I lay down on the bed, my thoughts growing heavier and heavier around that note placed on top of the desk. Curiosity had completely taken hold of me.
Who wrote it?
For some reason, I could feel that a certain mystery surrounded that piece of paper.
Should I try to find out who left it? I asked myself.
No, of course not. He said he would contact me when the right time comes. I should trust him. Even though I don't know who he is, from what he did, it's obvious that he's acting with extreme caution. And when danger is involved, caution only becomes more necessary.
If he went as far as placing that note here, then he must have already made a plan. If I act recklessly and ruin it, wouldn't I just be helping the enemy instead?
I'm certain the enemy isn't someone easy to deal with. If that person is acting like this, then it can only mean one of two things: either he's being watched and can't contact us directly… or he simply sees us as nothing more than an obstacle.
Hmm… let's rule out the first option. It doesn't make sense. If he's being watched, then how did he manage to break into the house and leave the note in the first place? That leaves only the second possibility.
Hmmm… fine then. If he wants us to stay away from trouble and stop interfering, that means he knows we're talented, hahaha…
A few shameless thoughts crossed my mind.
Still… if he wants us to stay away for our own safety, then I guess I'll go along with it for now.
After thinking it over for a while, I finally made my decision.
…
At the same time, in another place, inside an abandoned house—
A man known as Boots was speaking with a mysterious figure.
The man wore a hat over his head, a mask covering his mouth, glasses that hid his eyes, and a cloak wrapped around his body. Everything about him was black.
"What should I call you, sir?" Boots asked nervously.
"Call me whatever you want," the mysterious man replied casually. "As you can see, these are all fake names given by the organization to prevent our identities from being exposed. Since you asked, you may call me Black Tiger. As you can see, I think it sounds interesting—being a tiger and all. Hahaha."
"Understood, Sir Black Tiger… please enlighten this lowly member. Is it really the right choice to recruit those two brothers? They're just children. Isn't that going a little too far? What if they get caught… or die because of this?"
Black Tiger looked at him with a sharp gaze, one that carried a deep meaning behind it. Then he let out a sigh.
"It's not wrong to think that way. Sacrificing two children for something like this certainly goes against humanity. However…" He paused. "A person must learn to look at the bigger picture. If one wishes to achieve something meaningful, sacrifices are inevitable. So what if they die?"
He continued in a calm voice.
"If we can eliminate the Spider Organization thanks to their sacrifice, wouldn't that mean they contributed to humanity? As you know, Spider has committed countless filthy and horrifying crimes—murder, rape, human experimentation… and worst of all, they're exceptionally good at erasing every trace they leave behind."
Black Tiger glanced at Boots again, then sighed once more before continuing in a reassuring tone.
"Don't worry. Even if we do recruit them, the time hasn't come yet. What I said was only my personal opinion. From what I can tell, the higher-ups value them for some reason. It doesn't seem like they intend to throw them away… at least not for now."
Boots looked at Black Tiger with hesitation.
"I understand if it's Arthur. That's obvious. He's intelligent, sharp, and knows how to use his mind. He doesn't let emotions control him when he needs to act. But…" He hesitated for a moment before continuing. "Edward is clearly naive. He's smart and can think, yes—but he's easy to influence. He doesn't know how to think logically. Most of the time, his emotions overpower his judgment."
"That's why I left the note there. Even though there was a chance he wouldn't enter his sister's room and might choose another room instead… he still entered it. He found the note. Even if he only glanced at what was written, it still proved my point."
A faint sneer appeared on his face.
"In the end… his emotions really did get the better of him."
Black Tiger's expression darkened with anger.
"That's enough!!!"
Boots immediately stiffened.
"I know you're worried that someone might ruin our plans or betray us, but who cares? Your only job is to obey orders and stop wasting your thoughts on trivial matters. When the time comes, the higher-ups will order you to contact them."
His voice turned colder.
"And remember this—you are no longer some low-level information collector. Don't do anything reckless."
Boots felt a suffocating pressure pressing down on him. He quickly nodded, as if he fully understood what Black Tiger meant.
Not long after, the two of them parted ways.
…
Two nights had passed since then.
Edward had recovered and was finally discharged from the hospital in good condition. The only thing left were a few minor burns covering parts of his body. The nurse had instructed him to apply ice every day, and if anything unusual happened, he was to return immediately for another examination.
When Edward left the hospital, Arthur was by his side.
Arthur had never left the hospital during Edward's stay. He remained there the whole time, simply to make sure his brother was alright.
The two of them had accepted John's invitation to stay at his house after leaving the hospital. When they arrived, each of them carried a few bags filled with clothes.
Despite their house having burned down, it seemed they still had some money left to cover basic necessities.
Yes… all thanks to that idiot Edward.
When the two brothers stood in front of John's home, both of them were stunned by its sheer size.
It looked like a palace straight out of the medieval era.
Edward let out a deep sigh.
"…Even though I've visited his house many times, it never stops amazing me. Of course… a rich guy like him deserves it."
Then a trace of pity rose in Edward's heart.
"John…" he muttered softly.
The moment he said that name, countless memories flooded Edward's mind.
Memories of all the times John had always helped him.
When Edward's mother committed suicide, that was when he first met John.
Back then, Edward had been crying alone in a park.
Then a child approached him.
That child… was John.
"Hey, why are you crying?" John had asked innocently.
Edward looked at him, tears pouring from his eyes, but he said nothing.
John felt helpless, yet he didn't give up. Like any innocent child, he kept trying to cheer him up.
He tried.
And tried.
And tried again.
Until finally, Edward laughed.
The moment he did, John's face lit up with joy.
"Hahaha! There, you're laughing! Don't you feel happier now?"
Edward looked at him with a small smile, then felt embarrassed.
But John immediately said,
"You don't have to be shy. My name is John. What's your name?"
"My name is Edward," Edward replied with a smile.
And from that moment on, the story of two friends began—
A friendship that had lasted six years… and was still standing strong to this day.
Whenever Edward was weak and others bullied him, John was there.
Whenever Edward was poor, John stood by his side.
He even sent money to their home.
Whenever Edward felt lonely, John was there.
He was always there.
Even when their house burned down, John was there.
He even invited them to stay in his home.
At that moment, standing in front of John's house, Edward felt a strange warmth in his chest.
In some ways, the two of them were incredibly similar.
Even though Edward was poor, and his sister had been the one struggling to earn enough for them to survive, while John had grown up rich…
There was still a similarity between them.
John's parents had died in a car accident when he was still young—just one week after Edward's mother committed suicide.
So when the two of them met and shared their stories, each of them came to understand the other's pain.
John, too, had been lonely.
He had never truly interacted much with his parents. They only appeared from time to time, always attending gatherings for the wealthy, always busy trying to secure more business deals.
It was his servant, Wilson, who took care of him.
And even when his parents died… John didn't feel much toward them.
There was only one thing that remained in his heart.
A single question that echoed endlessly in the depths of his soul—
Were those really my parents?
Why do I feel nothing toward them after they died?
Even when they were buried… why did I feel absolutely nothing?
When he thought about it deeply, John felt an even greater loneliness.
The people who were supposed to be closest to him… were, in truth, the furthest away.
He had only ever heard about them through his servant.
Most of his interactions with them had been through phone calls.
There weren't even enough memories for him to hold onto—only a few faint fragments, half-lost in the fog.
After inheriting his parents' wealth, John became rich.
And from then on, everyone who approached him did so because of money.
Even the children around him were no exception.
Although John was naturally a social person… deep down, he was truly lonely.
That was why, when he met Edward, for the first time in his life—
He felt warmth.
He felt familiarity.
He felt… companionship.
And now, back to the present—
Edward and Arthur stood in front of John's house, staring at it as if it were a palace.
They were waiting for someone to open the main gate for them.
At least… that was how it looked from their perspective.
Because to John—
That "palace" was nothing more than a small home.