Tuesday, July 20, 1740
The Train Station.
Lyxander stood exactly behind the yellow line. His feet were parallel, his posture upright, but his mind was submerged. His vision was slightly blurred—not due to any physical ailment, but because he was lost in thought.
"My defining trait?"
The question resurfaced. Currently, Lyxander possessed three types of identities he could forge, but the longer he pondered, the clearer it became that his greatest obstacle wasn't which identity to form, but how to form it.
Identity is not a tangible object. It isn't something that can be chosen as simply as picking out clothes. Identity is an abstract concept, something born from a person's experiences, beliefs, and decisions.
What differentiates you from everyone else?
That question wasn't merely philosophical. For Lyxander, it was a question of existence. It was about his self-worth, about the very meaning of his presence in this world.
Unfortunately, Lyxander's contemplation was severed by a woman's voice echoing throughout the station.
"Attention to all passengers, please stand behind the yellow line for your safety."
Seconds later, a rumbling sound began to roar. The wind whipped stronger as the train entered the platform.
Lyxander raised his head.
The train had arrived.
He stepped inside.
Thump!
His heart hammered against his ribs.
After acting as the "Crow" for quite some time, that identity had begun to merge with him. Without Lyxander realizing it, the transformation had granted him a new ability: he could sense the presence of Entities and Identity users.
It didn't come from sound or sight, but rather a subtle pressure that pressed directly against his survival instincts.
Inside the carriage, there were only two men.
The first was an elderly man with a hunched back. He was bald, his skin heavily wrinkled, yet his body did not appear frail. He sat calmly, both hands resting on an old wooden cane.
The second—
A man with white hair, wearing a sharp white suit. His demeanor was relaxed; he stood tall rather than sitting, his expression calm—too calm.
Lyxander froze.
In a split second, his mind raced.
'Two Identity users.'
If he stayed on, he risked getting caught in a confrontation. If he got off, they might notice his sudden retreat—which was equally risky.
The aisle of the carriage felt like it was narrowing.
For a moment, Lyxander hesitated.
Ultimately, he turned around and decided to step out. Waiting for the next train was clearly the safer choice, even if they realized he was fleeing.
However—
Too late.
The train doors hissed shut.
His ability to think fast was his greatest strength, yet it often made him oblivious to his surroundings. He hadn't heard the announcement that the doors were closing.
The train began to move. Lyxander was forced to sit in the nearest empty seat. He put on his headset, tilted his head, and pretended to sleep, hoping they would ignore him.
As if fulfilling his wish, the man in the white suit began to speak.
"Old man, shouldn't you be retired by now?"
'Retired?' Lyxander eavesdropped.
"Hector," the old man's voice was small but firm. "Someone who kills merely for sport like you will never understand the feelings of a veteran like me."
"Oh?" Hector arched an eyebrow. "So, what exactly are the 'feelings' of a veteran?"
'A killer!'
Lyxander clenched his toes. His muscles tensed, like someone trying to suppress a sneeze. His instincts screamed at him to run, yet his body remained still.
"I was a killer even before Double A was founded. In that era, lower-class women could only become prostitutes to survive. As for the men, what do you think they could do?"
"Who knows? After all, men have more options than women, don't they?" Hector replied.
'Wait, Double A!?'
Lyxander gained a clear picture of these two men. They were assassins from Double A. Though it was only a guess, he was certain he was right.
The old man went silent for a moment.
"You are right. Men have more options, but only for those with an education."
The old man continued. "Uneducated men like me could only curl up and starve. If we wanted to be laborers, companies only wanted those registered with the Labor Association. If we wanted to trade, there were taxes from the government and the mafia to be met. In a world of options filled with restrictions, there were only two final choices: join the mafia, or become a killer."
"Yawn..." Hector let out a loud yawn. "Oh, are you finished?"
The provocation didn't seem to work. The old man remained sitting calmly.
"So, old man, what does that have to do with your reason for not retiring?"
"You truly don't understand?" The old man provoked him back. "Even the young lad eavesdropping over there seems to get it. I want to die as a killer."
The pressure hit.
A killing aura so thick it struck Lyxander like a giant sledgehammer. His chest felt crushed by an invisible weight. He gritted his teeth, struggling to open his eyes—
Empty.
The carriage was silent.
The two men had vanished.
"Hah… hah…"
He panted heavily. Cold sweat poured down his forehead. He had just stood before two monsters—and survived.
His body slumped. "Damn it... I hope I never run into them again."
•••
The Bus Stop
The journey felt grueling after that brush with death. When he finally reached the last station, Lyxander continued his trip until he arrived at the bus stop.
Sitting beside him was a beautiful woman with brown hair. It was Natanael. Lyxander still felt the crushing weight of that killing aura; he had no interest in talking.
"What's wrong?" Natanael asked.
Lyxander looked at her. Although she appeared cold, Natanael was actually quite caring. Knowing this, Lyxander didn't want to make her worry, so he decided to tell her about the incident on the train.
Natanael listened without interrupting. But instead of being shocked, a look of confusion crossed her face.
"You haven't watched the news?"
"The news?" Lyxander had caught a glimpse of the news earlier, but only for a moment.
"About the arrival of the Second Prince," Natanael explained.
"Ah!" Lyxander remembered. He had indeed seen a report regarding the Second Prince's visit. Lyxander was sharp enough to immediately draw a conclusion.
"So the assassins from Double A are here to kill the Second Prince?"
"Correct. And it seems we will be on an escort mission."
"An escort mission?" Lyxander asked.
"Imperial officials or high-ranking nobles always have political rivals or people who want them dead, so they hire assassins. Among those assassins, there will be Identity users, so the task of guarding the Empire's elite falls to us," Natanael clarified.
"I see..." Lyxander mused for a moment. The Second Prince of the Accursed Empire was clearly a candidate for the next Emperor. It was no surprise that many formidable killers would be involved. This meant he was about to face his first major battle.
His hands shook slightly.
He had fought Entities before and knew the extent of an Identity's power. This time, he would be going head-to-head with actual Identity users.
'If I want to survive—'
Lyxander now felt a dire urgency to immediately forge a 2-Star Identity.