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Ryan immediately felt like he'd wasted a great deal of emotional investment. He'd imagined so many possibilities.
Once he confirmed this man's only agenda was keeping his rendezvous to himself, Ryan stepped back and gave them some distance.
He had no interest in eavesdropping. For him, theory had always been less appealing than practice, and observation far less satisfying than doing — whether at school or anywhere else. He'd never had much interest in study materials or two-dimensional characters for that same reason. With that time, why not find a girlfriend? Isn't firsthand experience more interesting?
"Shame that in the end, games got in the way." He sighed.
Before transmigrating, he hadn't so much as held a girl's hand. Entirely the games' fault.
But he didn't leave. Even if the man's purpose had been anticlimactic, the man himself was still worth watching. In a slum where eating regularly was a question mark, making time for a secret meeting with someone was unusual in itself.
Then again, it could be a genuine relationship. In a place with essentially no law enforcement, a bit of secrecy was hardly suspicious.
He found a position that wouldn't lose sight of the exit when the man came back out, then settled in. The sounds from below were no longer audible — but knowing the two of them were down there doing whatever they were doing had a way of leading his thoughts somewhere unhelpful.
"Come to think of it, the big idiot was single, wasn't he?"
He checked — confirmed. Partly because the big idiot had been deep in gambling during university, partly because his build was about as far from "gentlemanly" as you could get.
"Worse off than me." Ryan felt an unexpected flicker of sympathy for the man.
Which led him to seriously consider finding an opportunity to make up for both of their missed experiences. His circumstances, if you were being pessimistic, didn't allow him to make long-term promises to anyone. But nothing about a relationship required declarations of forever.
He wasn't the type who thought emotion was a prerequisite for intimacy — after all, marriage itself wasn't necessarily built on feeling. That didn't mean he'd be careless about it. He just wouldn't invest out of loyalty — he'd invest because if you weren't going to take it seriously, what was the point of starting it? To cheat and enjoy the thrill of it? He understood the appeal of transgression as a concept. He just had no respect for actually stringing people along. Anyone who got themselves killed for it, he'd only think: you had it coming.
For his own part: if he ever fell out of love, or regretted a choice, he'd end the relationship or marriage first — and then think about anything else. He had never feared change, and never cared what anyone else thought of it. Once he decided something didn't fit, no amount of outside opinion would change that. He wasn't incapable of considering others' feelings — he just refused to sacrifice himself for them in matters of real importance.
Same as when he'd chosen to work in a city far from home and only returned for the New Year. He'd known how his family felt. It hadn't changed anything.
His own feelings came first. Everything else was optional. The warmth of family harmony, parental understanding, devotion in a marriage, the approval of others — he was willing to work for these, but he wouldn't become dependent on them or treat any of them as non-negotiable.
So the calculus was simple: if the risk of leaving his life incomplete outweighed the risk of complications, he'd take the chance. Having something within reach and letting it slip by for reasons that were ultimately avoidable — that was the kind of regret he genuinely couldn't accept.
He'd always thought there was nothing wrong with enjoying the present. Giving up what you have now for some better option that might exist in the future struck him as foolish.
Just don't let enjoyment make you blind to risks you could have foreseen.
But after thinking it through at length, Ryan couldn't actually figure out how to pursue this without either making promises he couldn't keep or incurring risks he couldn't manage. He was an Assassin, not a doctor. No means to assess certain kinds of risk.
"Other than not having to work, this transmigration doesn't seem to have changed much." His enthusiasm deflated slightly.
Before transmigrating, his perpetual single status had been about more than just games. He didn't act on hope alone — if there was a real chance it went wrong, was that something he wanted to risk? Probably not. Desire was one thing; reckless pursuit was another. So for now, he put it away and decided to wait for the situation to clarify.
"Wonder if any supernatural ability can solve this problem." He filed the thought away with some genuine curiosity.
Unmet expectations had a way of putting you on edge. And knowing the two people next door were in the middle of things was not helping.
Eventually, patience running thin, Ryan decided to add a little excitement to the situation. Dislodging something in a half-collapsed ruin without making it look suspicious was trivially easy. With minimal effort, a protruding piece of rotten timber snapped with a sharp crack and fell — taking Ryan, who had been balanced only on the tips of his toes, along with it. The broken piece clattered and bounced down through the collapsed half of the ruin, raising a sound that was neither alarming nor exactly quiet.
The noise from below ceased instantly.
Ryan nodded, satisfied, and resumed his position.
At least he felt better. And ideally, if the two of them finished early, he'd be able to follow the man and find out where he lived and what he did.
Of course, wishing was one thing. With the goal of leaving no trace of his presence, there was only so much an Assassin could do. Against ordinary people an Assassin didn't need to be this careful — but the church wasn't the only concern. What if one of the criminals operating in the slums happened to be an Extraordinary? They were rare, but in a high-yield, high-risk profession, encountering a few wasn't out of the question.
And Ryan still knew far too little about the supernatural abilities of this world. Without care, he might stumble into something with abilities so strange they defied logic — and not even realize he'd been exposed.
His own Featherfall was one example: to anyone without prior knowledge of the Assassin's abilities, catching one would be nearly impossible. The best defense against being detected was making sure no one knew you were there. The most perfect disappearance was to be overlooked entirely — not to vanish dramatically.
As long as the slight man hadn't noticed he was being followed, and Ryan wasn't moving on him the same day, it didn't matter how strange an Extraordinary's abilities were — there was no foothold to work from.
"The perfect assassin should be completely undetectable — until the objective is complete." He reminded himself quietly.
He'd already transmigrated without warning into a strange world with supernatural powers. Without caution and discipline, he wouldn't survive three episodes.
"No rush. Think of it as practicing patience. Patience matters for an assassin. And who knows — maybe they're having dinner after."
When no one appeared for a long stretch, Ryan let go of expectations. He started working on what any good hunter needed most — patience — while exploring ways to keep himself occupied without disrupting his observation or revealing his presence.
And so, as the sun gradually sank, Ryan had mapped out all the viable observation positions in the immediate area, confirmed that Shadow Concealment only concealed items held close to his body, and was counting blades of grass on the ruin's floor when the five-foot-five man finally and reluctantly took his leave.
"Finally. Not going to lie — with no phone, killing time alone like this is genuinely difficult." He exhaled and moved to follow.
The sun had lowered enough that its intensity no longer posed a problem. The slight man stopped doubling back once he was clear of the area and broke into a quick jog.
"Running late for something?" Ryan noted the urgency in his stride.
Whatever his pace, keeping up with a man light as a feather was no effort at all.
After tailing him for about ten minutes, Ryan watched as the man approached an unremarkable building.
"Where the hell have you been, you rat? You trying to starve me?" The man at the door spotted him instantly and launched a pitchfork in his direction before a word of greeting.
"Rat" — apparently a nickname — sidestepped the throw and turned to respond, only to find his thrower already gone.
Grumbling, "Rat" retrieved the pitchfork and took up the same spot by the door, standing guard himself.
"Interesting."
From the shadows, Ryan studied the building and listened. He was fairly sure he'd passed through this area when mapping the district. Everything about it — what he saw and what he heard — had the feel of a small-time gang, the kind that collected protection fees and ran a few operations on the edge of legality, living marginally better than the honest laborers around them.
But a low-level lookout having half an afternoon free to visit a lover — and, from the sound of it, probably having brought her food at the very least — didn't quite fit that picture.
"The fish might be bigger than it looks." He allowed himself a quiet, satisfied nod.
The sun hadn't completely set yet, and the building was clearly separated from those around it — the neighbors gave it a wide berth. Getting inside right now would be tricky.
"Better to wait until after sunset." He committed the location to memory and made his decision.
"Eat first. Make preparations."
Having a concrete target ahead of him lifted something off his chest.
"People really do need something to look forward to. Having a goal right in front of you — there's no better feeling than that." He slipped away, quietly pleased.
Author's Note (this chapter):"Wonder if any supernatural ability can solve this problem."
Anhui There is, brother. Not just a free girlfriend — there's a whole football team available. The potion system caters to all sorts of unusual tastes.(2 likes)
02-10 04:25 · Shandong There is, brother, there really is…