Chapter 11: The Scent of an Assassin
Hoàng Hải Vân accompanied Nguyễn Thế Anh to the grand opening of a massive orphanage. Everything had already been set up—all they needed was the presence of the two prestigious young masters.
As expected, Nguyễn Thế Anh gracefully took the stage to deliver his speech.
Meanwhile, she was nothing more than a decorative vase.
Before he began speaking, they both bowed to the audience. Then, she quietly stepped aside and sat down, leaving him to command the crowd with ease.
For him, public appearances were second nature.
She, on the other hand, scanned the grand hall in awe and curiosity.
The Trần family's wealth was ridiculous.
To build such a lavish orphanage under the guise of charity—how much money had they thrown into this?
Perhaps the old man had committed too many sins in his lifetime. Now that he was dead, he forced his son to atone for him.
Well, that had nothing to do with her.
Right now, she needed to get home.
She had to find a way to let her parents know she was still alive.
She stood up, pretending she needed the restroom.
As she walked away, she subtly checked Nguyễn Thế Anh's reaction.
Though he continued his speech flawlessly, she could feel his sharp gaze flicker toward her.
He's still keeping an eye on me.
If she waited for him to finish speaking, she'd lose her chance.
She slipped through the back door, stealthily searching for an escape route.
Circling behind the building, she found a construction site filled with debris.
Perfect. No one would be around.
She was just about to climb over the rubble when—
A sharp, acrid scent hit her nose.
Cigarette smoke.
Immediately, she ducked into the shadows.
A moment later, a middle-aged man appeared.
He had a scarred, rugged face and an aura of trained lethality.
Definitely ex-military or someone from an underground organization.
He was carrying a long object, carefully wrapped in old black cloth.
The moment she got a whiff of gunpowder, her body froze.
A sniper rifle.
And not just any rifle—an imported model from the US.
Lately, several assassination victims had been taken out with the same kind of weapon.
If someone got hit, they wouldn't just die instantly—even if they survived, they'd be crippled for life.
How did she know?
Because she was a forensic doctor.
She studied dead bodies for a living.
And thanks to this kid's hypersensitive nose, she could detect scents most people couldn't.
Maybe the original owner of this body had been obsessively clean.
Before she could process further, the man disappeared into the trees.
Shit.
Her instincts screamed at her—someone was about to die.
Without hesitation, she followed him.
The man crouched in a small grove, adjusting his position.
A moment later—the rifle was assembled, loaded, and ready to fire.
She traced the trajectory of the barrel.
It was aimed directly at the stage.
At the man delivering his speech.
Nguyễn Thế Anh.
The bullet was meant for his brain.
She exhaled slowly.
Letting him die would be the easiest solution.
He was a hypocrite.
He had already tried to kill her once.
And without him, she could live peacefully.
Wouldn't it be better to just let it happen?