Chapter 3

Fallon’s POV

Being an assassin meant being an actor. Sometimes, the thin line between you and your life depended on how good you were at being a lie.

To make your mission successful, you must be able to play the cards that would lead you to your platter of gold, your target.

Human targets were always easy to eliminate. With them, you might not need to get within proximity to deliver their fate. But the vamps were an entirely different case. You would be putting your life at risk, and that was why vamp hits had a higher pay.

Higher risks equal higher pay.

You would think that after living for centuries, the vamps must have cracked the code on how civilizations could exist in peace.

The kind of career I have is proof that even they had failed in that or didn’t even attempt.

If anything at all, vamps enjoyed carrying a grudge as much as they enjoyed their immortality.

Their powerful and wealthy society consisted of members who wanted one another gone, but unfortunately, due to some laws, they were restrained from carrying out the deed themselves.

And that was how I had a job.

I packed up everything I was going to need for my next trip. From liquid and powder Elixir to scent shields.

The immortality of vampires is not the only attribute that keeps them above humans. Their supernatural abilities add to the list.

One of those abilities included tracking human scents. Using perfumes that had been mixed with scent shields prevents that from happening to me. A scent shield makes you untraceable from any vamp who might decide to come after you by hiding your natural scent.

I carefully placed the new set of eye contacts in my eyes. And then, I picked one of the numerous fake faces I had in stock.

A fake face is simply a light mask that is fitted gently to a real face. Before that is done, a special oil is rubbed on the face to moisturize it and protect it from any harm. Then, the fake face is gently stuck to it.

Some powerful vampires can make traces by digging into the memories of others. The eye contact and face masks are my shield against that ever happening to me.

My last step to ensuring my protection is the use of wearing fake skin on my palms. With its glove-like look, it is stuck gently to the palm and fingers.

Again, it protects against vampires that can make traces by touching the things their targets have touched.

Although traveling by train means having to switch trains sometimes, it remains my favorite method of transportation. It is the perfect place to remain in the shadows.

The details of my next job raked through my mind. The target was a male, a vamp, and would be staying in the Tixon Hotel, one of the luxurious hotels in the Republic’s capital.

He was due to arrive in the capital in a week, and I had limited time to plan how to get the job done.

After three days of watching Tixon, the stars of luck shone on me. Tixon had strong security measures and was almost impossible to break into. From childhood, I had been taught that no place was impossible to break into. If you look closer, there is always a flaw, no matter how little.

However, I didn’t have sufficient time to spot that flaw in Tixon. Hoping to gain more knowledge of the interior details of the hotel, I selected a few of their staff and focused on tailing them.

It is bewildering how much information one can get from listening to a loose-mouth staff groan about how much he hated his job.

One of the bellhops at Tixon hated his job so much that he wouldn’t stop talking about how he hated cleaning after rich people.

On one of his rants in his frequent downtown bar, I listened attentively.

He gulped down his glass of beer.

His companion gave a hearty laugh. “Slow down, Clide. I don’t know how you sober up in time for work with the way you drink.”

Clide snorted. “Work my ass.”

His companion chuckled again. “You do know many would kill to have a shot at Tixon as a bellhop. That’s where these rich folks and vamps dine. Working at Tixon is a gold mine.”

Clide huffed. “There is no gold mine in cleaning after the bloody vamps and the one percent of humans who dine with them.”

Clide’s friend looked around them in fear. “Shh, keep it down. Are you trying to get us killed?”

Clide still looked unbothered, probably because he was drunk.

“See what I’m talking about. We humans live in fear every day. We don’t say what we think because of our fear of them. We are nothing but slaves, fed with scraps and forced to serve them every day. All of us are slaves, including the so-called one percent of rich humans. They are nothing but slaves dining and smiling in front of their oppressors because of greed.”

“It’s the way the world works. Maybe when you die, you can come back through birth as a pure-blooded vamp.”

Clide was unimpressed by his friend’s attempted joke.

“What if the world doesn’t have to work this way?”

“What do you want to do? Fight them?”

Clide’s companion added a chuckle after his comment.

“Yes.”

The poor friend stopped chuckling and looked around in fear again.

He smacked his friend’s head. “Stop saying nonsense. You don’t know who is listening.”

Clyde sighed. “What if we stand up to them and say no to centuries of oppression?”

“For the last time, Clide. Stop it. If you keep talking nonsense like this, you will find yourself dead or, even worse, an actual slave. How can you stand against people who have abilities and are stronger than you? You’ve got a good job at Tixon. Something most of us don’t have: be grateful and shut up. This is the way things are; they have always been this way and will continue to be so.”

Clide seemed to have finally listened to his friend and kept his mouth shut.