The city never truly slept. Among towering buildings, narrow alleys, and neon-lit streets, people with powers walked side by side with ordinary humans. Some had simple gifts; others possessed abilities capable of leveling entire blocks. In this world, lies and betrayals usually came with consequences… especially when they crossed the wrong path.
Morwén was one of those people.
At 25, she carried danger in her very presence. Her green-and-black hair fell in long, messy strands, her green eyes observed everything with cold calculation, and her lips—always painted black—rarely smiled. When they did, someone died. Her body hid lethal powers: venom running through her veins, superhuman strength and agility, and speed so absurd few could even see her move.
Under the light rain that night, Morwén waited leaning against a concrete wall. That was when the white-haired woman approached. Her fox ears twitched nervously, her tail swayed slowly, betraying contained fury. She stopped in front of Morwén, took a deep breath, and spoke in a low, hate-filled voice:
— I saw him cheating on me. My boyfriend.
Morwén slowly raised her gaze, analyzing every detail of the woman before her.
— And what do you want from me? — she asked, her voice far too calm for someone so dangerous.
The woman clenched her fists. Her eyes shone—not with sadness, but with decision.
— I'll give you his address. I want you to kill him.
Silence fell heavy between them. For a second, only the rain filled the space. Then Morwén's black lips curved into a cold smile.
She said:
— Fifty thousand.
The woman blinked, surprised.
— What?
Morwén tilted her head slightly, black lips still.
— Fifty thousand in cash. Half now. Half when he's dead. — Her tone never changed. — Betrayal comes with a high price.
The woman took a deep breath, her fox tail twitching slightly.
— I… can manage.
She opened her bag and pulled out a thick, heavy envelope. The bills were neatly stacked, real, cold. She handed it to Morwén.
Morwén took the envelope, felt the weight without fully opening it.
— Thirty now — she corrected. — The rest after.
The woman nodded, not arguing.
— Now talk — Morwén continued. — Address. Schedules. Routine. Everything.
The woman swallowed hard and began:
— He lives in an old building downtown, sixth floor. Usually gets home after midnight. On Thursdays he goes out with friends… and lies while looking you in the eye.
Morwén listened to every word with absolute attention. A slow smile formed on her black lips.
— Perfect. — She tucked the envelope inside her coat. — I'll handle the rest.
The woman hesitated, voice almost breaking:
— Will he… suffer?
Morwén turned sideways, green-and-black hair dripping in the rain.
— Enough.
The envelope felt light in Morwén's pocket. Money was never what truly mattered. It was the motive. Always the motive.
She crouched on the roof of a neighboring building, cold wind passing through her green-and-black strands. With absolute calm, she drew the knife from the sheath strapped to her thigh. The blade was simple, clean—made to kill, not to impress.
Morwén ran her thumb along the side of the hilt.
The venom awakened.
An almost invisible liquid slowly coated the blade's grooves, released from her own body. It didn't drip. It didn't shine. It was silent, deadly. One cut was enough. Sometimes not even that.
— No need for much… — she murmured.
In the next instant, her body vanished.
She entered the apartment without a sound. The man had his back turned, distracted by his phone, too lost in his own lie. Morwén appeared behind him like a living shadow.
The knife touched his neck.
— N-no—!
The cut was precise. Small. Almost gentle.
The venom entered his bloodstream in the same second.
Morwén stepped back, watching. No rush. The effect was fast, but not instant. His legs failed first. The phone hit the floor with a dry sound.
— What… did you do to me…? — he whispered, struggling to breathe.
Morwén tilted her head, green eyes cold, studying every reaction.
— I said lies come with a price.
His body dropped sideways, muscles locking, heart slowing until it stopped. No screams. No struggle. Just silence.
Morwén wiped the blade with a dark cloth, sheathed it, and adjusted her coat.
— Contract fulfilled.
She left through the balcony, the night wind wrapping around her body as the city carried on, oblivious to one more truth ended.
Atop the rooftops, running under the moon, Morwén smiled.
Venom. Knife. Silence.
That's how lies died.
One day later, the sky was too clear for the news it carried.
Morwén waited sitting on an almost empty park bench, in the shadow of an old tree. People passed around her, talking, laughing, living—knowing nothing. Her green-and-black hair fell loose over her shoulders, green eyes alert, calculating everything.
The white-haired woman approached slowly. Her fox ears were low, tail stiff. She stopped in front of Morwén, unsure what to say.
Morwén looked up.
— He's dead.
The sentence fell heavy, simple, final.
The woman took several seconds to react. Air seemed to leave her lungs. She pressed a hand to her chest—not in pain, but in relief mixed with shock.
— You're… sure? — she asked, voice nearly failing.
Morwén stood calmly.
— Absolutely. — Her black lips curved slightly. — No more lies today, right?
The woman closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, something had changed. The hatred was gone. Only silence remained.
— So it's over… — she murmured.
— Over. — Morwén extended her hand. — The rest of the payment.
Without arguing, the woman took the second envelope from her bag. The bills were neat, clean. Morwén checked quickly and pocketed the money.
— No one will connect this to you — she added. — To the world, it was just another night that ended badly.
The woman swallowed hard.
— And you… — she hesitated — do this often?
Morwén tilted her head, green eyes flashing dangerously.
— Whenever someone lies or betrays. — She took a step back. — And whenever they pay.
The woman stayed silent as Morwén walked away.
Before disappearing, the assassin paused and said without looking back:
— Next time… choose better who to trust.
Then she vanished into the crowd, blending into the living city, leaving behind one freed woman… and one more lie buried forever