After kidnapping the parents of the kid who got bullied at the toilet, I had a device implanted inside their skulls. Precise. Clean. Invisible.

  The operation was carried out by X-Cut agents, and once it was done, I left them in the X-Cut basement under Rey’s care.

  Control is a beautiful thing.

  The next morning at school, everything looked painfully ordinary. Laughter in the halls. Lockers slamming. People pretending the world isn’t ruled by fear.

  I walked straight toward the guy I saved from those bullies in the toilet.

  He was pathetic.

  Back then, I didn’t even knew his name.

  The guy noticed him approaching. His body tensed slightly before he forced himself to stand upright.

  “Thanks, Arthur… for saving me from those guys.”

  His voice was quiet. Uneasy.

  “I’m really grateful. You even gave up your money for someone like me.”

  The words came out careful, like he wasn’t used to being helped without a cost attached to it.

  Arthur looked at him for a moment.

  “It’s fine.”

  The hallway noise continued around them. Lockers closing. Students passing. Conversations blending into meaningless background sound.

  Then Arthur spoke again.

  “Actually… I want to ask you something.”

  The guy’s expression shifted almost immediately.

  “Sure. What is it?”

  Arthur said,

  “Actually… I need a favor.”

  The guy blinked.

  “A… a favor? Of course. Just tell me.”

  Arthur tilted his head slightly. His tone remained even.

  “First, what’s your name?”

  He hesitated for a second, like he wasn’t used to being asked that without mockery attached to it.

  “My name is Shegio… Shegio Katsuki.”

  Arthur gave a small nod.

  “Alright, Shegio. Now listen carefully. I want you to deal with those bullies. Permanently.”

  Silence.

  The hallway noise suddenly felt distant to him. His fingers twitched at his sides.

  “Um… excuse me?” His voice faltered. “I’m not sure I heard that right.”

  Arthur didn’t blink.

  “I said I want you to kill those bastards.”

  The words were delivered the same way someone would comment on the weather.

  Shegio’s face drained of color.

  “K-Kill them?” His breathing grew shallow.

  “I won’t… I won’t kill anyone. I won’t even break a rule, let alone hurt someone. I—I can’t.”

  His shoulders trembled slightly despite his attempt to stand straight.

  Arthur stepped half a pace closer, not threatening — just precise.

  “You will,” he said quietly. “And you won’t tell anyone. Not your friends. Not a teacher.”

  A short pause followed, deliberate and controlled.

  “Not if you truly love your parents.”

  The words didn’t rise in volume — they didn’t need to.

  Shegio froze.

  His eyes widened, something fragile cracking behind them.

  “…What are you saying?”

  A nervous laugh escaped him, thin and brittle.

  “You’re joking, right?”

  Arthur’s expression didn’t change.

  And that silence answered everything.

  Arthur finally gave a faint smile.

  “Of course I am not,” he said calmly.

  “You will kill those bullies and leave something identifiable behind. Something careless. Like your wallet.”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  His tone never changed.

  “You will leave proof you were there.”

  A small pause.

  “You’ll remove their heads… and bring them to me.”

  The words landed without emotion.

  Shegio’s breath hitched.

  “W-wait… no, I can’t—”

  Arthur didn’t raise his voice.

  “Then say goodbye to the parents who raised you.”

  Arthur’s eyes briefly scanned the corridor.

  Students passed. Lockers slammed. No one close enough to hear.

  “Let’s move,” he said quietly.

  He turned and walked toward the restroom without waiting to see if Shegio followed.

  Arthur reached into his pocket and held up his phone.

  He played an uncensored video.

  Shegio’s parents restrained.

  A clinical room.

  Cold lighting.

  Metal instruments.

  The footage showed their heads secured in place as something was carefully implanted beneath the surface.

  Nothing blurred. Nothing hidden.

  Every second deliberate.

  Shegio stared.

  His face twisted.

  A broken sound escaped his throat before he dropped to his knees.

  He gagged.

  Collapsed forward.

  Vomiting as his body shook violently.

  The hallway noise slowly crept into the restroom, seeping through the walls and killing the silence.

  But for him—

  Everything had already ended.

  Arthur lowered the phone.

  The screen went dark.

  Shegio was still on the floor, shaking.

  Arthur crouched slightly, just enough for his voice to carry without rising.

  Then he set a heavy bag beside him.

  Inside, cold metal rested against steel — a handgun and a machete prepared in advance.

  “Go,” he said evenly. “And don’t come back without what I asked for.”

  His eyes held no anger.

  Only expectation.

  Shegio stared at the bag.

  His fingers trembled before slowly reaching for it.

  He grabbed it.

  Only then did he force himself upright.

  His legs almost gave out again, but fear kept him standing.

  He left the restroom like someone walking toward his own execution.

  —

  Later that night.

  Shegio did what he was told.

  Arthur made sure every second was recorded.

  Every movement.

  Every mistake.

  Every desperate hesitation.

  The camera never wavered.

  When it was over, Arthur stopped the recording.

  “Well done,” he said calmly.

  There was no praise in his voice.

  Only confirmation.

  “Now bring them.”

  —

  The exchange was quiet.

  Efficient.

  Arthur didn’t react.

  He simply collected what he needed and left.

  The next morning, he delivered the heads he collected to X-Cut.

  Rey examined it briefly.

  “Task completed,” Rey said.

  Arthur’s expression didn’t shift.

  “Not yet,” he replied. “There’s still a final step.”

  Another move pending.

  —

  After that, Arthur walked into a police station, moving with the careful guise of nervousness.

  He handed over the video.

  Every second of it.

  Anonymous tip.

  Clean.

  Precise.

  The authorities didn’t hesitate.

  Shegio was arrested before sunset.

  Arthur’s expression remained unchanged.

  Then the police approached him, and he responded quickly, acting with nervousness and fear—even though he felt none.

  The officers stared at Arthur.

  “Did you see where he hid the heads?”

  The question was heavier now.

  Sharper.

  Arthur swallowed.

  His fingers twitched slightly at his sides.

  “I— I don’t know,” he said, forcing a faint tremor into his voice. “No.”

  His eyes shifted just enough to look unsettled.

  Across the room, Shegio was falling apart.

  His hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

  Tears streamed down his face.

  His chest rose and fell in uneven, desperate breaths.

  Arthur slid his hand into his pocket.

  Slow. Measured.

  When he pulled out the small device, Shegio’s eyes widened.

  Fear flooded his face.

  Arthur looked at him.

  Cold. Silent.

  And then—

  He pressed the detonator.

  Nothing happened inside the station.

  No blast.

  No sound.

  Just silence stretching thin.

  For a moment, Shegio looked confused.

  Then somewhere else—

  The explosion went off.

  Shegio felt it.

  Not with his ears.

  With his soul.

  A scream tore out of him, raw and broken.

  “No—! No—! You said—!”

  His legs gave out beneath him.

  He collapsed, sobbing violently.

  Begging.

  Confessing in shattered pieces.

  “They’re dead—! He killed them—! He did it!”

  The officers rushed to restrain him as he thrashed wildly.

  To them, he had simply snapped.

  Shock. Guilt. Madness.

  Arthur kept his breathing uneven, shoulders slightly tense — playing the part perfectly.

  Inside, he was calm.

  This had all been planned.

  He turned and walked out of the station without rushing.

  Outside, a black car was already waiting.

  The engine was running.

  Arthur opened the rear door and got in.

  The door shut quietly behind him.

  The car rolled out into the street.

  Rey was sitting beside him.

  He didn’t look at her.

  “Mission accomplished,” he said.

  Not even a glance.

  Not even a change in tone.

  The car rolled through the gates of X-Cut.

  Arthur stepped out without a word.

  The building loomed over them — cold. Silent. Watching.

  They walked inside.

  Rey stopped.

  “Good. Now get ready. We’re heading to Antarctica tomorrow.”

  Her tone was neutral.

  As if she were announcing a meeting.

  Then—

  Back to the present.

  Inside the same private hospital room.

  Arthur clenched his teeth.

  Frustration tightened his jaw.

  “What the hell… I wasted an entire week drowning in the past,” he muttered under his breath. “Damn it.”

  He exhaled sharply.

  The hospital room felt colder than usual.

  I’m fully healed.

  I gave her four weeks. No update. No nothing.

  Ahh… fuck it.

  Not a single word.

  That silence bothered him more than he wanted to admit.

  Arthur slowed his breathing.

  A cold thought crept into his mind.

  Now that I think about it…

  In Antarctica, they didn’t attack everyone.

  They only targeted the ones wearing X-Cut uniforms.

  Arthur frowned.

  There were others on that battlefield.

  People in blue. People in red.

  They weren’t fighting each other.

  They moved in coordination. Like allies.

  And every single one of them focused on X-Cut.

  Arthur’s jaw tightened.

  That’s not random. That’s not a war.

  That’s selection.

  Something had been arranged.

  Something deliberate.

  Arthur closed his eyes, trying to piece it together.

  Think.

  Don’t be an idiot.

  What could those colors possibly mean?

  Yellow.

  Green.

  White.

  Orange.

  Blue.

  Red.

  There were too many of them.

  His eyes narrowed.

  The ones wearing red and blue stood out.

  Kay were wearing the blue.

  They weren’t chaotic.

  They were powerful. Disciplined. Confident.

  Their movements were sharp. Precise. Practical.

  They carried well-sharpened knives. High-grade firearms.

  Nothing cheap. Nothing rusted.

  Even though Kay was reckless.

  They weren’t just fighters.

  They were strong.

  Not reckless. Not chaotic.

  Strong.

  Those weren’t random people thrown into that battlefield.

  They were chosen.

  And whatever those colors represented… they mattered way more than I could know.

  Organizations? Mercenaries? Groups chasing money?

  That would be the easy explanation.

  But the discipline. The coordination. The way they moved like parts of something bigger.

  That doesn’t feel like greed.

  It feels structured.

  It feels national.

  Nations?

  No. That’s ridiculous.

  Blue—America. White—Japan. Red—China.

  …What the hell am I thinking?

  That kind of implication is insane.

  This can’t be real.

  Arthur paused.

  But what if it was?

  To be countinued