❝I really want to kiss you. Then kill you for making me feel these stupid emotions.❞
In which an assassin is cunning but so is the girl he was supposed to kill. Together, two polar opposites dive headfirst into unforeseen catastrophes and bloody co...
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Scarlet's point of view henceforth.
"What is it that you want?" was the lone question asked in a state of confusion or vexation.
In these circumstances, I asked out of pure relief and fright. I found comfort in the fact that the cause of my uneasiness no longer hid in the shadows but what now?
My eyes observed the aforementioned as his interest pan ed onto my lips, an action that might be taken wrongly if not known. I, however, could tell the action was not even close to one that indicated intimacy.
It was something else.
"We both have the answers to our queries," his eyes trailed back to meet mine. "It will be simple, Scar, if you cooperate."
I froze.
Scar? There was only one person who called me by that name. Him; the boy who worked me like one of his puppeteers.
It couldn't be.
"You wouldn't want the world to know what you did, would you?" he pressed.
"I don't recall what I may have done for the world to be so interested in," I replied back firmly.
The stranger gave me a smile in return, a rather charming one if it wasn't for the scar that blemished his fair skin. The fault started from his left eyebrow and lacerated over his eye, finishing its mark as it slanted to his cheek.
"That scar on your cheek, it has a story behind it — just like mine," he jutted his chin towards me. "I doubt you would forget such a memory so easily."
I mirrored his smile. "It's unfortunate I must've forgotten already."
That was a lie.
"Shame," the stranger tsked. "I thought it was certain he would've left more marks."
My lips twitched slightly in distaste but I kept my composure.
"Sir, I believe you've approached the wrong person," I reasoned. "Perhaps it's a coincidence the person you're looking for has the same name as me and a similar scar."
The man facing me examined every detail that lingered on my features, disappointment overtaking in his expression. "I'm an absolute fool thinking you would have changed."
"Like the old times," he sighed, "you've always been cunning in the way you lie."
"Are you calling me a liar?" I put a hand over my heart to dramatize how I felt. "You, stranger, should stop accusing people of such vulgar things."
