cinnamon roll

Cinnamon roll is some kind of code. The man uses it to get a name every Thursday. The client Nick introduced to him at that time wanted someone to get rid of the person he wanted, whoever it was. It doesn't matter his family background, job or how high his position is. NYX provided that request and here it is, doing what their clients want like an obedient dog. He will get rid of whoever is written on the paper Smith gave behind the Cinnamon roll order.

The paper he received was still one and he had been in trouble since his first victim.

The man waited for Smith's arrival. He hid in a narrow alley near Smith's house without anyone knowing. Smith was a farmer who worked for a rice field boss. He had long known about the old man's work and he knew that Smith always came home at sunset.

The person he was looking for appeared from the end of the alley. As Smith walked through the alley, the man grabbed Smith's collar and then immediately pulled him inside as roughly as if he were lifting a rabbit.

"You owe me an explanation," said the man straight to the point. He didn't want to beat around the bush, it just took time until someone passed through this small alley.

"W-what do you mean sir?" said Smith, stuttering in confusion.

The man slammed Smith's body against the wall like throwing a sack of rice. Smith groaned in pain and writhed to feel his bones. The man stepped closer to Smith and grabbed him by the collar, forcing him to get up.

"Something happened without my permission, and I want you to explain what happened."

"I don't understand what you mean."

The man clenched his jaw and then strangled Smith's neck with one hand. Suddenly Smith grabbed the hand that was squeezing his neck. The man tightened his fingers to press the old man's veins. Smith was increasingly tormented and in pain.

"You know what I mean, Smith. Why was the body of the person on the paper found by the police on a big road?"

"Isn't that what you're doing?" Smith replied in a barely audible hoarse voice. The man was dissatisfied with Smith's answer and confirmed it with more force. Smith was even more unable to speak because of it. His eyes rolled upwards with his face red, he couldn't breathe.

The man let go of his hand so that Smith fell back to the ground. The old man coughed while holding his neck. He inhaled greedily and coughed harder for the umpteenth time. He had to get away, Smith crawled with all his might to get away from the man.

"You used to be my teacher, who used to beat me and taught me self-defense. Now look at you," he said, commenting on how weak the old man was and then he continued, "You've known me since I was a little kid so I'm sure you know more than anyone that I never finished my work in a flashy way like that. What did you do?" asked the man as he returned step by step to where Smith was.

Smith immediately got up and held on to the wall before the man finished him more than this. He held his neck which felt numb and immediately got ready as the man seemed to be preparing to launch an attack on him. "Please, I didn't do anything. I was just entrusted with a message by Mr. Aiden. I am just the messenger." said Smith while making a stance.

The man maintained his calm expression, he stared at Smith like trash worth spitting on. "Then explain to me, why did you pack your things after you were there that night?" he said as he threw a punch and fortunately the attack was parried by Smith.

However, Smith failed to avoid the second punch and a kick after that, causing him to curl up on the ground, hugging his stomach. Smith used to be very good at martial arts but he was defeated by time. His body wasn't as strong as it used to be, especially since he had come home from working all day and was faced with a man twice his body weight who was known for his calm demeanor but deadly.

"I had nothing to do with what happened that night." Smith said, trying to defend himself. Hoping for the man's merciness.

"Okay, let's just say it's true. So you're saying that it was someone else who messed up my work." The man quickly came to another conclusion after being fed up with the same confession from Smith's mouth. "That night someone dragged the body to the busy street. If you work as an owl, then tell Mr. Aiden not to interfere in my business." The man continued before he stepped out of the narrow alley.

"I-I can't do that, it doesn't work like that, sir." Smith muttered as he leaned against the wall.

The man grabbed Smith's collar again, "Then what can you do, huh? Find a way and do your job properly."

"I only received messages, that's all. I don't have the authority to send messages back, sir. Do you think I still have influence in your organization or any mafia group?"

The man's patience was at its breaking point. "Keep saying that until I make your face battered old man." he said angrily.

"If you want to hit me, don't hit me in the face, my daughters will soon find out." Smith interjected imploringly.

The man immediately let go of Smith as if he had touched hot iron. He always had a soft spot for that old man, for some reason he doesn't even know. The man stood up and complained about his lack of courage to Smith then paced around to calm his anger. He put his hands on his hips and looked at Smith who was still sitting on the ground.

The sound of footsteps interrupted the tension between Smith and the man. They turned to the other side of the small alley and found a man approaching arrogantly. "Well, well.. what is happening here?"