I've Come to Get Hired

"Phew... that should be it."

The back alley was littered with bodies sprawled every which way. I yanked the stiletto from the last guy and wiped the blood off before sheathing it. Taking on fifty in such a cramped space had left me a bit winded, but my body wasn't worn out, so I gathered my weapons and got moving right away.

"One more request down for the day..."

I stepped out of the blood-soaked alley and onto the street. Even out in the open, the sunlight barely pierced the gloom here. Clack—clack— Every click of my heels drew eyes that stabbed at me before flicking away. Annoying stares, sure, but nothing like three years ago ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠when blades came flying with them.

Back then, with no reputation or track record, every step was a gamble with my life. But now, after three years of building my name and piling up kills, no one dared ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠touch me—even strolling ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a bit exposed like this. Not that I ever let my guard down, of course.

I brushed off the looks and arrived at the heart of the Back World: the Request Office. I pushed open the creaky wooden door and stepped inside.

Creeeak— The rusty hinges groaned just like they looked. Inside, at least thirty assassins milled about, checking requests or bullshitting with each other. My entrance drew the same fleeting stares as on the street. I ignored them and headed to a dim corner counter, barely lit enough to make out half a torso.

I set the bag I'd brought on the ledge.

"Requests all done. Here's their rings... and fingers."

"...Looks good. Good work."

A hand from the darkness snatched the bag and slid over an envelope stuffed with cash. I checked the amount, nodded, and turned to leave. Job done, money in hand—time for a little reward, right?

But just as I pivoted, the teller called out.

"Hold up."

"Yeah? What?"

"Something came for you. Here."

"For me?"

I turned back, and he passed a small card and note through the slot. Not a credit or debit card—we couldn't even use those anyway. It was an ID card. Unfolding the note with it told me exactly who it was from.

"Baek Ya-seong? Why the hell would they send me this?"

Baek Ya-seong. Even the Back World's outlaws knew the name—Korea's top assassin corporation, bar none. I muttered in confusion, and the teller replied.

"Word is, their youngest daughter's turning twenty. Looks like they're shopping for an exclusive assassin to assign her."

"Ah, so that's it. They pick me? No decent killers on the legit side, huh? Had to reach into the Back World."

"...You gonna do it?"

His gaze bored through the slot, asking if I'd take Baek Ya-seong's offer. I hummed, weighing it.

"Hmm..."

A family like that would make it worth my while—way better than scraping by in the Back World. But damn, all the rep and kills I'd built here... that made it tough.

I was mulling it over when a translucent window popped up, cutting my thoughts short.

The system window that hadn't changed since I landed here—except once. Seeing it shift after three years, I grinned.

"Guess I've gotta do it."

My one ticket out: the Main Quest. It pointed straight to Baek Ya-seong. No choice.

Mission: Assassination.

A game set in near-future dystopian Korea, where assassins were a legit profession. Fresh setting, killer gameplay—it hooked tons of players. I sank hours into it too.

But my playstyle was... niche. While others rampaged with high-tech weapons, I stuck to plain blades and raw physicality for stealth kills. Some called it a waste of time. They weren't wrong—game mechanics made it impossible to keep up that way.

So I modded it. Pumped stats, added wild abilities, swapped the character model. Poured everything into it.

Then, firing up my masterpiece...

No more screen graphics. The stench of blood and rot hit me. No sunlight overhead, just countless murderous glares. The Back World's streets stretched before me.

"Haa... I really busted my ass."

I woke up to three assassins jumping me. Sliced their throats on reflex and ducked into an empty alley. Then it appeared: a translucent system window.

What a total bitch that system was. Day one, I cursed it blue. Screen flashes, sucked into the game—insulting enough. Then it dangles my way home as a quest? No deadline specified? I invented new swears. So pissed, I stirred up noise till four assassins came sniffing—lost my voice yelling.

"But I couldn't just ignore it."

Time dulled the rage. Yelling at a window changed nothing, and at least it kept my mods intact. Plus, building rep made the Back World livable—even comfy.

"Honestly, better than real life."

Back home: orphanage kid, couple friends, scraping by in a basement dive. Here? Tough start, but now I pulled more than my old monthly wage daily. Decent pad too. My overwhelming power had me thinking by year one: Why not stay? By year three, I was half-settled.

But I took Baek Ya-seong's invite for two reasons. First, curious where this quest shift led after three years. Second, I wanted out—into the light.

"I've lived enough in the shadows."

The Back World had its fill. Even if I returned someday, I wanted a taste of legitimacy. So here I was, arms full of savings and gear, before a massive building. I tilted back my deep hood and looked up.

"Yeah, this is it."

Baek Ya-seong. The name blazed huge. Spot on. I nodded and strode through the automatic doors.

End of three Back World years. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Time to become the youngest miss's exclusive assassin.