"How do you plan on ensuring you won't die?"
"You certainly won't believe me if I just say it. So, for this, I plan to let time prove me right," Morin said.
"So, Mr. Wick, why do you want to quit?"
"I..." Wick hesitated for a moment. "Because of a person."
"A man... or a woman?" Morin smiled.
"Okay, a woman. Love. Nice. That's indeed one of the emotions that makes people face death. I'll toast to that."
"Are you really a psychologist?" Wick asked suspiciously.
He hadn't answered Morin's question, but Morin had given a definitive answer.
Wick, of course, had no idea Morin was cheating.
"A little," Morin said. "Just a hobby in my spare time. It seems I was right again."
"You're right," Wick said. "It was because I met her that I realized there were other... more meaningful things in this world."
"Okay, so for now, our goals, to some extent, should be aligned," Morin concluded. "We both want to go against the hotel."
"What I want to do isn't as difficult as what you want to do," Wick said, shaking his head. "I just want to get out."
"That's enough," Morin chuckled. "What kind of conditions will they give you, Wick?"
"If it were up to me, I'd give you a mission that you'd think was impossible to complete, making you die on that mission. That way, it's justifiable, and it preserves the dignity of the Continental Hotel and me."
"...So, what do you want to do?"
Wick had to admit that Morin's words made perfect sense.
From Wick's understanding of those people, they were certainly capable of doing something like that.
"I think you've probably figured it out," Morin raised his glass, gesturing to Wick.
"I'd like to invite you to join the Templars."
"I don't see anything that would make me want to join," Wick said, remaining still.
"Your strength is impressive, but compared to what you want to do, it's still not enough, not nearly enough."
"This is just a preliminary agreement, a sign that you're willing to consider it." Morin's hand hung in the air, unmoving.
"You can make your final decision after I have shown you enough strength, but for now, I need a preliminary answer. Only then will you be worth my time and effort."
"...You're very confident," Wick asked. "Why?"
"Because when things reach an extreme, they must reverse. When dark is at its peak, light will emerge," Morin said.
"I am the Templar who will bring light back to this world."
"You sound like a religious fanatic talking nonsense," Wick sighed.
"But..."
"Who says I'm not about to try something that only a crazy person would do?"
The glasses clinked, making a crisp sound.
...
The Fraternity of Assassins.
Carlos walked into a secret room.
He technically wasn't supposed to be here.
Only Sloan, the leader of the Fraternity, was allowed to enter.
But that was no trouble for the assassin master, the
"Cross" Carlos.
He came here to find something.
"Fate..." Carlos looked at the giant loom in the center of the room.
This was the inheritance of the Fraternity of Assassins for thousands of years, the Loom of Fate!
"Kill one to save a thousand." This was the creed that all assassins in the Fraternity believed in.
And they all deeply believed in the guidance of fate, the list given by the loom, and that what they were doing was right.
"But when fate is controlled by humans..." Carlos walked toward the loom, his hand gently stroking the threads.
The hand that held a gun was careful and reverent as it
touched the delicate threads.
"Are you still you, Fate? Or have you become a tool for others to use for their own selfish interests?"
Carlos stopped, staring at the loom. After a long while, he asked softly.
"If you are still Fate, then please give me guidance. Tell me, who is the true enemy of the Fraternity of Assassins..."
His words became a breeze, sweeping over the threads, causing the delicate threads to vibrate imperceptibly.
For a long time, Carlos turned away in disappointment, preparing to leave.
Click.
A nearly inaudible sound made Carlos stop in his tracks, standing completely still.
Slowly, he turned around, trembling, to look at the loom.
Click, click...
The sound became continuous. The bobbin, the shaft, the roller... all the parts began to move without any power
source!
Under Carlos's watchful eyes, the Loom of Fate started to operate on its own, weaving a piece of thread.
Carlos walked forward gently, carefully and softly picking up that piece of fabric, cutting it, and placing it under a microscope.
1, 0, 1, 0...
The binary code in Carlos's mind automatically began to combine, corresponding, and allowing him to decipher the letters.
Finally
"Sloan..."
A sigh echoed in the secret room and slowly faded into silence.
Within it was a mix of anger, regret, and... relief?
...
"So, my words reminded you of some past details, and then you went directly to the Loom of Fate to ask it questions, and it gave you the answer?"
Morin was completely baffled.
This time, he was truly confused.
He hadn't been unaware of the special nature of the Loom of Fate before.
After all, an item that a group of assassins had inherited for thousands of years should have some... special properties, right?
But what the heck was a loom that weaved on its own without a power source?
How did it move?
Magic?
Or was it because of actual fate?
Morin couldn't help but have a bunch of ideas pop into his head.
However, he wasn't so shocked that he lost his
composure.
It was just a small surprise at most.
After all, he had seen plenty of things that defied science before!
What was called "unscientific" was just science that couldn't be understood with our current level of knowledge.
The saying that "the end of science is theology" makes
perfect sense from a certain perspective.
When looking at the level that the end of science has reached, it's naturally incomprehensible and looks like a form of godliness.
"Yes," Carlos, of course, had no idea about the numerous thoughts that had gone through Morin's mind in just a
few seconds.
"I deciphered the code and got Sloan's name."
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