I - 𝒜 𝒯𝒽𝒾𝑒𝒻

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𝓣𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓻𝔂 𝓲𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓹𝓻𝓸𝓬𝓮𝓼𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓮𝓭𝓲𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰 


...


"Stop talking nonsense and get the money out!"

The man said angrily as the sharp blade of his dagger shimmered in the night. It was touching the slender neck of a girl.

The girl showed a panic look, she stuttered, "I, I only have a little money... "

"Just give me the fucking money!" The masked man shouted, "or I'll kill you now!"

The girl who was threatened nodded quickly, her eyes whelming up with tears. She trembled to put a hand into her backpack, shaking as she pulled out her purse. The man's eyes flashed with greed as he reached out to grab the purse.

At that moment, the girl who was once scared to even stand up all of a sudden elbowed the man's arm with a mercilessly knock. As he released his hand and yelped in pain, she aggressively snatched his dagger.

Then, without halting, she thrust the dagger into the man's right shoulder blade.

The man immediately let out a cry of pain--

"Fuc--!!!"

"Another fish had bit the bait." The red-haired girl, who had just looked frightened a few moments ago, smirked and rubbed the blood on her hands against the man's clothes, then took his wallet from his pocket.

When she was done, the girl bent down, pulled the mask off the man's face, and gave him a sweet smile.

"You mugged the wrong person tonight." With that, she spun around, and like a spirit that haunted the night, she glided into the darkness.

New York was just washed by fresh rain, and the streets were scoured clean.

Liz Carlisle walked slowly down the street, barefoot, wading through the puddles. She was wearing a black strapless dress, her long bare legs exposed in the not-so-warm spring days, her hand swayed, holding onto a pair of red high-heels. In between the fingers of her other hand was a shard of broken glass, marking the cars as she walked along the road.

Liz pursed her lips and hummed a song without expression. She was in a very good mood.

The slum area where her family lived was quiet these days. Since the abnormal thunderstorm, there were fewer and fewer gangs hanging around, she didn't know if they are scared or dead. But it also saved her the trouble of not having to worry about her mother being robbed of her money by them.

Thinking of this, Liz smiled brightly, stopped and scratched a big "asshole" on her neighbor's old red pickup truck.

She kept scratching without looking, humming merrily as she thought of the money she had just stolen. Liz was in such a good mood that she did not mind having a lot of mud sticking onto her feet.

She was about to climb along the pipe to the second floor of her house when she suddenly straightened up in alarm and realized that someone was coming in her direction.

Liz hid the piece of glass in her hand and saw that a figure had been vaguely formed in the mist not far from her house.

So late in a slum, must be a thug or serial killer.

Liz stared at the man and stepped forward slowly, daring with curiosity.

The figure in the mist was about six foot two, and was dressed not only in a well-fitting black suit, but also wearing a delicate dark green handmade scarf.

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