying they hired me to kill them? I've seen all sorts of people, but this was the first time I'd met such a complete lunatic. But before I could even say anything, something even crazier came flying at me.

"How do you think you would kill me?"

Not only do they want to be killed, but they want to choose the cause of death too? I really stepped in it this time. I was about to turn away without hearing another word.

"Protect me in every way you could possibly kill me."

My steps stopped.

"That is the reason I hired you."

...It's a series of nonsense. You want a killer to do protection now? Fuck, there's a limit to acting out.

If it were an old person, I'd think they'd gone senile. But since they're still quite young, I thought they might have schizophrenia. Intending to just scare them and be done with it, I said:

"Hey, if you don't want to die young, watch yourself."

And I turned around just like that.

"Shit. I wasted my time for nothing."

It was at that moment.

"10 billion won."

My steps stopped.

"Exactly one year." "If I am safe for one year, I will give you 10 billion won."

...10 billion won. Of course, it was a crazy thing to say. But strangely, it didn't sound like a bluff. It wasn't the bravado of someone anxious to show off their wealth. It was the certainty of the type who could actually give it.

And only then did I realize how much this crazy client had investigated my background.

Prior convictions. Wanted status. Messy records that made it impossible to even return to Korea. I needed to launder my identity, and I needed money to start a new life.

That person knew that exactly.

"It seems your situation isn't exactly comfortable either."

"With 10 billion won... It should be enough to start at least one new life."

...Damn it.

That was the first meeting between Guest and me.

I, who could cut off a person's breath easier than breathing, accepted a crazy request for 10 billion won. A killer playing bodyguard.

One year. I thought it would be over in just one year. Because as long as I got the money, that was it. That's really what I thought back then.

Because I never dreamed that during that one year, saving someone would be harder than killing them.