After dropping Maxin off at the clothing store, Nox glanced at her watch. Time was ticking. She scanned the hallway until her eyes landed on the staff-only door. Unlocked. She slipped inside and quickly grabbed a janitor's cart, adopting the disguise of a cleaning woman. She didn't have a concrete goal in mind—wasn't even sure if her plan would succeed or crash and burn—but something inside her told her to try anyway.
Maxin, meanwhile, wandered among the racks of clothes with a shop assistant trailing close behind. It wasn't that he didn't know what he wanted—it was that he was looking for the cheapest options. He had no idea how much the assassin was willing to spend on him. So he took his time, running his fingers across the fabrics, evaluating every tag and texture.
It had been so long since Maxin had gone shopping. His income had always been low, and what little he made often went toward apartment expenses with Jonathan.
Jonathan...
Where was he now? What was he doing? So much had happened so fast that Maxin hadn't had time to stop and think about his best friend. What would Jonathan say if he saw him now? Would he think Maxin had lost his mind? Most likely. Maxin certainly thought so—and if he did, what would stop his friend from thinking the same?
"Try this one, sir," the assistant said. Her name was Lise. She offered him a set of pants and a few shirts with a polite smile. Maxin nodded, took the clothes, and made his way to the fitting rooms with more garments in his arms.
Inside, a full-length mirror greeted him with the image of a lean, toned body. He studied himself curiously. He had dark, slightly wavy hair that fell softly across his forehead. His skin bore a faint pigment, just enough to hint at sun and time. His nose matched the delicate curve of his cheeks. Lips tinted naturally red.
But it was his eyes that caught his attention most—slightly upturned, framed by long lashes, and shining in amber hues. His irises shimmered like gemstones, shifting from caramel in the sunlight to near-black in dim lighting. Though even then, they never came close to the depth of her eyes.
She.
Those eyes—black and dense as onyx—sent chills down his spine with a single look. Maxin couldn't understand her. A living contradiction. She claimed she would kill him, yet saved him from other assassins. She spent hours watching him, seated and silent, as though trying to unravel him—even after calling his eyes cursed.
It was disorienting. Confusing. Completely maddening.
He tried on the clothes. They fit perfectly, hugging his frame in just the right way.
Then chaos erupted.
The calm of the store shattered as sprinklers burst to life, soaking everything in reach—clothes, racks, customers. Panic spread quickly when someone shouted about a possible fire. An employee called out instructions, urging everyone to evacuate.
"Darling!"
A familiar voice cut through the noise like a siren. Maxin turned his head so fast it was almost instinctive, like a puppy responding to its master's call.
She walked toward him—graceful, poised, and untouched by the panic around her. Her presence stood out amid the turmoil, drawing attention without effort. She exuded a confidence so unnerving that Maxin couldn't help but question everything all over again.
"How much is it?" she asked, turning to the pale-faced salesgirl.
Lise fumbled with the clothes, scanning them in a frenzy and taking the card offered to her with shaking fingers. She completed the transaction in seconds.
"Thank you, come again," she said, smile tight and insincere.
Maxin said nothing, only nodded and followed Nox out of the store, carrying two paper bags filled with newly purchased clothes.
"Quick, get in," Nox ordered, tossing the bags into the back seat as she slid into the driver's seat. Maxin climbed in without question, and the engine roared to life as she sped out of the parking lot.
"You did something, didn't you?" he asked, tone serious, once they were on the road.
"About what?"
"The mall."
"Oh, you want to know if I started the fire…" She laughed softly. "You'll be disappointed. It wasn't me."
She turned the wheel and took a sharp right, the car gliding down a narrow road lined with tall, green fields.
"Then where were you? You left me alone in the store, and then right when a fire breaks out, you come back completely calm. That's suspicious."
Maxin's voice was tight with frustration. He turned to face her, needing answers.
"I am an assassin," she said flatly. "But I'm also a professional. I don't set malls full of innocent people on fire. It was a coincidence. Now drop it."
"But… I…" Maxin sighed, letting the rest of the sentence die on his tongue.
He turned to the window. Outside, rice fields stretched across the landscape, and the sky glowed a soft, cloudless blue. The air was mild. He rolled down the window and let his hand dangle outside. The wind whipped past his fingers, offering a fleeting moment of peace.
Nox glanced at him briefly, her face unreadable, before focusing back on the road.
As they drove on, a few houses appeared among the green fields. The car followed a dirt path that led to one of them: a two-story house painted in neutral tones, light wood panels warming its facade. The curtains were drawn shut, and Nox stopped in front of the wooden gate.
Inside, Viktor was just finishing lunch when the doorbell rang. He took off his apron and wiped his hands, puzzled. Almost no one knew his address.
He peered through the magical mirror embedded in the wall and recognized the visitor instantly.
Nox.
He opened the door—only to nearly slam it shut again when he saw who stood beside her.
Maxin Romanov.
Viktor's lips pressed into a thin line. His eyes darkened, and his shoulders tensed.
"Nox…!"