“Hmm... there are still so many worldlines...”
Ning Yu, wandering in the gray mist, stood alone on the lake where the Moon Princess was absent. With a casual pull, she drew down a luminous curtain marked with countless parallel lines.
Some of the parallel lines above had already curved and merged into the final line—the restored worldline.
But below, a large portion of the parallel lines still stood there, slowly extending backward.
“You’re really something, running off and leaving this mess for me.”
Ning Yu lazily leaned back, and the gray mist immediately condensed behind her, forming a soft, cloud-like cushion.
Her silver hair swayed gently as the mist drifted around her.
“I really feel like singing you a song about ‘Jiangnan Leather Factory.’”
Suddenly, the gray mist seemed to be driven by something, splitting off a portion to cover Ning Yu’s eyes, as if playing a mischievous prank.
“Ah, you’re holding a grudge now, huh?”
Ning Yu quickly brushed the mist away from her eyes, but as soon as she did, it returned, lingering like a stubborn ghost.
“Alright, alright, I’m sorry, sis. Stop messing around.”
Ning Yu stood up abruptly from the mist, which bounced back elastically, making a soft “duang duang” sound.
The mist covering her eyes finally dissipated.
“Huh?”
Just as Ning Yu was about to continue her work and enter the next timeline for repairs, she noticed something unusual among the parallel lines.
Unlike the others, this particular line extended backward, and its destination was unknown.
“Hey, Moon Princess, what’s going on here?”
Ning Yu pointed at the peculiar parallel line and called out into the air.
But aside from the ripples on the azure lake and the random swirls of gray mist, there was no response.
“Seriously, now you’re playing dead? Are you trying to set me up?”
Ning Yu muttered under her breath, but she still shifted her gaze back to the normal parallel lines.
“You think you can trick me? Not a chance.”
Her hand was about to touch the next normal parallel line, but at the last moment, she hesitated.
“Damn it, I’m still too curious.”
Her hand quickly moved to the peculiar backward-extending line, and she tapped it.
......
0033 glanced up at the name of the jazz bar: **"Sour Lime."**
The neon sign featured a slightly unripe orange next to the name.
The lights, whether due to age or intentional design, flickered intermittently, giving the place a vintage vibe.
She pushed open the door and walked in.
The bar wasn’t too crowded, but it wasn’t empty either. Patrons were scattered in small groups, holding glasses filled with colorful liquids.
Most of the people here were here for the jazz, while a few might have been hoping for a chance encounter.
0033, of course, was part of the former group.
The sound of the doorbell drew a few glances from the customers, their eyes shifting from casual indifference to awe as they took in her appearance.
0033 was dressed in a white hooded tracksuit, with a pair of gradient headphones featuring a skull design hanging around her neck. Her sleek black hair was tied into twin tails.
Her flawless face was adorned with striking red eyes—courtesy of her daily disposable colored contacts—and her makeup was done in a delicate “dere” style, giving her a sweet yet slightly dangerous allure.
This was the look she had chosen to lure her target today—an old man who apparently had a thing for college girls dressed like this.
Yes, 0033 was an assassin, and one of the best.
Years ago, she had been an orphan, rescued from a gang of thugs in a muddy alley by another assassin from her organization.
If it hadn’t been for that person, she might have ended up as a prostitute, forced to serve six or seven men a day in some miserable brothel.
But now, even if sixty or seventy men came at her, they’d only end up as corpses at her feet.
0033 shook her head, pushing away the memories that had suddenly surfaced, and took a seat at the bar.
“I’ll have a ‘California Hotel,’” she said, choosing the most normal-sounding name from the menu.
The bartender nodded and began preparing the drink with what 0033 considered unnecessarily flashy movements.
She shifted uncomfortably, her arm brushing against the spot where the old man had touched her earlier. The memory made her skin crawl.
When she had killed him, she hadn’t stopped at just one stab. She had made sure he suffered, even as he lay dying.
The man had ruined countless students’ lives. He deserved every bit of it.
0033 sighed inwardly.
When people’s desires for money and power are fully satisfied, they turn into monsters—monsters who take pleasure in tormenting others.
“Here’s your ‘California Hotel,’” the bartender said, sliding over a glass of orange-tinted liquor that evoked the warmth of California sunshine.
On the small stage in the center of the bar, the jazz trumpet’s intro ended, handing the mood over to the piano. Now it was time for the pianist’s improvisation, with the bass and drums laying down the foundation.
Huh?
0033 was instantly captivated by the melody, her eyes drawn to the girl sitting at the piano.
She was stunning.
That was 0033’s first thought. She had always been confident in her own looks, but the silver-haired girl was so beautiful it made her feel a pang of envy.
But what was even more captivating was the girl’s improvisation—a series of elegant phrases that 0033 had never heard before.
“There’s a bit of Bill Evans here... no, wait, she only borrowed half a phrase, and then it turned into...”
0033 gradually shifted her focus from the girl’s beauty to the mesmerizing world she was creating with the piano keys.
Jazz had that kind of magic—it could make her forget the tension of her life as an assassin.
She became so immersed in the music that she didn’t notice the bomb hidden under a nearby table, its timer ticking down from 00:01 to 00:00.
It wasn’t until the sharp “beep!” sounded that she snapped out of her trance.
Oh no!
**BOOM!!!!**
The entire **Sour Lime** bar was engulfed in a deafening explosion, flames shooting into the air.
Customers, musicians, and bartenders were reduced to scattered limbs and flesh, turning the bar into a scene straight out of hell.
“Cough!”
0033, who had barely managed to find cover, spat out a mouthful of blood.
Her body was severely burned, and the shockwave from the explosion had caused massive internal damage. Her ears rang incessantly, drowning out all other sounds.
She fumbled in her pocket and pulled out her gun.
“I... was too careless. Who... who would dare to come after me?”
A group of black-clad men armed with guns burst into the bar, methodically putting a bullet in the head of every corpse they passed.
0033’s bloodshot eyes widened in despair as she recognized the familiar logo on their uniforms.
It was her own organization.
Suddenly, she remembered what had happened to 0032 five years ago—the man who had saved her, who had “disappeared” in a plane crash. She finally understood.
A bitter smile crossed her face. It seemed she was about to “disappear” too.
But why? Why would the organization do this to her?
As she stared down the barrel of the gun aimed at her, she realized that 0032 must have felt the same way back then.
**Clang!**
A strange metallic sound rang out—the sound of something hard being sliced cleanly in half.
0033 opened her eyes, realizing she wasn’t dead. She stared in shock at the bullet that had been neatly cut in half beside her body, and at the silver-haired figure standing in front of her.
It was the jazz pianist from earlier!
A straight sword glowing faintly red hovered beside her silver hair, its hilt adorned with a beautiful blood-red butterfly.
**Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang!...**
All the black-clothed gunmen were frozen in place. Catching a bullet with a melee weapon, pinching it between fingers, and then flippantly tossing it to the ground....
This scene... They had only seen in movies.
"You're still the same as ever, aren't you?" the silver-haired girl said, her voice icy and filled with disdain.
What followed was a slaughter so fast it couldn’t be seen with the naked eye. All the black-clothed men fell to the ground in the blink of an eye, cut down by chilling flashes of blade light.
0033 was severely injured, her consciousness blurring. The sight of this beyond-common-sense killing technique made her feel like she was caught in a nightmare.
Yet, the silhouette of the silver-haired girl somehow overlapped with the man from her memory—the one who had brought her back to the organization.
"00....32?" she murmured unconsciously before passing out completely.
Upon hearing this familiar designation, Ning Yu glanced back at the person on the ground and sheathed Blood Kite.
......
"0033, do you know what you're doing?"
In a meticulously decorated study, a middle-aged man with a neat comb-over slowly stood up and addressed 0033.
He was dressed simply, with flecks of grey already visible in his temples. His expression, though, was cold and stern, unwavering despite the gun pointed at him.
"Lower your weapon, and we can have a civilized conversation. Perhaps I won't pursue your insolence."
At that moment, 0033 had one eye covered by an eyepatch, her body wrapped in bandages as though she had just survived a catastrophic injury. Her hair was messy, falling loosely around her shoulders.
Kerry, the middle-aged man, spoke as he pressed a button hidden beneath the desk, but nothing happened despite his repeated attempts.
"Are the guys outside all useless?" he muttered under his breath, frustrated.
"Don’t waste your energy, Mr. Kerry."
Ning Yu, wearing a baseball cap, stepped out from behind 0033, the last drop of blood on Blood Kite evaporating.
Kerry turned to the silver-haired girl who had seemingly appeared out of nowhere, then to the knife in her hand, and felt a chill run down his spine.
Those at the pinnacle of the assassin organization had a keen sense of murderous aura. Kerry knew that if such an aura could truly kill, he would have been dead countless times over by now.
"Who are you? What exactly do you want?" he said, feigning calmness as his hand inched toward the drawer containing his pistol.
Ning Yu laughed carelessly, almost imitating someone’s manner of speaking.
"If you can't take someone's life without leaving a trace, then killing everyone associated with them is also a kind of assassination."
Kerry's heart sank at these words. His eyes narrowed like a serpent's as he fixed his gaze on Ning Yu.
"Are you... 0032's... daughter?"
Ning Yu slung the knife over her shoulder and strolled up to Kerry, casually knocking the small pistol out of his grasp.
"Who I am doesn’t matter..."
Blood Kite was suddenly pressed against Kerry’s neck with a quiet, threatening hum. He could even feel the knife's hunger for his blood.
"Why did you order the assassination of 0033, and all the other ranked assassins before her?"
Kerry swallowed hard, the proximity of death making him tremble.
"B-because... At most...three years. After three years, you all become a liability to the organization...in retirement."
"It’s happened before, many times. So the rule...has carried on..."
"So...retirement...is actually...eliminating you...to prevent future problems."
Ning Yu replied slowly:
"And all of you were orphans, weren't you?"
"How absurd!"
With that exclamation, she was about to slit Kerry’s throat with Blood Kite.
"0032!"
All of a sudden, 0033 turned the gun and aimed it at Ning Yu.
Still shaken from barely escaping death, Kerry was confused by this sudden shift.
What was this about? How could the stunning silver-haired girl before him be none other than 0032, the man who had supposedly died in a plane crash?
"0032, leave him to me."
0033 spoke in a cold, threatening tone.
"You've killed everyone else—outside, inside the organization. There’s only this one left."
"You have to..."
In the blink of an eye, Ning Yu’s knife moved. Blood Kite sliced cleanly through Kerry’s neck, decapitating him. He never even had the chance to scream. His eyes, wide with confusion and disbelief, were the last thing he saw.
"My dear 0033, I don’t recall teaching you to be deceitful."
Kerry’s blood was completely absorbed by Blood Kite. Ning Yu's eyes glowed with an eerie, dangerous red.
"Let me answer for you. You wanted to kill me, the only one who knows you as 0033."
Nying Yu stepped before 0033, letting the barrel of the gun press against her forehead.
"Cutting off all loose ends to avoid any future problems—that’s what I taught you."
"You’re doing very well."
Ning Yu gave a satisfied smile, her gaze on 0033 filled with the pride of a teacher watching a student’s graduation.
"So, what are you waiting for, 0033? Pull the trigger."
"You’ll be free. The world will only know you by your new identity."
0033 felt her hand growing sweaty. Staring into Ning Yu's blood-red eyes, she saw her own hesitation reflected back.
Yet, the thought of being so close to true freedom made her relent. There was no reason to hesitate at this distance.
She pulled the trigger.
"Pfft!"
Instead of the gunshot, a blade pierced through her abdomen from behind, splattering blood onto the floor.
The searing pain in her belly told her it was her own blood flowing out.
A bitter smile crossed her face. After learning under 0032 her entire life, she still hadn’t surpassed him.
"You’re not good at this," Ning Yu whispered softly in her ear from behind, her voice calm and languid, though 0033 couldn’t see her smile.
Blood Kite stirred inside her, drawing closer to sealing her fate and delivering pain and despair.
"Half the time you spent pulling that trigger was hesitation."
Ning Yu withdrew Blood Kite from her abdomen, the blade spotless as if it had never been stained by blood. She kicked 0033 to the ground.
“You should be a decent person in your next life.”
......
In a simple, serene room, 0033 suddenly sat up in bed, only to feel a sharp pain in her abdomen.
Her face was wrapped in bandages, as was her torso, indicating that surgery had been performed on both areas.
0033 found herself in an unfamiliar hospital room. In her hand was a brand-new ID card bearing the face of a stranger and a newly assigned name. This was her "next life."
As of today, the world had one fewer assassin named 0033.