Author: 唇亡齿寒 / Lips Gone, Teeth Cold
Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/
Chapter 90
Joshua will forever remember the scene when the scissors stabbed into Dr. Yulenta’s carotid artery. Blood spurted out like a fountain, splattering the white ceiling, walls, and sheets red. The doctor’s throat quivered, his mouth opening and closing like a stranded fish, so Joshua gave another slash to his throat. This time, the doctor stopped moving completely. Blood foam overflowed from the wound on his throat, like a bottle of overturned dark red sauce.
When the blood stopped spraying everywhere, Joshua dropped the scissors and intended to leave. Something tugged at him, and when he looked down, he realized it was the catheter inserted into his body. He sneered, slowly pulling out the catheter along with the electrodes. Midway through, he misjudged the force and caused himself great pain. But that was okay, Joshua thought, it was a pleasurable pain, granting him freedom.
After pulling out the catheter, he tried stepping on the cold ground. He hadn’t moved for so long that he couldn’t stand up at first. When he finally did, he felt dizzy from anemia for quite a while. Supporting himself against the wall splattered with dirty blood, he slowly walked towards the door. He needed to find his clothes first—he couldn’t run around naked—and then check if his chip was still there. He also had to find the man in black who had hired him to kill. That man was crucial to why he ended up in this situation, and Joshua intended to repay him well.
At the door, Joshua glanced back at the doctor. The body lay twisted on the bed, clothes disheveled, his exposed genitals hanging like a damaged, drooping pipe. The doctor’s pupils were already dilated, and Joshua knew that soon his eyes would become murky. Now, those blood-soaked eyes stared at him motionlessly, silently accusing him of murder. Out of nowhere, Joshua felt a surge of ecstasy, as if his soul was twisted in the dead man’s gaze. He felt supreme joy—the thrill of controlling another’s life, venting his own pain through this violent form of revenge—making him tremble with delight.
Joshua liked the eyes of the dead. When they stared at him, he even experienced a sensation akin to sexual climax.
He didn’t, like those haughty assassins in movies, close the dead man’s eyes and recite a phony eulogy. He would let the dead eyes remain open, witnessing their own demise.
Yulenta’s clinic was larger than he had imagined. It took Joshua quite some effort to find the doctor’s bedroom. Inside, there was a large wardrobe where he found his clothes. The chip was still in the pocket. Besides that, the wardrobe was filled with clothes suitable for boys his size, indicating he wasn’t the first one the doctor had brought to bed.
Joshua used the deceased’s bathroom to wash off the bloodstains before putting on his clothes. Just moving around made that private area ache with pain. He suppressed the urge to vomit and left the clinic through the back door.
The neighborhood where the clinic was located was unfamiliar, probably some distance from where Joshua was familiar. He wandered through the maze-like alleys for quite a while before finding a poorly run store, where he bought some gel food. He hadn’t eaten for so long that his stomach couldn’t digest solid food. There was money in the chip. At least the man in black hadn’t lied about that.
Then he found a secluded corner to sit down and enjoy the hard-earned food. He worried that if the doctor’s body was discovered, the police might trace him. But he doubted if creatures called “police” existed on this planet. In a world filled with thugs, prostitutes, assassins, and pedophile sadists, would anyone truly seek justice?
A shadow fell over him. Joshua looked up to see a man in black standing in front of him, wrapped so tightly he looked like a moving, breathing mass of darkness.
“Kid, long time no see,” the man in black grinned.
Joshua tilted his chin slightly, not surprised by the man’s sudden appearance. “Where’s the rest of the money?”
The man tossed another chip into his hand.
Joshua weighed the chip. “How did you find me?”
“I’ve been keeping an eye on you. Including when Yulenta caught you.”
Joshua stared at him intently. “You knew?”
“Of course. Yulenta’s interests are quite well-known around here.” The man chuckled. “Are you wondering why I didn’t help you?”
Joshua remained silent. The man continued talking to himself, “Isn’t it obvious? If you were played to death by the doctor, the remaining money would be mine.”
Seeing the fury in the boy’s eyes, the man laughed even more triumphantly. “That’s the rule of our world, kid. Being an assassin isn’t easy.”
“You’re an assassin?”
“Used to be. But now I’m retired, working as an assassin broker.” The man pulled out a cigarette, put it in his mouth, but didn’t light it, “You did well, both with Hewitt and Yulenta. Interested in continuing in this line of work?”
“What?”
“Becoming a professional assassin,” the man lit his cigarette with a click of his lighter.
“Is it profitable?”
“Obviously. Profits always come with risks.” With that, the man turned and walked slowly towards the end of the alley. “Ah, my name is Sawyer,” he said without looking back.
Joshua swallowed the last bit of gel food, then stood up and followed the man. “Joshua Planck.” He made up a surname for himself.
“Ah, Planck. I hated him when I was in school.”
“Me too.”
Sawyer, the assassin broker, wasn’t only an excellent teacher but also an outstanding weapon collector. His arsenal ranged from the oldest flintlocks to the most advanced laser guns, from primitive stone daggers to the trendiest high-speed vibrating knives. He taught Joshua the skills and tricks for each weapon, letting him hone his techniques through repeated practice.
Besides that, Joshua didn’t neglect his existing knowledge. Under Sawyer’s arrangement, he interned at a private hospital for a while. When he left, not only had he eliminated his target, but he also obtained an internship certificate. With this, he took the physician license exam on Benjamin that year (it was surprising such a place even had such an exam). Like Old Earth, Benjamin required candidates to be over 16. Joshua lied about his age, though he could hardly remember how old he actually was.
On the day he received his certificate, Sawyer opened a bottle of expensive red wine to celebrate.
“Not bad,” the broker said. “If someone asks why you’re so good at cutting flesh, you have a legitimate reason.”
“Yeah,” Joshua echoed.
They finished the entire bottle. Sawyer was a bit drunk, and Joshua excused himself to get him some sobering medicine. When he returned, he had his favorite gun in hand. Without any explanation, he pointed it at Sawyer’s head and pulled the trigger. When the broker’s lifeless body fell into the pool of blood, his eyes were still wide with disbelief. Joshua bathed for a moment in his lifeless gaze, then found the communication terminal on his body. It contained all of Sawyer’s clients and the assassins he could contact.
Because the broker had helped Joshua a lot, he made a point not to leave the body to rot at home but transported it to the suburbs, dumping it in a ruin. Above the ruins stood a crooked iron plate, looking like a dark tombstone.
“Goodbye, Sawyer. Thank you for everything you did for me. I no longer need you. You can rest here forever.”
Joshua found a small white flower growing next to the broker’s burst head, like the flowers people lay at funerals. This was a perfect grave, he thought.
Then he left the ruins, took the light rail around the city, and went to the spaceport, where he bought a ticket to Olympus.
Joshua often recalled Dr. Yulenta’s question before he died: Can money buy life? The answer was no.
Money couldn’t buy life, but it could take life.
He had killed, his hands stained with blood. He knew that once he embarked on this path, there was no turning back. He walked in darkness, crawling alone in a hell devoid of light. Since no one would bring him justice, he would become his own justice.
The boy Joshua from Old Earth had already died in his memory. The one who survived was Joshua Planck. He had many nicknames: those who admired him called him “The Living Legend of the Galaxy”, others called him “The Dark Blade”, or “The Silver Assassin”. In the most popular version, he was known as “The Mourner”.
He was an assassin.
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