Asteria: A World Unbound

The train rattled through the countryside, snow streaking past the windows in pale blurs. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of damp wool and cigarette smoke. Passengers huddled in their coats speaking in low murmurs, their faces pale under the flickering lights.

A little girl, bundled in furs, weaved between the rows of seats, entering into the car from another.

She moved slowly, her small boots tapping lightly against the floorboards until she stopped in front of a man sitting by the window. His black coat with the collar was turned up, his posture deliberate. The seat beside him was empty—an intentional choice, a quiet corner away from the others.

His hands were motionless on his lap as he looked out the window, barely aware of her presence. He wasn’t reading nor shifting in his seat; he simply observed as the snow streaked past in a silent blur.

Other passengers dozed, fidgeted, checked their watches.

But he did none of that. He was aware—watching.

“Hello,” the girl took a step closer. “Mister… are you a soldier?”

Aaron glanced at her, his expression calm but watchful. “No.”

“Oh…” she said, unconvinced. “You look like one.”

He exhaled. “Do I? What makes you say that?”

“You’re too still,” she said, tilting her head. “Everyone else fidgets or talks, but you just sit there like you’re waiting for something. The soldiers are like that sometimes, too…”

“No harm done in being wary,” he said with a faint smile. “Maybe you’re right. I should work on blending in better.”

She frowned. “Why?”

“Bad time to be a soldier,” he murmured. “Hard job. High expectations. No rewards.” He tapped the armrest once. “Better to be a traveler. Easier to disappear.”

She glanced around, “There’s more of them lately. They don’t smile much anymore.”

“Mm,” Aaron murmured. “Understandable.”

The girl considered his words a bit before replying. “Where are you traveling?”

“The same place as you.” He nodded toward the window. “Moscow.”

She huffed. “That’s not what I meant. Where in Moscow?”

Aaron smirked and shook his head. “Not wise to ask a stranger too many questions.” He gave her a look—measured, not unkind. “But you’ve got a sharp eye, kid. I’ll give you that.”

She crossed her arms. “I’m not a kid.”

“Are you here alone?”

She shook her head. “No. I’m with my mother.”

He raised an eyebrow, glancing past her toward the aisle. “Then all the more reason to head back. Storm’s picking up. Don’t keep her waiting.”

“She’s not,” the girl confidently assured. “She thinks I wander too much.”

Aaron leaned in, just slightly—enough to command her full attention. His voice was low, but firm.

“The storm’s getting worse. Go check on her anyway. And listen carefully—if anything feels off, anything at all, take her to the back of the train. No questions. Understand?”

She hesitated before giving a slow nod.

“Alright. Good.” Aaron leaned back, his posture easy but his awareness never faltering. His attention remained on the girl, though his senses stretched outward, listening. The train hummed beneath them, the steady rhythm of rattling metal and glass merging with the distant murmur of conversation.

The girl lingered a bit, her fingers idly tracing the worn fabric of her sleeve as she weighed his words. But soon, without another word, she drifted away. She didn’t leave, however, settling instead into a seat a few rows down as she watched the blurred landscape rush past.

Hah. Aaron exhaled, shifting slightly.

Just then, her gaze shifted—past him, toward the aisle.

Aaron didn’t move, didn’t turn his head, but his eyes followed.

A tall man was making his way down the train car.

His coat hung stiff on his frame, his movements controlled. Too controlled. They weren’t the absentminded sway of a traveler but instead something measured, deliberate.

The girl, restless now, had started shifting from seat to seat. First by the window, then across the aisle. A quick glance out. A fidget. A sigh.

Eventually, just as the man drew closer, she wandered back toward Aaron.

She stepped aside to let him pass, but he wasn’t just walking around.

He was searching. Slowly.

Something was off.

Aaron remained still, his posture easy, unbothered. But beneath the surface, his muscles coiled, his hand drifting toward his coat. The girl turned back to him, bumping into his knee before catching herself. “Are you–”

Aaron moved.

Smooth, practiced like he had done this a thousand times before, Aaron drew his pistol, leveled it, and fired.

Two shots, center mass. A third, just to be sure.

The girl gasped, stumbling back, her eyes wide.

“Alright,” Aaron gave her a sharp nod. “Remember what I told you.”

For half a second, she froze. Then she turned and bolted down the aisle, vanishing into the cars behind. He exhaled, steadying himself. Slipping the silencer onto his barrel, he ejected the spent mag, slid in a fresh one, and racked the slide with a quiet click. Then, without breaking stride, he moved forward toward the front of the train.

◊◊◊◊◊

The metallic clank of the wheels reverberated, the low rumble of the train swaying like a pendulum. The sky outside was pitch dark, save for the train’s headlights cutting through the wintry fog.

Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack.

The steady rhythm of the tracks.

Then, the hum. Clear. Distinct. A subtle vibration underfoot as Aaron sank deeper into his seat. It seemed louder now. It always did after a fight. After the chaos of the last few minutes, he could finally take a breath.

The floor was marked by the aftermath—dark stains smeared across the once-pristine blue leather. But in the quiet, there was an unexpected stillness. The train’s motion, steady and uninterrupted, allowed his mind to settle, drifting into its own thoughts.

In moments like this, when his mind was sharpest, Aaron often wondered how he had ended up here. The cold bit deep, seeping through his layers, the bitter night wrapping itself around him. He’d cleared the middle of the train. They’d sent thirty—no, forty—people to guard the front of the train.

At one time, perhaps, he had longed for a simpler life—a life with a loving family, maybe a garden, hobbies that brought peace.

But then he remembered his mentor’s words: “Life is the reason for our existence. Everything else is a privilege.”

Aaron hadn’t understood it then, so he asked what it meant.

His master’s answer had been simple: “Whatever life gives you, acknowledge it as a privilege. Breathing, living—these are gifts. When you understand that, the world is yours.”

Was it true? Maybe. Maybe not.

But Aaron believed it. That belief had guided him for years now.

While other kids played in the park, enjoying their youth, Aaron was entrenched in war. Perhaps he’d been robbed of a childhood he could never reclaim, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. To Aaron, this path was better than a life of mediocrity.

The world was cruel. He knew that from the start. Orphaned, born in a place with little infrastructure, he saw the same struggles everywhere. People starved in the streets, parents lined up at the market for rations, and the cold, barren landscape remained ruthless to those unprepared to handle it. He at least had the benefit of knowing he had a place to sleep and a meal when he was younger, but even that was a precarious luxury.

It was moments like these that defined his world, when he gave thought to the meaning behind it all. Some thoughts were filled with anger, others with resentment, but most led him to the same questions and the same conclusion.

Why did people endure this? What was the point?

He’d determined that to exist meant to confront hardship. Those who overcame adversity would rise, gain power, and command respect. That was the path to meaning, a path of reason. After all, why choose mediocrity? A life like that felt hollow, uninspired.

Maybe he was simply naive, but how could he think any differently? From the start, he had been a pawn. He’d been dragged into this profession, and yet he chose not to leave it. There hadn’t been the time or the opportunity for anything else.

“Hey, wake up,” a sharp voice jolted Aaron back to the present. His head pulsed with exhaustion; three days without sleep had taken its toll. Just as he hoped for a moment to catch his breath, reality yanked him back. Despite his rigorous training, he found himself drifting in and out of consciousness.

Rubbing his eyes, Aaron met the gaze of the Russian figure before him—Asimov, his contact for the mission. Asimov studied him with a sharp, assessing look. The mission was simple: protect and rescue one man. For so many to die in pursuit of that goal, it made Aaron wonder: what earned a person that level of respect?

“They said you were good,” Asimov said, skeptical. “But you look like just a child.”

Aaron stifled a yawn, his voice dry. “Yeah, well—I did take out half the train,” he muttered, eyes half-lidded. “Cut me some slack. You got your director, didn’t you? That mess gave your guys plenty of time to get into position up top. You should be thanking me.”

“Yes,” he said, pausing for a moment, “But now you’ve involved civilians. Children, even. I didn’t think your organization would go as far as putting them at risk.”

Aaron gave a small shrug. “We follow the parameters we’re given. If avoiding civilian casualties was a priority, it should’ve been stated clearly in the contract. That kind of ask comes at a higher cost.” He leaned back, his tone steady. “At the end of the day, I’m a contracted asset. Your boss knew exactly what he was signing up for.” He paused. “Do you blame the knife for its sharp blade?”

“A tool with no regard for caution is dangerous. But what happens when it starts to rust?” Asimov said, his tone more contemplative now. “Worse still—what happens when the tool begins to think it’s something more? When it starts to grow a bad conscience?”

Aaron’s lips barely moved, his voice low but steady. “Listen, I do the job. That’s what matters. Isn’t that the same with you? You know how this profession works.”

The man’s eyes darkened slightly, “The work I do, I do for my people. The director will lead us to a better Moscow. That means a better future for my family.” He leaned in, his gaze unwavering. “You may have your use now, but I’ve seen where people like you end up. Get too big for the leash, and they put you down.”

Aaron’s gaze never wavered. After a beat, his voice lowered, almost to himself. “I know where this road leads.” His eyes shifted slightly, “But that’s a conversation for another time.” He narrowed his eyes to make a point. “I live my life the way I want to. Unless you want to challenge that… I’d suggest you keep quiet.”

Asimov said nothing, but he gave him a long, unreadable look before turning away.

Meanwhile, Asimov’s henchmen moved quickly, cleaning up the mess left behind. The train car was filled with lifeless bodies, each one being propped up in their seats with methodical precision. It was a tactic, simple but effective. If they needed a fast getaway, the police would likely check for the living first, giving them a crucial moment to vanish before anyone thought to examine the passengers.

“How long until extraction?” Aaron asked.

“Ten minutes,” the man replied. “Once we reach the station, securing the area is on you.”

“Got it.” Aaron said, but inside, he couldn’t believe it. He knew this mission would be tough, but he hadn’t expected them to be so unprepared.

He’d stationed a few colleagues at the arrival point—standard procedure. As the youngest, he played the novice, gathering intel and eliminating threats before they knew what hit them. It had worked so far. His superiors, though, rarely appreciated when he strayed from protocol. He’d probably get chewed out for the body count, but they couldn’t complain. That was simply part of the job.

Ring ring.

“Speaking of superiors,” he muttered with a sigh.

His phone vibrated in his jacket pocket. Aaron pulled it out and answered.

“You awake?” The voice cut through the silence, sharp and direct.

“As awake as I can be,” Aaron replied, his tone even, betraying no hint of fatigue.

“They’re reporting over half the convoy to New Moscow was wiped out. Is the target intact?” the voice asked, tone clipped.

“Yeah, that was me,” Aaron responded flatly.

“Explosives again?” came the incredulous reply.

“No need to get into the details,” Aaron muttered. “Most of them were expecting us anyway. I only took out the ones I knew were clearly armed.”

“But the target?”

“Unharmed,” he confirmed.

A brief pause followed. Then, a quiet click of disapproval. “ETA?”

“On schedule. No delays.”

“Understood. I’ll keep you posted. Our team is standing by.”

“Copy.” He slipped the phone back into his coat.

The Russian had been watching him closely. “Is that your contact?”

“Yeah,” Aaron simply said. “Why, you interested?”

“Tch,” he scoffed. “You know, you’re not what I expected.”

Aaron’s lips curved into a faint smile. “And what did you expect?”

“I guess I can’t say,” he admitted. “I know you’ve got a reputation for getting the job done, no matter the odds, but the details about you? Scarce. Some say you’re a prodigy. Others think you’re just a myth. You’ve kept your identity well-guarded.”

“Then perfect,” Aaron said, clapping his hands together. “That’s exactly how it’s supposed to be.”

Asimov studied Aaron for a moment before nodding slowly. “Well, the director trusted you, and he’s a good judge of character. For all our sakes, and for Moscow, I hope your plan works.”

◊◊◊◊◊

Three minutes left.

Aaron checked his watch, the faint tap of his glove against the glass barely registering beneath the grind of the train. The steel beneath them groaned, the lights above swaying in rhythm with the storm outside.

No words were exchanged. Across from him, Asimov stood silent, arms crossed, boots planted like he was expecting a war.

Aaron’s gaze lifted, steady and unblinking. “How much do you think a life’s worth?”

Asimov gave him a slow look, uncertain if it was a joke. “That depends,” he said cautiously. “Why ask now?”

“To me…” Aaron gave his own answer. “Not much. People live, people die. I’ve killed many before, and I’ll probably die the same way.”

Aaron reached into his coat and pulled out a sleek phone. A small red dot pulsed on the screen. He pressed it.

Boom.

The train rocked beneath them. A low, distant roar rolled down the cars—muted, contained, but powerful. Lights flickered once. The air shifted. Then came the sound of chaos—muffled shouts, screams, people scrambling at the far end.

Aaron slid the phone back into his pocket like it was nothing more than a receipt.

“Middle car’s gone. Gives us six minutes before the search spreads forward,” he said calmly. “Use it or don’t. Up to you.”

Asimov’s hand hovered near his coat. “You set a charge on the train?”

Aaron didn’t blink. “A little diversion.”

“You’re insane.”

Aaron tilted his head slightly. “Wow. Never heard that one before.”

A beat passed.

Asimov scowled but didn’t argue. He gave a low whistle, and at once his men began moving—communicating through glances and brief gestures, already sweeping the car for exit strategy.

Aaron moved past them like a ghost, unhurried, each step placed with practiced precision. A black duffel waited two cars down—right where he’d stashed it.

He unzipped it on one knee. Inside: clean clothes, scarf, gloves, neutral colors that didn’t stand out. He changed quickly, silently. The blood on his arms was nearly dry. The new coat covered it. The gloves masked the rest.

Behind him, Asimov followed, slower now. Warier.

Aaron spoke without turning. “The contract’s fulfilled. Your director’s alive, as promised. Moscow will welcome him. Whatever comes next is your burden.”

He paused, just long enough for the words to settle.

“When the dust clears,” he added, “tell him I’ll be cashing in a favor. Sooner or later.”

Asimov hesitated. His voice was quieter now. “You’re just going to walk out?”

“Very observant of you,” Aaron pulled his scarf up around his face.

Outside the window, flashing lights began to bloom against the snow. Sirens wailed in the distance, approaching fast.

“You’ll be on their camera surveillance,” Asimov warned.

“Trust me, I won’t.”

Aaron pulled the beanie low over his brow and opened the final door. Cold air rushed in, biting at the edges of his sleeves.

“I’ll handle the rest from here.”

He stepped out into the storm.

◊◊◊◊◊

Aaron perched on a rooftop, gazing at the aftermath of the explosion in the distance. Watching with Delta had become their post-mission ritual, a usual occurrence. She was the closest in age to him, about seventeen.

Delta sat down beside him without asking. They watched the smoke curl into the sky.

After a while, she said, “That was a public station, you know.”

Aaron didn’t respond right away. “… I know.”

She didn’t press—just sat with it—then said, “You timed it well.”

She paused a moment longer.

Then, quietly, she added. “There was still a lot of movement down there. Civilians. Elderly. Medics. Off-duty workers just trying to get home.”

He shifted his weight. “It happens.”

“You ever think it’s too much?” she asked, not looking at him.

His eyes stayed on the firelight flickering in the windows below. “Sometimes.”

She glanced at him, just briefly. “But not this time?”

“No,” he said. “Not this time.”

She leaned back on her elbows. “Clean enough, I suppose.”

“That’s something.” He looked over at her. “You’re not going soft on me, are you?”

“No,” she replied. “Just wondering.”

He let the quiet stretch a moment. “If it matters, I’ll try to be more subtle next time.”

Another pause. A breath of wind. Somewhere below, a dog barked, then stopped.

“You remember that outpost job last winter?” she asked.

“I do.”

“… It felt quieter than this.”

“It was colder,” he said. “But yeah. I know what you mean.”

She gave a faint smirk, then let it fade. After a moment, she shook her head. “Some lives matter more to some than others. Even if we don’t care, someone does.”

“Is that so?”

“I think so.”

Aaron nodded slowly. “If someone wants revenge, they’ll know where to find me.”

She sighed, amused. “You’re so dramatic.” Glancing over, she gave him a light tap on the chest. “Maybe one day you’ll pull a Grinch and grow a heart three sizes bigger.”

“Wouldn’t that be a sight,” Aaron murmured, leaning back.

She shifted gears without missing a beat. “Anyway—hungry? There’s a new Mexican place nearby. Supposedly worth the trek through this frozen wasteland.”

“In Russia?” Aaron raised an eyebrow.

She shrugged. “Maybe there’s a silver lining. World’s getting smaller. More connected. Especially with those peace deals we helped push through.”

“Well, Mexican doesn’t sound like a bad idea,” Aaron conceded.

⧫⧫⧫⧫⧫

Date: January 24th, 2050

Location: Hotel in Russia

Aaron had been taught to memorize a lot of things: names, dates, places, times, languages. Even the smallest tidbits, like the color of a sign or the orientation of specific board posts, could be vital in identifying where he was.

Initially, he dismissed it as somewhat pointless. However, his perspective shifted when he successfully pinpointed a location by examining a series of pictures provided by intelligence. It didn’t take long for him to identify the general area. And then, of course, bombing the living daylights out of it until the target was neutralized.

The knowledge he sought out was pretty varied as well. Sometimes he would dive into books about fantasy and science fiction, and other times he’d investigate literature about history. He even read a book about economics and business once. But despite his varied interests, at the end of the day, what he excelled at was being an assassin.

Unsurprisingly, he hadn’t been taught the shelf life of such a profession—maybe they never wanted him to retire.

He was still young. But was he meant to do this forever?

There were older assassins still in the field—men and women three, even four times his age. Maybe that was just how it went. The longer you lasted, the harder it became to stop. The accomplishments piled up. So did the reputation. Eventually, governments either wanted you dead, or worse, kept you alive to serve their interests.

Either way, going back to ‘normal’ stopped being an option.

“What are you doing?” Delta asked suddenly.

She glanced over at Aaron, who was casually reclining in his chair. After wrapping up their mission, they chose a nice hotel to keep a low profile. The room was spacious, just enough for them to play the part of well-to-do teenagers enjoying a stay during winter.

“Just playing a web game,” he replied.

“This late into the night?”

“Gotta do something.” Aaron shrugged, clicking his mouse.

Her eyes watched his screen for a bit before asking, “What’s the point of this game?”

“You’ve never played?” he turned to her, surprised.

She shook her head, moving in a little closer.

“Oh, well it just drops you somewhere on Google Maps, and you have to guess where you are,” Aaron replied. “You get more points if you guess faster or closer to the original location.”

“They really made a game for that?” she cocked her head.

“They have a game for anything nowadays,” Aaron returned. “Anyways. The point is, it’s pretty effective at improving memory and recall. It comes in handy on the job.”

“I see…” she murmured, nodding faintly. A longer pause followed before she added, almost offhand, “The news said a few kids were caught in the blast.”

“Unfortunate.”

“Explosives are messy, Aaron,” she said quietly. “Will you be more careful next time?”

“I did my best to avoid casualties,” he replied, voice flat. “But if we’re thinking like the opposition, some consequences are inevitable.”

“I see,” she said.

He glanced at her. “Didn’t think you were the type to flinch at these things.”

“You know kids are different, Aaron.” Her voice stayed measured, but her gaze sharpened. “Some of the people who died—sure. Maybe they were part of it, maybe they weren’t. But dragging children into it when it wasn’t necessary… that’s something else.”

Aaron was silent for a moment. “Maybe. But if it’s between risking a hostage situation or ending it early, I’d still make the same call.”

She didn’t look away. “The kids on that train were innocent. You know that.”

“I know.” He exhaled, his voice lower now. “And yeah—they didn’t deserve that. But neither do the ones growing up in bombed-out cities or being used as bargaining chips by people worse than me.”

Delta shook her head. “You always find a way to justify it.”

“I don’t justify it,” he said. “I just live with it.”

She hesitated, then gave a small nod, not quite satisfied but willing to let it rest. “Just… try to be safer next time, please.”

Aaron let out a breath. “I’ll try.”

With a pause in the moment’s resolution and a faint sigh, Delta turned to look at his screen. “What’s the name of that website?”

“You wanna play?” Aaron glanced over to see she had gotten her laptop out too.

Delta wasn’t one act ‘casual’ during their missions. Typically, she leaned towards the paranoid side, monitoring their surroundings for any potential intruders, but after a week without a hiccup, perhaps she was finally starting to relax. Though, that implied that Aaron would need to keep a watchful eye in her stead.

“Yeah, why not?” Delta replied. “Best score gets a favor from the other.”

“A favor? How big are we talking?”

“We’ll figure that out when it’s time to cash in.”

“Ah,” Aaron raised an eyebrow. “One of those favors.”

Last time he lost a bet like that, she made him dive into an ice-cold river in northern Russia—completely naked. No amount of training could make that pleasant.

After a few rounds, Delta picked up the game quickly.

The mechanics weren’t complicated, but it still took her a few minutes to find her rhythm. Her guess time dropped—from ten seconds to nine, then five, then three—until she was regularly locking in answers within two seconds. Over the next fifteen minutes, she sharpened her instincts, her guesses becoming faster and more accurate with each attempt.

For Aaron, he kept busy maintaining watch, but he couldn’t help but observe her progress from the corner of his eye. She was pretty good for a beginner, but then again, she’d had the same training he did, and she’d been at it for longer.

In a way, she came as close as anyone possibly could to understanding him.

To him, she was an even rarer person than he was.

Few women became assassins. Fewer still chose the kind of path she did. She preferred the field—direct action, clean kills—but there were lines she wouldn’t cross. Seduction, manipulation, the shortcuts their mentors endorsed—she avoided them not out of naivety, but principle.

Aaron had always respected that. Maybe more than he let on.

Once, he’d asked her, “Why take the harder path?”

She’d looked at him and smiled with a peculiar expression that he couldn’t quite decipher. Nonetheless, the words she spoke resonated with him more than he cared to admit. “What’s worth more than your own peace?”

Aaron didn’t argue. There wasn’t much to say.

Their line of work was already steeped in compromise—the rotten systems, shifting loyalties, cruelty passed off as order. He’d come to see it as the natural order of things: the strong wrote the rules, and everyone else learned to survive beneath them.

“Alright, I’m ready for the challenge now,” she finally said. “Do I just click the Party button?”

“Yep,” Aaron replied.

After a minute or two of configuring the lobby, they found themselves pitted against each other in identical scenarios. Naturally, it was both a timed race and a test of accuracy, yet the times between their guesses were narrow—consistently within a one-second difference. The determining factor for victory would be proximity to the actual location.

…

“Damn,” she frowned.

After about ten minutes of going back and forth, the gap between their scores started to get larger, and in the end, Aaron managed to secure the victory.

“To be fair, you only started recently,” Aaron reassured. “Like… twenty minutes ago. With some more practice, you’d probably be able to beat me.”

She waved him off. “You’re just being nice.”

“Maybe,” he said, half-smiling.

She stood, brushing off her pants. “Anyway. Let’s pick it up another day.”

Aaron nodded and returned his focus to keeping watch.

A few minutes passed in silent contemplation. They were likely fine after this long—he usually only kept his head down for a few days before moving on—but with how significant this mission had been, they’d opted to keep low for a while longer.

For Aaron, it was crucial to ensure that everything left no trace, and he was constantly aware to eliminate anything that could lead back to them. As for her, she was occupied with her weapons, always meticulous about their order. Whether the simple cache she carried with her or the collection she had back at the base, it was a priority for her.

Then, out of the blue, Delta asked something.

“Hey… do you actually see yourself doing this forever?”

Aaron glanced up. “What do you mean?”

“Ever thought of settling down?” she clarified. “You know, retiring and moving somewhere safe to start a new life?”

He raised a brow. “Are you dying or something?”

“No!” she laughed. “I’m not that much older than you, you know.”

“Sorry,” he said with a small smile. “Just… people usually ask that when they don’t have much time left.”

She leaned back slightly, gaze distant. “It’s just been on my mind lately.”

Aaron studied her for a moment, then nodded. “It’s not really for me,” he said at last. “I don’t think I’m built for that kind of life.”

“Why not?” she asked.

Aaron shrugged. “What would I even retire for?”

“So you could enjoy life,” she said. “Pick up a hobby. Learn something new. Maybe start a family?”

He shook his head. “Not a fan of kids. And I don’t like the idea of someone using them against me.”

“Then raise them to be strong,” she offered.

“Still doesn’t mean I want that,” he said. “Not now.”

She tilted her head, watching him. “But maybe someday?”

Aaron gave her a look. “Why the sudden interest?”

Delta let out a quiet sigh. “Just saying… this can’t be it forever. There has to be something after.”

“What we do changes the world. Maybe for the better,” Aaron replied.

“You believe that?” she asked, her tone soft but uncertain.

“I do,” he replied. “And right now, I think it’s more important for me to find out what I’m really capable of.”

She didn’t push further. Just offered a quiet smile, more thoughtful than cheerful. “Maybe. But I think you’ll come around. This life… it isn’t meant to last.”

“So,” Aaron asked, “what else do you want out of it?”

Delta leaned her head back, eyes on the ceiling. “Maybe kids. Someday.”

“Really?” Aaron asked.

“Not now,” she clarified. “But maybe later. I don’t know, I guess I like the idea of passing something onto someone. We spend so much time figuring things out… maybe the point is to leave those lessons behind. Even if our life was messy, maybe theirs doesn’t have to be as much.”

Aaron took a deep breath, thinking about her words.

Maybe she was right, but he didn’t know what a family was like, and it wasn’t something that really interested him.

“I guess I’ll see when I get older,” he thoughtfully responded. “Are you asking because you’d like to settle down with me?” he lightly teased.

She gave him a sidelong glance. “Was that a proposal?”

He blinked, caught off guard, then laughed it off. “I’m a bit young for that.”

“Just a joke, of course.” She smiled. “Still… it’s something to think about.”

“Eh~” Aaron narrowed his eyes in thought, “I still don’t really see myself retiring.”

“I often find that the world doesn’t ask what you see,” she said. “It just keeps moving. People change with it—whether they want to or not.”

“Hmm… then perhaps I’ll retire when I’ve achieved a certain goal.”

“And what goal would that be?” she questioned.

He thought about it for a bit before finally stating, “I’ll become one of the best assassins.”

“You’re not one right now?”

Aaron shook his head. “I don’t think this is the peak of my abilities. Not yet.”

She let out a soft laugh—not mocking, just a bit amused. “Alright. Then I’ll wait for that day to come.”