Me? Why? It's My Very First Mission!
I padded along behind Ivan, a towering, raven-haired senior operative who easily stood twice my height, as we slowly made our way toward the Guild Master's office. Along the corridor, I had tried to strike up some cheerful conversation, but the man proved to be a walking tombstone. He hadn't offered a single proper response the entire walk.
"Come on, senior, why did the Guild Master call for me? Can't you just give me a tiny hint?"
"Once we arrive, the Guild Master will explain everything himself."
"Tsk."
That made five times I had asked, and five times he had brushed me off with the exact same stonewalling. If someone asks five times, isn't it common courtesy to throw them a bone? Clearly, he wasn't merely taciturn—he was just plain rigid.
"Hmph..."
Still, our current location—the Assassins' Guild Headquarters—was genuinely cool. It carried a gloomy, shadowy air while retaining an undeniable touch of refined elegance, screaming covert syndicate in the best way possible. Between Ivan striding ahead of me and the shadowy figures slipping through the corridors, everyone oozed the unmistakable presence of a lethal killer. It really hammered home the fact that I had tumbled straight into Assassin Project. Of course, the fact that literally everyone towered over me made the whole experience slightly terrifying.
"Enter."
"Aren't you coming in with me, senior? Just me?"
"He only summoned you."
"Got it."
Following that brief exchange, I pushed the heavy door open and stepped into the Guild Master's office. Directly across from the entrance sat a handsome, polished mahogany desk, behind which relaxed a man who appeared to be in his mid-thirties. That had to be the Guild Master. At a glance, he gave off the disarmingly harmless vibe of an ordinary neighborhood uncle, but in stories like this, it was an ironclad cliché that the unassuming ones were secretly overpowered monsters.
"Hello there."
"Ah, you've arrived. I've been waiting for you."
"Did I take too long? I came straight here the second Senior Ivan fetched me."
"Not at all. Just a turn of phrase, so please don't pay it any mind."
The Guild Master rose to greet me with a genial, warm-hearted smile, treating me less like a subordinate and more like a doted-upon niece. For a meeting between the supreme leader of an assassination syndicate and the greenest recruit on the roster, his humble demeanor was so disarming that it was hard to believe he was an assassin at all. Even so, rank was rank, which meant I needed to maintain utmost propriety.
"Please, have a seat first. What we have to discuss won't be settled in just a few words."
"Yes, Guild Master."
Nodding dutifully at his invitation, I swung my short legs over to the compact sofa he indicated and perched upon the cushion. Though designed as a loveseat, my petite frame made it feel vast and cavernous.
"I intend to entrust you with your very first mission."
"Oh!"
Right into the deep end! Since this was effectively the tutorial stage, I had fully expected to be tossed straight into a combat drill, but apparently we were skipping ahead.
"While you haven't yet built an official record within our ranks, Serena, our appraisal of your potential is exceptionally high. While your petite stature is somewhat regrettable, you carry the blood of a Half-Vampire. We are confident you will prove to be an invaluable asset to our guild."
"Heheh, really?"
"Indeed. And because of who and what you are, despite this being your inaugural assignment, it will be quite... demanding."
"What kind of job is it? Am I taking out some corrupt noble who crossed the line?"
Usually, tutorial targets in the games followed that exact mold: feudal lords bleeding their domains dry, terrorizing innocent peasants, or launching ruthless, underhanded plots against rival houses. The guild was known for dispatching those sorts of scum. Though called an assassination syndicate, the Assassins' Guild in Assassin Project was fundamentally a force for good—a benevolent order operating from the shadows to eradicate true villainy.
"No. The task we are assigning you is not of that nature. It is... an escort mission."
"...An escort?"
"Yes, personal protection. Serena, your first mission is to guard an Imperial Princess."
"...Excuse me? A princess? Me? Why? It's my first day!"
His bombshell knocked all sense of etiquette straight out of my head. I was a scrub! A newborn, fresh-out-of-the-crib rookie! I was barely scraping through the tutorial sequence, so how on earth was my very first job guarding imperial royalty? No matter how you sliced it, that sounded like an endgame nightmare.
"Um, I haven't completed a single contract since joining the guild...?"
"Yes, I am well aware."
"Then why on earth...?"
The decision baffled me completely. Why choose me to protect a princess? In a typical Assassin Project tutorial, the first mission was usually trivial—taking out the absolute bottom-feeder tied to the main villainous faction. In the previous installment, it had been a lowly corrupt priest caught trading contraband with heretics.
"Even if I happen to be a remarkably gifted assassin with a brilliant future ahead of me, guarding an imperial princess feels a bit..."
"It is entirely natural that you find this confusing. However, Serena, we determined that you are the most suitable candidate for the role."
"I mean, really..."
Did he catch early-onset dementia? Thirty-something was a bit young for memory loss, but then again, maybe spending his youth slaughtering marks and his adulthood managing an underground empire had finally fried his brain. I clamped my mouth shut, suppressing the desperate urge to let loose a stream of disrespectful questions. It still made zero sense, but the Guild Master clearly had more to say, forcing me to hold my tongue.
"This request did not originate from the princess herself, but directly from the Imperial Palace. For all intents and purposes, it is a decree from the Emperor."
"Huh?"
"More specifically, His Majesty commissioned a bodyguard to act as a personal maid to the Third Imperial Princess, Cecilia de Aria. Furthermore, he explicitly requested an operative capable of establishing an intimate, trusted relationship with her."
"...And that's supposed to be me?"
"Precisely. The Third Princess is nineteen years old, the exact same age as you, having just entered adulthood this year. While we possess seasoned operatives skilled in espionage and disguise, we concluded that none could integrate themselves as seamlessly as you."
"Even so, sending someone as inexperienced as me is..."
"Do not fret. We have no intention of deploying you immediately."
"Then what?"
In that instant, whether it was a woman's intuition or a killer's sixth sense, a creeping dread washed over me. Every nerve screamed that something gruelingly painful and hazardous was looming just around the corner—yet jumping up to run felt far more perilous.
"Before sending you to her side, you will undergo one full month of intensive special training. You will be drilled thoroughly in defensive combat techniques suited for an escort, as well as every facet of court etiquette and household chores required of a royal maid."
"Ah..."
My instincts had hit the bullseye. The pleasant smile stretching across the Guild Master's face turned genuinely terrifying, carrying the unspoken promise that he would run me right to the brink of death before letting me rest. For a fraction of a second, I almost wet myself. Almost. Not that I actually did, mind you.
"Fret not. The headquarters is home to an abundance of exceptional seniors. Their instruction will undoubtedly foster immense growth in you. Though, considering your growth plates have already fused, I suppose you won't be getting any taller?"
"......"
He tacked on a lighthearted joke to ease my palpable terror, but it didn't help in the slightest.
"Your Highness, I have prepared warm water for you. I also brought the correspondence that arrived for you today."
"...Leave it by the side. I am not in the mood right now."
"Understood, Your Highness."
After presenting a goblet of water to the golden-haired woman resting on the bed, the maid bowed and quietly withdrew, leaving the solitary royal alone in the sprawling chamber. The room was lavishly adorned with priceless ornaments and intricate tapestries, yet despite its sheer scale and breathtaking opulence, a heavy, suffocating silence reigned over the space. The only sound was the faint, rhythmic breathing of Cecilia de Aria.
"The Academy..."
Several minutes drifted by before she finally cast her gaze toward the formal document resting atop her bedside nightstand.
"...What a nuisance."
Had anyone else received such an envelope, they would have wept tears of ecstatic joy and made a tremendous fuss, yet to her, the parchment stirred nothing. It was as hollow and meaningless as the grand, gilded cage surrounding her.
"...It isn't as though I can achieve anything anyway. What on earth are you scheming, Imperial Father?"
Though the chamber was utterly vacant, her murmured complaint had a clear recipient. She knew full well her quiet words would never reach his ears, but she continued muttering into the void regardless.
"The throne will inevitably belong to the First Prince. You have no intention of ceding power to the First Princess, the Second Princess, or to me. So why go through the trouble of casting me out to the Academy?"
Closing her eyes briefly, she reopened them and stared up at the frescoed ceiling, letting her eyes drift away from the parchment in her grip.
"Are you worried I might stand in the way of my brother's future? No, shipping me off to the Academy would cause far more political friction if that were the case."
With no audience to answer her, Cecilia merely let the bitter musings spill from her lips in a hushed whisper.
"Or is this simply your way of ordering me to crawl out of sight and die somewhere beyond the palace walls?"
Her fingers tightened, crumpling the prestigious certificate into a crushed ball. Her thoughts drifted back several weeks to her sudden, unprompted audience with the Emperor.
It had occurred while she was idling alone in her quarters, just as she always did. A maid whose face she couldn't even recall had burst in, announcing that His Imperial Majesty was summoning her. And then, without an ounce of preamble, came the decree commanding her enrollment in the Academy. Even now, Cecilia could not fathom the Emperor's reasoning. Nor did she care to.
"...He murdered my mother. Now that I have come of age, I suppose he cannot wait to cast me out of his sight a single day sooner."
Her fingers slipped loose, and the mangled certificate tumbled to the floor. The once-pristine parchment was so heavily creased that the gilded lettering was virtually illegible. She paid it no mind; she knew full well that when the cleaning maid arrived later, the girl would panic and scurry off to fetch a fresh duplicate anyway.
"...At this point, I might as well leave. Anything to escape this wretched palace."
Fixing her eyes upon the triple-locked windows, she glared through the heavy glass into the world beyond, venting words steeped in solitary, untamed resentment—words meant for no one to ever hear.