A Girl and A Hitman - Episode 8

During university lectures, I was always bored. Or rather, it would be more accurate to say I was fed up. I had one friend with whom I could have a good conversation. This friend didn’t have the same abilities as I did. He was always lamenting the state of the world. “Humans are born and then return to nothingness when they die. No matter what you do while alive, if you only look at the beginning and the end, it’s a zero-sum game. Yet,

The other day, I heard that he died. At the same time as I felt blessed, I thought, “If he was going to die anyway, he should have told me so I could have made it easier for him,” “as a friend.”

Since I had nothing else to do, I was thinking about the girl when I was called by the name I’ve been using since childhood. When I turned to the side, the woman asked, “There’s something I don’t understand, could you teach me?” I had known for a while that this woman had feelings for me. She had a small, well-proportioned face and was beautiful. However, when I thought about whether I wanted to date her, that wasn’t the case. Of course, this is just my personal opinion, but what matters in a person is not their appearance, but how well the conversation flows and how much you can empathize with them. After all, appearance doesn’t change much once you peel off the skin. Having understood that through my experience with “work,” I explained it clearly to the woman. Afterward, I thought, “There’s nothing more boring than having to listen to the same story repeated,” just like yesterday. While watching the professor, I began to think about the girl again.

I had forgotten something important. I hadn’t even told the girl the meeting time or the meeting place. It was past four o’clock, and yesterday the girl had come out of the school gate at four-thirty. Today, since there were six classes, she would probably leave for home by three-thirty. The girl’s high school was about an hour and a half away from the university by train.

As I left the gate, thinking I wouldn’t be able to see her today, a woman in a white dress caught my eye. She was the woman who sat next to me on the plane. When the assassin said, ‘As expected, it’s impressive technology,’ the girl replied, ‘I came here!'” As I walked with the girl, I remembered that I had to kill her. However, I decided to forget about the request, convinced that with my current skills, it would be impossible even if I caught her off guard. I was happy that the girl came to see me even though she left early. The girl, on this day as well, drank her “Hot Blue Mountain with a lot of sugar” coffee while saying “Sweet!” and ate pancakes with my money. The stalker-san, “see you tomorrow,” the girl said and went home.

When I returned home, I realized that my feelings were leaning towards “not killing the girl.” Moreover, I couldn’t help but think about her all the time, whether I was sitting or standing. Almost all of my daily “boring time” had turned into “time spent thinking about the girl,” and I felt a sense of frustration. I pictured her face: the serious expression when she dodged the bullet, the unfriendly face when she narrowly avoided my punch, and the relaxed, provocative expression she had

It’s beautiful, above all.

As expected, it’s no surprise. I’m in love with her. To fall in love with a woman I have to kill. What a sinful and cliché twist.

Could it be this much fun?