Vash had not always been a merchant of death. Once, long ago, he had been nothing more than a boy with empty pockets and a hunger that gnawed at his ribs. He had learned quickly that the world did not reward honesty or kindness, it only respected power and gold . And so, he built his empire in the shadows, trading in secrets, weapons, and lives.

  He sat in his lavish chamber, fingers drumming against the mahogany desk, the scent of imported tobacco thick in the air. His mind lingered on old memories of the first blade he'd ever sold, the first life taken with a weapon he had provided.

  And now, another job was finished.

  The door creaked open, and the boy stepped inside, his cloak shifting uneasily around him. Vash barely glanced up. "Done?"

  The boy did not speak, but the look in his eyes answered the question. The job had been completed. The princess was dead.

  Vash smirked. "Good. Then we can move to our next matter, payment."

  The boy nodded. He had done his part. Now, it was time for Vash to honor his word.

  But Vash simply leaned back in his chair and exhaled a stream of smoke. "You've done well, boy. But I'm afraid there's been a complication."

  The boy stiffened. "Complication?"

  Vash chuckled, shaking his head. "It seems our little princess had some unexpected friends. They're looking into the murder. You see, the wrong kind of attention is bad for business." He set down his pipe and steepled his fingers. "So, before I can pay you, I need one last favor."

  The boy's hands curled into fists. "That wasn't the deal."

  Vash's smirk widened. "No, it wasn't. But life's unfair like that. Besides, you want to keep working, don't you? Then consider this an investment in our partnership."

  The boy said nothing, but his cloak shifted erratically, as if it could sense the deception in the air.

  Vash continued, his tone casual. "Your next target is a gun dealer. A rather powerful one, in fact. He's been selling weapons to my enemies, and I need him removed from the board."

  The boy's stomach twisted. He had killed before, but something about this job sat differently in his gut. Maybe it was the way Vash so easily broke his word. Or maybe it was something deeper, something unspoken.

  Regardless, he had no choice.

  Vash slid a slip of paper across the table. "His name, his location. Kill him, and you'll get what you're owed."

  The boy took the paper without a word and left

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  Declan Graves was a hard man to find, but the boy was patient. After days of tracking, he found the dealer hiding in a rundown warehouse on the outskirts of the city, Guards stood watch at every entrance, their hands resting on their pistols, eyes sharp as they scanned the darkness.

  The boy moved like a shadow, slipping past their sight with practiced ease. His cloak rippled around him, absorbing the moonlight, making him blend into the night itself.

  The gun dealer's hideout was a fortress of iron and smoke. Crates of weapons lined the walls, the metallic scent of gunpowder thick in the air. surrounded by armed guards. The boy moved like a shadow, taking down each guard one by one until only Graves remained.

  Inside the main chamber, the dealer sat at a wooden table, counting stacks of gold with a grin. He was a burly man with a thick beard, dressed in fine silks that clashed with the bloodstained weapons at his back.

  The boy drew his blade.

  One strike. That was all it would take.

  But he hesitated.

  The dealer looked up, his grin fading. "Well, well. You must be one of Vash's dogs."

  The boy tightened his grip on his weapon, but still, he did not move.

  The dealer chuckled. "You don't want to do this, do you? I can see it in your eyes." He leaned forward. "Vash sent you to clean up his mess, but tell me... when was the last time he kept his word?"

  The boy flinched.

  "You think you're just another mercenary," the dealer continued, "but you're not. You still have a conscience. I can see it. You don't want to kill me."

  The boy's mind raced. The dealer was right, Vash had betrayed him before. What was stopping him from doing it again?

  A different idea took root in his mind.

  Instead of striking, he moved with precision, knocking the dealer unconscious with the hilt of his cloak-blade. The man crumpled to the floor. The guards would be here soon. He had to move.

  Lifting the dealer onto his shoulders, the boy disappeared into the shadows.

  Vash's chamber was dimly lit when the boy returned, his cloak weighed down by the unconscious body he carried. He dropped the dealer onto the floor, stepping back as Vash's eyes flickered with amusement and irritation.

  The older man rose from his seat, circling the body like a predator. "What is this?"

  "A better deal," the boy said. "Alive, he's more valuable."

  "He's worth more to you alive," the boy said. "You can make an example out of him. A public execution, something dramatic. That's more fear than just another dead body."

  Vash chuckled, amused. "You think like a businessman. I like that."

  Then, without hesitation, Vash pulled a pistol from his belt and shot Graves in the head.

  The boy's eyes widened. "What the fuck Vash! Why would you do that?"

  Vash smirked, holstering his gun. "Because I don't need examples. I need results."

  The boy stood frozen, his breath sharp. He had tried to outthink Vash, to play his game, but the man before him was a different breed. He didn't operate on reason. He operated on dominance.

  As Vash turned his back, the boy's hands curled into fists. His cloak stirred violently, mirroring the storm in his mind. Without thinking, without hesitation, he lunged.

  To be continued.