The heart Killers ( English translation)

*CHAPTER 1*

......

Because his job as an assassin required frequent relocations, Bison never said, "Here we go again, moving once more," even though it was impossible to count how many times he'd moved by now. Each time he relocated, he couldn't resist taking a drive to explore his new neighborhood, seeing where the shops, restaurants, or laid-back bars might be.

While driving around, he came across a bowling alley that transformed into a half-pub at night, from early evening until midnight. After clocking out from work, his stressed body seemed to call out for a drink to ease the tension.

Bison parked his car and sat alone, quietly sipping a beer in a place where it was more fitting to come with friends than to sit by oneself.

He had changed his clothes. Gone was the fitted black attire he wore for work; now he was dressed in a pink, graffiti-patterned short-sleeved shirt. He wore only minimal jewelry-just a few rings, earrings, and a necklace-carefully chosen to enhance his unique charm.

At first glance, he looked like any other young man. And yes, sometimes he still felt like having a bit of fun.

One hand resting on the table, the other reaching for the ice-cold beer bottle to take a drink. His lips moistened from the bitter liquid. After letting the beer linger in his mouth for a moment before swallowing, Bison ran his tongue across his lips. His sharp, narrow eyes drifted toward the bowling lanes, his senses fully alert. He watched the bowling balls roll down the lanes, striking the pins and scattering them. The repeated sound of pins crashing from other players was oddly calming, happening over and over again until he lost count.

Bison's senses were always sharp, so it didn't surprise him when he sensed he was being watched. When he turned, he saw two pairs of eyes already looking his way. One quickly looked away after being caught, but the one who seemed to have initiated the glances smirked slightly at the corner of his mouth.

The other guy's eyes were beautiful-round, glossy black, as if always wet. They looked like the eyes of a flirtatious type. If you wanted serious love, you'd avoid men with eyes like that. But if you wanted an exciting, new experience, you'd return a small smile, send a signal...

Bison was sure he knew a thing or two about romance, especially with someone that good-looking. For a moment, he broke eye contact, downed the rest of his beer, and stood up from his table to approach the lanes.

The colorful lights decorating the venue gave it a lively atmosphere. Bison grabbed a bowling ball, searching for one with a weight that felt right in his hand. He noticed that the attractive guy-tall, around 185 centimeters-was walking over. Two more steps. One more step...close enough.

"Mind if I say hello?"

"Does something like that need permission? But...permission granted."

"My name's Kant. And you are?"

"Just call me 'you'-that's enough. The guy at the table-is he your friend?" He gestured back to Kant's table, where the sweet-faced guy avoided eye contact again when caught looking over here, pretending to inspect his nails, clearly unaware he'd been glancing this way the entire time.

"Yes, his name's Style. I noticed you came alone, so if you don't mind, maybe join us at-"

"I'm not comfortable," Bison interrupted, though he smiled, his eyes curling into crescent shapes.

"Wow, won't even tell me your name, and you're so blunt. I'm even more interested in you now."

"Actually, it's not that I'm uncomfortable. Your friend's cute. I was just teasing you a bit. You look like the type who enjoys playing with stubborn cats."