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"Who are you? Why are you here?"
"And those damn island dogs. Can't even guard a door properly. I wasted a fortune on them."
In the underground world, the law of the jungle was even harsher.
Poor at midnight, rich by dawn. People only chased brilliance, not eternity. Massive rises and falls were the norm, and very few big shots ever met a good end.
To secure their later years, most used the money earned with their lives to build ironclad fortresses.
Jo Murakami was no exception.
The bedroom had been specially modified. It was strong enough to withstand rocket fire and had excellent soundproofing.
Even if a war broke out outside, not a single sound carried in.
Yet Steven descended like a divine soldier. Jo Murakami was panicking hard.
"Don't ask who I am. I'm not interested in who you are either."
"The guy in the photo. That's you, right?"
Whoosh!
Steven flicked the photo away with two fingers and sent it skidding across the room.
In his eyes, Jo Murakami was already nothing more than a cold corpse.
That said, getting into the bedroom had only been possible thanks to the card he'd fused from Brother Wolf.
Picking locks and sneaking in came as a built-in skill, something he'd mastered without anyone teaching him.
Otherwise, cracking a specially modified combination lock would have taken a lot more effort.
"You sent by the organization?"
Jo Murakami's face changed instantly. He yanked a gun out from under his pillow.
Whoosh!
A cold flash of steel. The gun in his hand snapped cleanly in half.
The two women screamed and collapsed into the corner. Their instincts told them to run, but Steven blocked the way out. They wanted to flee, yet didn't have the guts to move.
"Think a gun makes you invincible? Don't pull that crap in front of me."
"I have to admire your attitude toward life. Even on the brink of death, you didn't forget to enjoy some abalone. Guess you don't have many regrets left."
If it had been an ordinary assassin, Jo Murakami might have managed to struggle a bit with just a handgun.
Unfortunately for him, he'd run into a man with cheats enabled.
"Don't kill me. I'll pay you!"
Staring at the gleaming blade in Steven's hand, Jo Murakami completely lost it.
He scrambled to open the bedside drawer and pulled out a checkbook and pen.
"How much is my life worth? Name a number!"
Money makes the world go round.
Jo Murakami had spent half his life in the underworld and knew that cash could smooth over almost any problem.
Pay enough, and buying yourself another chance at life was no big deal.
Steven just smiled, saying nothing, his cold gaze fixed on Jo Murakami.
"Five hundred thousand dollars?"
"One million?"
"How about six million?"
"..."
Unable to read Steven at all, Jo Murakami kept raising the price.
"Twenty million dollars. That's everything I have. All of it."
Seeing the final number written on the check, Steven raised an eyebrow.
Twenty million dollars was a staggering sum.
Jo Murakami didn't hesitate for a second, and there wasn't even a trace of pain on his face. Steven cursed inwardly. This guy was clearly playing him for a fool.
All his assets?
More like the tip of the iceberg.
The organization wasn't paying a cent for this mission, so pocketing some extra cash wasn't a bad deal.
"Money's a good thing. Who in this world doesn't love it?"
"Oh right, almost forgot. Does the organization have a mole secretly in contact with you?"
Steven put the check away, an unreadable smile tugging at his lips.
"No comment!"
Most of the time, an ambiguous answer like that was basically an admission.
That was how it always went in movies and TV shows.
Steven's smile vanished, his eyes turning cold again.
"Relax. I'll leave the island tonight, head back to Monkey Country, and start over with a new face. From now on, Jo Murakami won't exist anymore."
Jo Murakami was being very cooperative, arranging his own disappearance neatly so Steven wouldn't have any loose ends to worry about.
"Since you're already a dead man, I'd like to borrow something from you."
"Go ahead. Anything I have is yours."
"Your head. If I don't take it back, it'll be hard to explain things to my paranoid boss."
Steven had his own principles. A mission had to be completed.
Compared to the twenty million Jo Murakami was offering, the organization was the long-term meal ticket.
One full meal versus eating well forever. The choice was obvious.
"You promised you'd spare my life if you took the money. Going back on your word, is that something a man does?"
"Did I ever promise that?"
That one sentence nearly made Jo Murakami spit blood.
It was true.
From the moment he pulled out the checkbook to the moment he wrote the number, Jo Murakami had been talking to himself. Steven had never agreed to let him live.
If he never agreed, then it wasn't going back on his word.
"You bastard! You think I came to this country without making preparations?"
"If you dare lay a finger on me, you're not walking out of this room alive!"
"Twenty million dollars. You don't want to die with money you can't even spend, do you?"
Cornered, Jo Murakami's eyes turned savage.
A trapped dog will jump the wall. A desperate rabbit will bite.
If death was inevitable, he'd gamble his life for the tiniest chance to survive.
"I hate threats," Steven said lazily. "While you were enjoying your abalone, every bodyguard you had, out in the open or hidden, was already taken care of by me."
"Just stretch out your neck. One clean cut, I take your head and leave. You won't have to suffer any extra pain. Sounds pretty good, doesn't it?"
Steven snorted in disdain and wiped his blade with his sleeve.
"You're wrong. This is my trump card!"
Jo Murakami reached behind the headboard and pulled out two grenades.
What a real hero.
Even Steven had to admire the man's guts. Hiding grenades in the headboard. Wasn't he afraid they'd go off in the middle of the night?
"If I'm dying, I'm taking you with me."
"Heh."
Steven chuckled contemptuously. He feinted with his blade, snatched one grenade, pulled the pin, and casually popped it into his mouth.
Boom!
A dull explosion echoed. Steven's cheeks puffed out as he opened his mouth and spat out a cloud of black smoke.
"That's your big test for me? Who are you looking down on?"
When it came to explosives, he was a professional.
After being remodeled by the Bomb-Bomb Fruit ability, Steven himself was basically a living bomb, completely immune to explosive damage.
A mere grenade was nothing.
"Monster… you're a monster…"
The scene before him shattered Jo Murakami's understanding of reality. He completely broke down.
Steven didn't want to waste any more time. With one clean motion, his blade fell and Jo Murakami's head rolled.
He tore off a bedsheet, wrapped it up simply, glanced at the two girls trembling in the corner, and walked straight out.
According to the organization's rules, every mission had to be cleaned up perfectly, without leaving a single trace.
But Steven had his own principles.
The two girls hadn't interfered and posed no threat. There was no need to slaughter them.
As for whether they would cooperate with the island nation's police afterward, Steven didn't care in the slightest.
He was already a sworn enemy of both the island nation's police and the American FBI. One more charge or one less made no difference.
Once you've got enough lice, a few more bites don't matter. What was two extra cases?
Besides, Steven had his own plan.
He wanted to see what Gin would do if this mission wasn't handled cleanly and the island nation's police really made it public.
If Gin followed his usual style and erased the problem entirely, that would give Steven the perfect excuse to replace him.
Anyone who objected would be killed.
Even if the boss behind the organization, Renya Karasuma himself, showed up, it would be the same.
"....."