The morning was cold, yet saturated with the scent of expensive perfume swirling in the Arena District air. This was the morning Ren had been waiting for. He now wore a sharp tuxedo complete with a vest and silk tie, disguising himself perfectly among the wealthy art gallery attendees.
Before stepping out of the car, Ren performed his final ritual. He reached for the orange contact lenses that usually concealed his identity and, with a swift motion, peeled them off. Under the morning light, a pair of glowing red retinas were exposed—a horrifyingly real visualization, signifying he was ready to face his great enemy without a filter.
Ren stepped out of the back passenger seat of Santino's sedan, his posture straight and impeccable. He did not turn around, only confirming with his driver, "Leave. Do not wait." The car pulled away, leaving Ren alone in front of the magnificent entrance of the God Hands Art Gallery, surrounded by marble pillars and bronze carvings.
Armed with an encrypted device and the twin black daggers neatly hidden beneath his tuxedo, Ren stepped inside. The gallery's interior was a labyrinth of glass displays and antique sculptures. He ignored all the compliments and polite greetings from the arriving guests; his focus was searching for anomalies. His eyes—now a piercing red—moved with calculator-like speed between the painting frames, mapping out CCTV blind spots, measuring thermal detection potential, and analyzing the nearest security units.
After an hour of circling the gallery, Ren concluded that Frey's security system far exceeded his estimation. Most doors leading to the gallery's vital areas were equipped with the latest smartlock biometrics.
The emergency stairwell door didn't have biometrics, but it was guarded by armed security. I could kill him for access, but that's too risky. Ren wrestled with analysis and logic. He couldn't act rashly.
Ren found himself standing in a relatively quiet side hallway, in front of a layered steel door guarded by an advanced palm sensor.
He withdrew his thinly gloved right hand from his pocket, pressing his hacking device. In the tense silence, the device's screen flickered, attempting to break the encryption. However, his attempt failed. The device screen flashed red, denying access. Frey's technology was too new and sophisticated; Ren's device was not upgraded enough to penetrate the biometrics. For the first time in a long time, Ren was at a technical impasse.
To avoid attracting attention as a man staring too long at an empty door, Ren let out a nearly inaudible sigh, stored his device, and headed to the small, lavishly designed bar in the gallery corner. He ordered a lemon soda, refusing the expensive whiskey offered by the bartender. Although Ren was always prepared with an antidote pill, he still hated alcohol.
Ren leaned against the cool marble counter. While occasionally sipping the lemon soda, Ren repeatedly tried his hack, his gloved fingers moving swiftly across the screen. But the result remained the same: zero. This deadlock forced his senses to dull for a moment. He didn't realize a pair of eyes had been observing his digital failure.
And just then, amidst the tedious buzz of small talk, a striking figure appeared before him. Without Ren's permission or assent, Vera sat on the stool next to him, holding a copita glass filled with Tequila.
"You seem busy, Sir. And you look very angry at that small device. Is technology failing a professional on his day off?" Vera asked.
Behind her calm voice, Ren knew it was fake empathy. Ren's eyes immediately focused on Vera's highly conspicuous appearance. A visual he intensely tried to avoid dealing with.
What the hell is that blue hair and red dress? Ren thought with annoyance.
"I prefer the latter. And step away," Ren answered flatly, avoiding unnecessary conversation. "I hate eyewitnesses, especially verbose and conspicuous ones."
Vera ignored the sharp remark. "I'm not a conspicuous eyewitness, my name is Vera. And I'm intrigued by a very specific frustration. That flickering code, and the non-alcoholic drink you ordered. Let me guess, you are a pure assassin, hindered by Rich City's increasingly sophisticated firewall. Isn't that right?"
Ren felt an electric jolt. Who is she? I'm not giving off killer intent, yet she can guess accurately.
A faint, fake smile was now etched on his face. Ren tried to quickly analyze who the stranger in front of him was, whether from the Loyal Faction or Daniel's subordinates. He also couldn't deny her accurate analysis.
"Alcohol is not good for chasing a rat. Furthermore, the signal of my supporting device is completely blocked by the newly activated First Class Protocol around here. This is a digital logic that I cannot solve with just a dagger, and it disturbs my aesthetic."
"I understand. Digital failure," Vera nodded, confirming with a deep inclination. "While I am the opposite. They installed a biometric lock on the main server port. I need five impossible seconds to penetrate it in this crowd."
Ren caught Vera's look, filled with hidden intent. Then he remembered the name that was not foreign to him.
Vera. I think I've heard the name. If it's really her, this is a terrible coincidence, Ren internally wrestled with his thoughts again.
Ren turned fully, his red eyes now slightly glowing. "One of the information brokers I visited mentioned your name. Network 'Vera' is known for her dreadful digital reputation. Yet, you are still at risk of exposure because of a physical obstacle. While I am at risk of leaving a trace because of a digital obstacle. An annoying situation, or perhaps… advantageous?" he said, responding to Vera's glance coldly, his finger tapping the marble.
Ren slightly averted his face, looking at his device blinking red. Meanwhile, Vera seemed focused on listening to the sound from her earpiece. He understood perfectly; her handler must be confirming the leaking jammer signal. His red eyes stared at Vera, not with anger, but with a new calculation.
"That's right," he said, his tone shifting to a faster, conspiratorial pitch. "A powerful local jammer has just been activated, and my mission will become a ridiculous suicide. But…" His dagger-sharp gaze turned completely to Vera, his red eyes now shining with a newly born, deadly idea.
"I can trigger system instability that will shut down all biometric smart-locks for mass emergency evacuation. That gives you a full ten-second window," Ren continued, offering an opportunity.
With cold consideration, Ren had to utilize this meeting to gain the digital world connection that was hindering his aesthetic.
Vera nodded without hesitation, her pupils widening. As if getting the answer she had been waiting for all along.
"I need a total physical distraction in that area to cover my movement. And I need a safe back-up for escape, after I plant the dongle," Vera requested.
"Distraction is a small thing. I can guarantee the area is clear of all security guards leading to your location, without bloodshed—unless I am forced to," Ren replied firmly, offering a guarantee of calm ruthlessness.
Vera suddenly picked up the copita glass containing the alcoholic beverage she had been holding and quickly downed it. Her face showed a sudden expression of dizziness. She looked at Ren with a false, crooked smile.
"I suspected as much, Tequila doesn't agree with me," Vera said in a deliberately weakened tone, then she leaned in closer and rested on Ren's rigid shoulder.
Ren, with his always alert instinct, did not flinch and immediately realized that this was not physical weakness, but a code. The newly activated jammer in the area must have made normal audio transmission very risky for sensitive codes.
He did not reject Vera's lean; instead, his head tilted slightly, allowing his rigid body posture to become the perfect physical cloaking. Waiting for Vera to give the code.
Between a cold breath and almost no distance, Vera whispered. "Frequency jammer in this area is active. There is a risk of audio leakage. Listen carefully. Five, dash, golf, romeo, one one nine."
Without waiting for Ren's answer, Vera released her lean, returning to sit as if nothing had happened, her face flat again.
Ren showed no emotion, he merely touched his ear, processing the code.
L-GR 119
The rendezvous point in her car then. Not a bad safe point.
The negotiation was over. The agreement was forged, cold and deadly, behind the glitter of the bland cocktail. Ren set aside his business with Frey; the connection with Vera was too valuable a potential to miss. He moved with cold swiftness, transitioning from casually leaning at the bar to calculated action.
For fifteen full minutes, Ren managed to create the perfect physical backdoor for Vera to move. No significant traces and without a single drop of blood spilled. A debt of access Vera would have to pay dearly for later.
Ren walked casually out of the gallery, which had begun to subside. His steps were calm and measured, matching the focus of his eyes scanning every license plate in the parking area. The Van with the license plate number Vera had mentioned was parked quite concealed in the logistics area.
He opened the door and sat in the passenger seat. Inside the Van, Vera was waiting in the driver's seat. Now, the smell of cold sweat and expensive perfume mixed in the cramped air.
"As I promised, I created the physical backdoor so you could move freely. And you are done with your business. Now, it's your turn," Ren said calmly, returning to his transactional mode.
Vera sighed heavily. Her hands carefully removed her earpiece then placed it on Ren's ear. Their first physical contact was very brief, just a brief brush of skin in the darkness, a transfer from one system to another.
After that, they returned to discussing an unwritten agreement regarding the Red Line they must not cross when taking on job contracts. Vera stipulated that Ren was strictly forbidden from involving children in his work, or the alliance would be canceled.
Ren had no objection at all; his long-term target was the old rats of Rich City. He also affirmed he would not waste energy on jobs that didn't benefit him.
Thus, The Cube had recruited a new member as their physical backdoor. While Ren gained a digital scalpel as sharp as his twin daggers. Ren couldn't hide his satisfied smile because of this alliance.
Instead of leaving to end everything, Vera posed the most important question. "What is your name, Mr. Assassin?"
Ren smirked, a predator's smile who found an equal hunting partner. As if Ren had been waiting for Vera to ask that question.
"Call me Ren," he answered briefly. A name that even Santino and his subordinates did not know until this moment.
Approaching Midnight, at Baron Frey's Penthouse
Frey's Penthouse was a dome of glass and steel floating above the Arena District, radiating a distant, cold light.
Approaching midnight, Baron Frey had just arrived at his private office, an aura of elegant fatigue clinging to his perfectly tailored cashmere suit. He hadn't been sitting long in his executive chair, enjoying the expensive silence, when a professional knock sounded on the door.
"Come in."
The Head of the Security Team, a stiff-postured man with a constantly lit earpiece, stepped inside. The man's expression was tense, a contrast to the composure he had to maintain. Frey didn't need to hear his report; even the smallest disturbance in the elite world always caused large ripples.
"A ruckus at the God Hands Gallery this morning?" Frey guessed, his tone cold and cynical, as if the incident were a mere inconvenience.
The team head nodded stiffly, without uttering a word. He handed over a thin tablet with a screen displaying a red log. "Comprehensive report, Baron. We recorded a shift in the giant Horus Angkasa art structure, sirens being forced to blare, and the inevitable panic of elite guests. The biometric system was down for a full ten seconds."
Frey ignored the log and snatched the tablet. He quickly scrolled through the CCTV feed, filtering hundreds of panicked elite faces. His sharp eyes searched not for the effect but the anomaly that caused it. He watched every recording from all directions, looking for a pattern or a mistake.
Then, his eyes narrowed, locked on one aberrant frame. Amidst the chaotic crowd, there was one figure moving calmly, dressed in a neat tuxedo, yet feeling foreign among the uniform elite of Rich City. Frey zoomed in on the feed, and although the recording quality in that area wasn't perfect, he saw it: the striking red retina glowing coldly under the gallery lighting. That gaze showed no fear or panic, only deadly calculation.
"Baron," the Head of the Security Team began, "Do we need to involve the Rich City Police for confirmation?"
Frey raised a hand, firmly refusing. "Absolutely not. Do not involve the police. I don't want any media speculation or elite gossip pointing to the Frey Family's vulnerabilities." He paused, staring at his own reflection in the glass window. "For the public, issue a press release that the chaos was caused by an unstable Aegis server port. That should be enough to maintain our image in front of the media and avoid speculation." Frey had to ensure his reputation wasn't shattered just by a cheap disturbance.
"By the way. Who is this 'nobleman'?" Frey demanded, pointing at Ren's face on the screen with a gesture of disgust. He refused to believe anyone outside his social circle could cause such a massive disturbance.
The security team head shook his head, looking embarrassed. "We are currently tracking facial identification, Baron. The file is empty at the moment."
Frey's face hardened, his arrogance now mixed with dangerous anger. "I don't care how you find him. I want a name, connections, and that report on my desk as soon as possible. And…" Frey paused, his voice now piercing. "... there is one point I am sure is directly connected to this incident."
He considered this action too crude, too desperate to be the work of an elite rival. This smelled like the residue of the old mafia.
"Investigate his connection to the movements of the Santino mafia."
This was no longer a disturbance, but a declaration of war. Frey leaned back, his eyes staring sharply into the distance. Ren, without realizing it, had just ignited a war with an influential elite group in Rich City.
"Let's see," Frey hissed, satisfied with the direction of the investigation he had set. "Who is this little clown who dares to mess with my art gallery."