The Voskresensky Center was already alive, even in the early hours of the morning.
From the rooftop of a building across the street, Yuan stood completely still, unbothered by the biting cold that seeped deep into the bones. His dark coat did not separate him from the city on the contrary, it made him look like part of its shadows. His breathing was controlled. His gaze locked onto a single point.
The Center.
Glass-covered, towering, cold, and immaculate.
A perfect symbol of power.
Yuan pulled a small notebook from his pocket and quietly moved his pen.
Entry and exit times…
Security checkpoints…
Camera angles…
Every detail settled silently into his mind. This was not a task to be rushed. Assassination required patience. One wrong second could end everything.
The wind grew harsher.
Yuan raised his collar slightly. His fingertips were beginning to go numb from the cold, yet his face showed no sign of discomfort. He had been here for hours.
Waiting.
Sylas The Throne He Never Wanted
At the same time, in the highest meeting room of the Center, Sylas Voskresensky sat at the head of a long table.
His suit was flawless.
His posture impeccable.
His expression… empty.
"This decision is vital for the continuity of the Voskresensky administration"
Sylas's gaze drifted to the documents spread across the table. Numbers. Graphs. Endless sentences.
They all felt the same.
The state.
The bloodline.
Responsibility.
A deep irritation rose within him.
I hate all of this.
The speaker's voice faded into a dull hum. Sylas turned his head toward the window. The city was gray. Cold.
Just like the life he had grown up in.
His father.
His surname.
The throne.
He had never wanted any of it.
"Mr. Voskresensky, your thoughts on this matter?"
Sylas slowly turned back. A tired yet arrogant smile formed on his lips.
"Acceptable," he said shortly.
"Proceed."
Despite his inner resistance, he played his role.
Because he had no choice.
The meeting dragged on endlessly.
Yuan / Patience Wears Thin
Outside, Yuan continued observing the movement in front of the Center.
Too long…
His eyes flicked to his watch.
Longer than usual.
It unsettled him. He needed Sylas's movements his routine, his exit timing. But the meeting showed no sign of ending.
Andthen
Movement.
The main doors of the Center opened.
Yuan's gaze sharpened instantly.
A platinum haired man descended the steps, flanked by guards. Tall. Confident. Cold.
Sylas.
Finally.
Yuan quickly began taking notes. But just as he prepared to analyze further
Sylas didn't stop.
No press.
No crowd.
No hesitation.
He walked straight to his car.
The door opened.
Closed.
The vehicle moved.
Yuan's brow tightened.
"Tch!"
He exhaled sharply.
That's it?
Hours of waiting and Sylas left without leaving a proper trace. It disrupted Yuan's plan.
He added several firm lines to his notebook.
Dense schedule.
Sudden departure.
Unpredictable behavior.
This target was more troublesome than he had anticipated.
Yuan stared at the Center a moment longer before deciding.
That was enough for today.
Withdrawal
He blended into the crowd. His shoulders relaxed, his steps slowed. He was no longer an assassin just another ordinary man.
He boarded public transport.
Got off.
Walked.
The cold was harsh, but his mind was even harsher.
I'm not in a rush.
But time isn't infinite either.
Back in his hotel room, he locked the door, removed his coat, and sat at the desk.
The file.
He reopened the documents provided by the organization.
This time, carefully.
He stared at the photograph of Sylas Voskresensky for a long moment. His features… his gaze…
Familiar…
But from where?
Yuan frowned, forcing his memory. Nothing surfaced.
It didn't matter.
He turned the pages.
Security reports.
Routines.
Weak points.
He picked up his pen.
A new plan was forming.
Calmer.
Deeper.
Deadlier.
Yuan closed his eyes and took a slow breath.
"This time," he murmured to himself,
"you won't escape."
Outside, the snow continued to fall.
And the city remained unaware of the approaching storm