Responsibility
Sion locked the training room door securely before heading up to the surface.
The streets looked no different than usual, yet to Sion, who had lived as a killer for so long, something felt off. He could sense the killing intent of another assassin.
“So, the cleaners have finally arrived.”
“……!!”
At Sion’s words, the people hiding in the shadows flinched and stepped out into the open.
There were five of them. Each was a cleaner, armed with a firearm.
As those tasked with disposing of killers who failed their missions, they were all elite-level assassins, each ranked A-class or higher. But Sion remained completely unfazed, even with four of them standing there.
Instead, he walked toward them, pulled a cigarette from his pocket, and lit it.
“Go back. The girl you’re looking for—the one who failed her mission? I’ve already killed her.”
At first, the cleaners intended to kill the man who knew their identity. It was a strict rule to eliminate any civilian who knew about the existence of killers. They planned to finish him off quickly and resume their search for Garam.
But the moment they saw Sion’s face, the thought of a quick execution vanished from their minds. In its place, a cold, paralyzing fear took root.
“Why is… Lord Null here…”
“I settled down here after I retired.”
Since retiring, Sion had tried his best to keep his identity hidden. It was only natural; he had retired at such a young age that he was still more than capable of active duty, and if he didn’t hide his identity, he would be bombarded with recruitment offers from every direction. He had kept a low profile to avoid such nuisances.
But now, revealing his identity was unavoidable. If he didn’t, the cleaners would continue their search, and if they did, the girl he had decided to take in would surely die.
“So, will you leave? I don’t want this neighborhood getting noisy.”
“But, Lord Null, you know as well as we do… we can’t return until we’ve confirmed the target is truly dead…”
“I don’t like to repeat myself.”
Sion’s voice dropped low. The embers of his cigarette glowed, overlapping with the chilling look in his eyes. Instinctively, four of the cleaners lowered their guns.
Their instincts were screaming that if a full-scale battle with Sion broke out here, they would certainly die.
“Are you all just going to stand there like cowards?”
However, the cleaner at the very front must not have received that warning, as he leveled his gun at Sion.
“He’s just one man! Are you going to fail the mission because you’re scared of one person?”
It was a hair-trigger situation where a single pull of the trigger would send a bullet flying. Yet, Sion let out a soft laugh and stepped even closer to the muzzle.
“What a pity.”
Bang!
At the same time, a gunshot rang out through the street. Blood splattered across the pavement. Within seconds, the cleaner who had pointed his gun at Sion collapsed on the spot.
The remaining cleaners were struck with pure horror.
Just 1.5 seconds.
In that split second, Sion had dismantled the pistol the cleaner was holding, snatched it away, reassembled it, and fired—aiming precisely at the center of the man’s forehead.
It was an attack born of a harmony between speed too fast for the eye to track and perfect accuracy.
“Hmm.”
Sion looked over the pistol he had snatched, then handed it to one of the other cleaners and said,
“Want to try again? Or will you stop here and go back?”
The faces of the remaining cleaners turned deathly pale. Having seen their colleague treated like a mere toy right before their eyes, they no longer possessed a shred of confidence that they could handle Sion.
“The choice is yours.”
The cleaners exchanged glances before shouting the same answer in unison.
“W-we’ll go back…!”
“Good choice.”
Sion patted the cleaners on the shoulders as he spoke.
“The Chairman probably won’t hold you responsible for failing the mission.”
“……How can you be so sure?”
“Because the Chairman knows I’m here.”
With that, Sion gestured for the cleaners to leave. Only then did they exhale the breaths they had been holding and vanished as if fleeing for their lives, not even bothering to take their comrade’s corpse with them.
“…Killers these days have no grit.”
Muttering that, Sion inadvertently thought of Garam. The sheer venom she showed, attacking even when she knew there was a gap in skill. The grit she had to endure pain and stand back up to grow, despite her young age.
Sion thought that the young Garam was more of a ‘killer’ than the professional ones he had just seen.
“She really is just like me.”
Not wanting a child to be exposed to cigarette smoke, Sion dropped the butt and crushed it under his heel. After disposing of the body he had created, he headed back toward the training room where Garam was waiting.
***
Click—
As the lock disengaged, the training room door slowly creaked open. The smell of blood drifting in from the other side caught Garam’s attention, and she shifted her gaze toward Sion.
“…Mister, did you go kill someone?”
“I suppose I did. There were people who came looking to kill you.”
“To kill me?”
“Yeah. Usually, when first-time killers fail their missions, they get killed. It’s not just about keeping them from coming back.”
Garam’s eyes wavered, clearly shocked by the information she was hearing for the first time. Watching her, Sion continued.
“…If you live as a killer, you’ll have to face situations like this constantly. Do you still want to keep training?”
“Like you said earlier, people like us can’t even dream of a normal life…”
“I suppose I couldn’t dream of one, either. But you’re still young.”
Sion gently stroked Garam’s hair.
“I can help you erase your past and live a normal life. I have the ability to do that.”
“…It sounds like you really don’t want me to be a killer.”
“I suppose that’s true.”
“What? You were the one who talked like you’d raise me into the greatest killer…”
“That’s because I don’t want you living a dangerous life.”
Sion’s hand brushed softly through Garam’s black hair.
“That’s why I’m giving you a chance through two different paths. I’m hoping that among them, you’ll choose to give up being a killer and live a normal life.”
The touch felt warm.
‘The other adults weren’t like this…’
Every adult she had met until now had said the exact same thing: that she had to become a killer, that she had a talent for taking lives. They had all said that, but Sion was different.
He gave her a choice—to live normally or to live as a killer—and his attitude of respecting her opinion was clear to see.
“Mister.”
“Yeah?”
“…I want to live a life just like everyone else, too. But…”
Garam hesitated, her lips trembling before she spoke.
“Even if I’m young, I’ve already got blood on my hands. That won’t ever be erased as long as I live. No matter how I choose to live.”
“That’s true. The past is something you can’t change, no matter what.”
“So my opinion hasn’t changed. I’ll… train under you.”
Garam’s answer was filled with a strong sense of resolve. Sion couldn’t help but offer a bitter smile once again. The fact that a child, only fourteen years old, had to feel the weight of responsibility for taking a life made his heart heavy.
“Alright. Your life is yours to choose.”
“Then are we starting the next training right away?”
“No. Let’s call it a day.”
Sion took an ice pack from the refrigerator and pressed it against the spot where Garam had been bruised earlier.
“Ouch, it’s cold!”
“Just bear with it. When you’re bruised, applying something cold helps it heal faster.”
“…….”
Garam clutched the ice pack and looked up at Sion. His touch was somewhat awkward, yet gentle. Feeling a strange ache in her heart, Garam asked,
“Mister, are you this gentle when you kill people, too?”
“…I’m far from gentle. I work with the thought of how I can kill them as quickly as possible.”
At Sion’s calm reply, Garam gripped the ice pack tightly.
“Isn’t… killing them quickly a form of gentleness?”
“…….”
Taken aback by the unexpected question, Sion watched her for a moment before opening his mouth.
“If you mean it in the sense that you aren’t making the other person suffer for long… then I suppose you could call it gentle.”
“Even if it’s not that, you seem like a pretty gentle person, Mister.”
“That’s the first time I’ve ever heard that in my life.”
As Sion let out a small laugh, Garam tapped his shoulder.
“Mister.”
“Yeah?”
“If… if an unbearable situation arises later, will you throw me away?”
Garam’s voice was cautious, but a subtle fear was laced within it. Being in a position where she was raised by someone just to survive meant she had to live with the constant anxiety that she could be discarded at any moment.
Sion met her gaze directly. He remained silent for a moment, as if choosing his words, before speaking calmly.
“I won’t throw you away.”
“…….”
“However, if having you by my side puts your life in even greater danger… I might send you away. But I won’t throw you away. The difference is clear.”
Garam’s eyes wavered.
“What’s the difference between sending me away and throwing me away…”
Sion raised the corners of his mouth.
“Throwing you away is casting off responsibility. Sending you away is making it so that you’ll be okay even if you don’t hold my hand.”
Garam couldn’t say anything for a long time. Her fingertips, clutching the ice pack, were trembling.
“I’ve already… taken your hand, Mister.”
“…….”
“So don’t throw me away. Don’t send me away, either. Because if you do, I’ll be all alone again.”
The last words were almost a whisper. In that moment, Sion felt as if he could suddenly see the true heart of the young Garam.
She wasn’t just a girl raised to be a killer; she was a child terrified of being discarded.
“…I understand.”
Sion replied in a low voice and stroked Garam’s hair.
“As long as you don’t let go, I’ll never let go of your hand.”
Only then did Garam exhale, looking subtly relieved. The shadow cast over her face lightened just a little. In its place, a faint blush filled her cheeks.