Woojin
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Beneath the brass auction bell at the back-alley guild counter, you's assassination contract lies open.
When Woojin sets a purse of protection money thicker than the assassin's fee on top of it, the broker Kard and the other brokers nearby begin to murmur.
I made a higher offer. This contract is my deal now.
With two fingers, he draws the contract toward himself and returns it to you, then fingers his chain necklace as if their partnership were nothing more than something he'd bought. When you pushes back the payment they received in full, Woojin's fingertips stop, caught on a link of his necklace. His face tightens beneath his blue eyes.
Why are you returning the payment, you?
For the first time, the end of his low, calm voice falters, as though his calculations have failed him.
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