"I'd like to place an order for blue-coloured contact lenses, please," I say to the counter lady who, seeing my cloak labeled 06477, tenses up. "Do you have a reference?" she asks pleasantly, but any assassin can see the fear in interacting with us. The counter lady has just been replaced a while back, so I'm not quite surprised at how unfamiliar she is at the job. After passing her the picture of Princess Carla's eyes, I twirl my now blonde hair and glance around the base, seeming as though it's my first time here.
It's not, and it shows in how I can basically recall how the light hits the marble floor and reflects. The base is an exquisite structure - in fact not many will know it's a place for assassins to meet until they come into the building itself to see people walking around with cloaks inked with different numbers. Not that those people can come in beyond the first floor. The first floor contains many illegal stores for belongings assassins swipe away during missions, and those qualified can enter to purchase those items. However, lining the second floor, which is only open to assassins, are shops solely for the purpose of assassination - weapons, disguises and even jewellery we can indulge in to satisfy ourselves.
The basement is the only dangerous place here, where various assassins gather to train. I didn't visit there often because people tend to look down on females there, opting to go elsewhere either by myself or with Sixty-three. My eyes shift from the floor to my surroundings. And speak of the devil-
"Carlotta!" Sixty-three shouts as she lets go of the figure beside her to dash to me. I stand up instantly to meet her, only for her to crush me into a hug. Holding back my flinch, I gently shake her off. Sixty-three's hood has fallen off during the whole rush of activities, and I am once again caught in her beauty. Dark chestnut hair frames her stunning face in a way that no one has ever mimicked. Her green eyes practically bring more light into the world. Still, I have to remind myself that a face like hers is one of the factors that make her a master of seduction, and one must be mindful to not be lured into her trap, be it her friend or foe.
After successfully removing any contact of her with me, I swivel to meet the cold, ice blue eyes of her companion. To my dismay, upon checking the number printed on his coat, I confirm that it is fifty-six. I look at sixty-three in disappointment and toss a side-eye at fifty-six. Fifty-six pretends not to see my hostile glance, giving me a smirk beneath the mask he has on as greeting. I, likewise, ignore his existence, opting to start a casual conversation with sixty-three.
"It's been a while, hasn't it? How've you been?" I ask sixty-three, and to that she gives me a dazzling smile before replying, "It's certainly been a while! I'm all good, by the way, but you have to come to base more often - or at least contact me when you do. Otherwise, I'm going to end up being all buddy-buddy with fifty-six." She pokes him with her finger for extra measure. He doesn't move away like I think he will, instead staring at her with a strange look in his eyes, although it seems awfully close to mesmerisation. I know guys such as him all too well - they may call whatever butterflies that they have love now, but give it one or two months and they will leave the unfortunate girl who falls back for them.
I give sixty-three what I hope is a sad look. "I won't be back at base much for around a year. I have an important mission to handle," I say. Her green eyes widen at my revelation. "For real!?" Then, as if she has made up her mind, she grabs my arm and tells me with conviction, "I'm going with you." I pause at her words, carefully considering them in my mind until the counter lady interrupts my response by informing me that she has found the right shade of blue for my contact lenses.
"You can't go with me, sixty-three, you know it's impossible. Besides, you have commitments and friends in Poposi island," I do my best to deliver that sentence with a motherly voice, shooting a pointed glance at fifty-six. Sometimes, sixty-three's thoughtless words and careless decisions make me feel older than her mentally. But the special part about her is her ability to switch deftly from an eighteen-year-old girl foolishly enjoying her youth to a grown, professional assassin in the industry. I know many in the assassination industry who will kill the whole world to have the power to drop their burdens like she does and be someone normal for at least a minute.
"I'll finish all my urgent assignments in a week. And I don't have to be there all the time - maybe alternate months or something. It's only an eight-hour ride, Carlotta," Sixty-three argues, but I notice that her pleading gaze is also partially directed at fifty-six. The smirk he's maintained for the duration of our conversation drops instantly. "She's right, sixty-three. You can't be everywhere you want to be. Sometimes you have to make sacrifices," Fifty-six says, finally gracing us with his voice. I've read between lines enough to know the choice she has to make - between me and him. Sixty-three's gaze wavers at his ultimatum, but she steps closer to me.
"Fifty-six, Carlotta's the closest friend I have in this industry. Wherever she chooses to go, I go," she answers firmly. She glances at me for confirmation and I see a determination in her eyes that makes me nod.
"Sixty-three-"
"I'm going with her, whether you like it or not. And if you respect me even a tiny bit, you will know how much she means to me." Sixty-three's eyes soften a little as she says her next sentence. "I get that you want to be put first, given how fragile bonds made between people like us are. But I want you to remember that even if I say yes to the confession you told me yesterday, I will always, always prioritise her. If I put guys above my friends," she glances at me, "I don't think I deserve to be treated as a friend." Something fractures in me at her words and, without letting me process the fact that fifty-six confessed to her the day before, sixty-three pulls me away, casually swiping the contact lenses I ordered off the counter.
When we exit the headquarters, sixty-three stops and lets go of my hands. "I got a little carried away there. Sorry, Carlotta," she says with a sheepish smile. I, having digested the whole paragraph of words she said to fifty-six, feel an odd sense of sentimentalism, but I as always suppress that moment of weakness and start to assess sixty-three. "It's fine," I tell her, even though something in me feels different, and we stand awkwardly for a second before she starts a conversation again, "So what's your urgent mission?" I bite my lips at her question, shaking my head after a moment's hesitation. Sixty-three tilts her head in understanding and that makes us sink into silence again. Knowing that she will catch up, I turn to the direction of the academy and begin my journey back to school.
"Carlotta."
"Is there anything you need?"
"Don't put yourself in danger."
I pause, looking back to meet her eyes. "You know I can't promise you that, Sixty-three."
"I know," she replies, but I see the emotions in her eyes that are rarely present in assassins.
"Sixty-three," I walk back to her while saying, "You don't owe me for that time. You can go back and apologise to fifty-six and stay with him here. There's no need to follow me like this."
"You saved my life, Carlotta. I owe you this much." Sixty-three's hands reach for mine. She tightens her hold on my unresponsive ones. "You don't owe me anything," I repeat again, more forcefully this time when I realise why I feel so different from usual, "What I chose to do that time was simply due to convenience's sake. I could've just as easily left you to die."
"But you didn't! Don't lie, Carlotta, I know you hate to kill people. I know you hate that bloody place the most out of everyone in our agency." I pull my hands out of her grasp hearing her sentence. "I don't, okay? Stop deluding yourself into thinking that I feel anything! I! Don't! Care! About! Anyone!"
Too much, she was making me feel too much. Beyond the usual hate for my job and my compassion for those meant to be killed, she had opened the doors to my heart wider with her speech to fifty-six just now, allowing more foreign emotions to pour through. No, not foreign. Once, these emotions have escaped from my loosely-mended walls with ease, but I have long learnt the consequences of letting them run wild.
"I know you hate this, Carlotta. You were the one who told me so. Stop blowing hot and cold with me. I know this isn't the first time you've been like this, but it's not fair to me either." Amidst my internal struggle, sixty-three remains calm and resolute. And as much as my mind tells me it's more rational to accept the torrent of feelings in my heart, I let Carlotta take over the weak, emotional Aella, and steeled my eyes to meet sixty-three's.
"Not like I care whether it's fair for you." With that, I walk away from the cause of the destruction raging through me with the mask of Carlotta.
Authors' note: The next chapter will be posted on 3 November, or even earlier!!
YOU ARE READING
Labyrinth of Eternity
ספרות חובביםSixteen-year-old Aella always thought she had it easy in life. Even though ending up in an orphanage a few hours after being born meant she had a rough start, it doesn't change the fact that she is living comfortably, considerably rich and more fort...
