Miss Assassin is heavily addicted

Chapter 110, Section 26: The Iron Tower
Colorful balloons hung on the tree.

Edward was trying to reach the balloon by standing on tiptoe, but he was only nine years old and less than 1.3 meters tall. His mother stood beside him, looking at the balloon with equal concern.

Because she can't get it either.

This is the largest central square in Gladys City, featuring an iron tower called the "National Broadcasting and Victory Tower." Surrounding it are facilities such as a telegraph office, post office, and newsstands. The tower stands 120 meters tall, and citizens can freely visit the second platform (75 meters above the ground), which has a civilian observation deck. For just a few coins, one can use binoculars to see the city's landmark buildings—a magnificent sight from the industrial era.

It's five o'clock in the afternoon, and orange sunlight filters through the leaves.

"How about we forget about it? Mom will buy you another one."

"No... I want this one!"

The little boy sulked and said that he was throwing a tantrum because the balloon was a gift from his father, and he cherished it dearly. His father is an engineer here and only gets one day off a week.

Today is his day off, and the little boy and his mother are waiting for him to get off work.

The argument between the two was overheard by a blue-haired young man passing by. He was wearing a black trench coat and carrying a suitcase. He looked up and saw the balloon hanging on the tree. It wasn't very high, but it was difficult for the boy and a woman who wasn't good at sports to reach it.

Lawrence thought for a moment, then stepped forward to help take it down.

Soon, the leaping figure landed smoothly.

“Here you go,” Lawrence said.

"Wow...that's amazing."

The little boy stared in disbelief as he grabbed the balloon, looking at the strange man in front of him. The man's movements had been quite impressive.

The mother also bowed in gratitude unexpectedly, but Lawrence simply lowered his hat brim and continued forward without exchanging many words.

He walked into the Eiffel Tower.

There are many people passing by.

The tower is divided into three levels: the base, the observation deck of the second platform, and the signal transmission level. You can go up by stairs or the creaking iron elevator, but only the staff elevator can go directly to the third platform.

Lawrence took out a black metal card from his pocket and swiped it in front of the employee elevator.

Soon the green light turned on with a 'beep' and the elevator doors opened.

Lawrence stepped into the elevator.

The gears began to turn, and the steel cable carrying the elevator car contracted, causing it to rise slowly.

The last rays of the setting sun suddenly pierced my eyes.

Lawrence squinted as he stood in the ascending elevator car. In front of him was a clear floor-to-ceiling window. The city's buildings no longer blocked the setting sun. As the elevator gradually rose, he saw the magnificent sunset.

The crowd below seemed to shrink, even the buildings appeared smaller, and the streets became denser, like the horizontal lines in a tic-tac-toe game.

"Ding."

After an unknown amount of time, the elevator stopped.

With a heavy starting sound, Lawrence stepped out of the elevator and arrived at the third platform, which was 95 meters above the ground. However, this was not the maximum height of the tower; the rest required climbing the stairs to reach the top.

The traces of industry are particularly evident here.

The ground beneath my feet was uneven, rutted irrigation mud, unlike the decorated second platform. The exposed iron support pillars were marked with serial numbers, making it look like an unfinished house.

There should be staff here, but there was only a faint smell of blood in the air, and no one was in sight.

Lawrence calmly walked up the zigzag openwork staircase.

Finally, he reached the top of the tower.

In that instant, a gale howled in my ears, my trench coat fluttered in the wind, and all I could see were the clouds and sky tinged with the reddish-brown hues of the afternoon sun.

This is the viewpoint from which the world is viewed.

Lawrence saw Mark leaning against the railing, a cigarette lit in his hand. There was an unusual look of bewilderment in the eyes of this greasy man. The bitter taste of nicotine was blown away by the wind, leaving only the direction of the wind traced by the wisps of white smoke.

Southwest wind.

Lawrence walked over to him and silently assembled the sniper rifle and adjusted the scope.

Mark snapped out of his daze and, looking at the still-honest and unassuming Lawrence, teased, "You're the last one to arrive."

“I need to get my weapons,” Lawrence said.

"Okay, okay, I know you have your reasons. Anyway, it doesn't matter if you're the last one to arrive, just don't miss when you pull the trigger... cough cough... it's really windy here."

Mark's exhaled smoke was blown back, brushing against his cheek and making him cough. He covered his mouth and waved his hand in front of his nose, then, with a headache, simply threw the cigarette butt on the ground.

The top of the tower is a perforated steel beam floor, so the cigarette butt landed directly on the third platform—where Monica silently looked up and saw the body of a staff member at her feet.

"Sorry," Mark said sheepishly, raising his hand.

Monica didn't say anything, she just dragged the body away.

Then Mark simply turned around, took out his binoculars, and stood next to Lawrence as if he were his observer, watching the city.

"Whoosh~ There's so much to see here, I can even see my bookstore, hehe."

Lawrence assembled the scope and whispered:
"What time is the operation scheduled?"

"Uh... it's hard to say. Let's see the signal from Old Duncan's side. Anyway, our mission is just to intercept. This place is great. Just stand here and fire a sniper shot. That's enough to scare those drivers so much that they won't dare to move."

Mark slowly said, holding up his binoculars and looking at the street corner, observing all the necessary routes. They already knew the entire itinerary from the visiting ambassadors of Country B.

Yesterday was the welcoming ceremony, today there will be a formal dinner with the Prime Minister in attendance, and tomorrow is the King's birthday banquet on June 1st, during which he will be paraded through the streets as part of the celebration.

But that's not important.

Today's meal is the important one.

They have already made preparations at several important locations, including the National Theatre and state banquet restaurants, which they had scouted beforehand.

"So, what are you planning to eat after today's mission is over?"

Mark held up the binoculars casually, while the middle-aged man hummed animatedly, as if he were spying on a women's bathhouse through the binoculars.

After listening, Lawrence bluntly said, "Look through the scope and try to get a feel for it."

"I'll eat anything if I survive."

Mark was embarrassed and slowly lowered his binoculars to look at him, muttering, "Hey, can't you say something nicer? This sounds like you're ready to sacrifice yourself."

"Hmm," Lawrence simply replied.

"..." This made things even more awkward.

Mark was silent for a while, then scratched his head: "Dude, don't think of it that badly."

There is no way out now that we're standing here.

“Uh…” Mark explained dryly, “Although there is indeed no way out when we’re standing on this tower, after all, if people come down and surround us, we’ll be dead. It’s so high up here, the only way down is by stairs and elevator. You’re right, but… okay, I admit it’s troublesome, maybe we can’t hope for the best?”

"Hmm," Lawrence simply replied. Mark was annoyed.

There was an unsettling silence between them.

A moment later, Mark, with a melancholic air, bit the end of his cigarette and mumbled indistinctly:
Have you thought about your last words?

"?" Lawrence paused for a moment, then said, "No."

"Did you not think about it or not?" Mark asked.

“…It makes no difference,” Lawrence said.

Mark smiled bitterly after hearing this, gazing at the breathtaking view from the high vantage point before him, and muttered to himself:

“I shouldn’t have been talking to you. Hey, let Monica come up here. She can be your observer.”

Lawrence sensed Mark's departure; his footsteps clattered crisply on the steel beams of the floor, even the sound of him descending the stairs was loud.

It could be one minute, or it could be two minutes.

The smell of cigarettes wafted over again.

Lawrence stretched out his hand slightly, feeling the wind direction and speed outside, his eyes calm.

……

—Iron Tower. Third Platform—

Mark has already descended from the top of the Eiffel Tower.

The wind was a bit strong up there, messing up his hair and cigarette, so he held the cigarette between his fingers and shakily relit it with a match. Then, as the smoke curled up, he leaned against the rusty support pillar, his eyes glazed over, muttering to himself as he thought about many things.

Soon, the ashes fell silently to the ground.

Mark's conversation with Lawrence brought back memories of the past. All the ups and downs they had gone through over the years flashed through his mind like a movie, so joyful and wonderful. But this time it was really bad. As the captain, he knew a lot of things, such as the suicidal plan.

Although for those high-ranking officials in Country B, everyone is just a tool, it would be best to use a suicidal plan to obtain the greatest benefit.

But as expected, people tend to relax after resting for too long, and once they've experienced a peaceful life, they want to stay in that moment forever. Mark didn't want his squad to die like that, as tools, as people who would never be mentioned in history.

Why do we all live such heavy lives when we are all living, breathing human beings?
For world peace?

Mark didn't know if what they were doing was truly the right thing to do; but he did know that one of his decisions could cost the lives of three of his men.

After much deliberation, Mark finally made up his mind, his fingers trembling. He burned his fingers with cigarette ash, feeling dejected and flustered. Then, he came to his senses and his eyes turned bitter. He thought to himself, "Isn't this what I was thinking from the beginning?"

Not intending to convince anyone is just my own decision, after all, I can't guarantee that others share the same thoughts as me, such decadent and cowardly ideas.

If it were Lawrence, he would never have minded dying on a mission, and he wouldn't mind now.

But Mark didn't want to see anyone die.

He turned around sadly, preparing to leave via the staff elevator, but at that moment, he saw the black-haired girl squatting there with her back against the wall.

She seemed to be in a daze.

Yugiri's eyes were clear yet bewildered. Leaning against the wall, she seemed lost in thought. In front of her were the afterglow of the setting sun and the distorted shadows. Several corpses lay scattered on the ground. It seemed she had already cleaned up all the staff on this floor, while she hid in the shadows where the sunlight couldn't reach her, like a little monster who didn't want to appear in front of others.

The blood flowed coldly onto the ground.

Seeing this, Mark simply walked over silently.

This is a member of his team, and also Lawrence's good helper in this operation, who is responsible for guarding the platform and protecting the top of the tower. With her around, most dangers are not considered dangers.

But there really is no way out here, is there?
Originally, she was responsible for coordinating with Duncan's operation, but her old friend said he would leave it to her, since everyone was in danger and there was no need for her to come. So, it was a rare collective operation for the entire spy team.

"Mark, where are you going?"

Yugiri seemed to notice the greasy middle-aged man in front of her sneaking away. She slowly looked up and stopped him in his tracks with a puzzled voice. Even she didn't quite understand this abrupt behavior.

Mark stopped in his tracks.

Actually, dealing with this ignorant girl wasn't difficult. Mark knew she was easy to fool, so he simply walked up to her and explained in a mocking tone:
"Hey, I'll go down and sabotage this elevator. That way, even if those people want to come up, it'll delay them for a while... or maybe they won't be able to come up at all. Haha, I'll leave this road to you for now."

"……I see."

After a moment, Yugiri simply nodded.

She readily believed Mark's words. The staff elevator doors had already opened, and she stood silently to the side as if seeing him off. The girl's red eyes looked at him, then at the ground, and finally at the dried bloodstains on the dagger. Her eyes flickered but she remained silent.

Mark suddenly felt a pang of sympathy for her, so he reached out and touched the girl who seemed to know nothing and care about nothing—as an elder who had watched her grow up, he knew very well how much hardship this little girl had endured along the way.

Even so, she might be the most indifferent person to life and death here.

"Sophia, are you afraid of death?"

Yugiri was silent for a moment: "I don't know, will it be very dark?"

"What a childish answer... I don't know if it's dark or not, after all, we'll only know after we die, but how can we talk after we're dead?"

Mark seemed to have gotten himself into a daze, scratching his head like a helpless elder who, despite having raised the question himself, was unable to solve the profound problem, and finally gave a wry smile, at a loss for what to do.

Yugiri simply looked at him without saying a word.

She is actually a very patient listener, very suitable for pouring out one's troubles, because most of the time she will just listen, and when she needs to express her opinion, her attitude will not make people feel that she is presumptuous, just like she was just now.

But Mark knew there was nothing more to talk about, and he needed to hurry, because every second was slipping away.

“I’ll go down now. Remember to guard this road well and don’t let anyone go up,” Mark said.

Yugiri nodded, as if receiving a mission, and said:

"I understand."

A moment later, the elevator doors closed.

As the sound of the elevator car carried by the steel cable grew more and more distant, Yugiri walked back to her original spot and slowly squatted down. She liked this corner very much because she could see the sunset outside without it hurting her eyes.

……

at the same time.

In the twilight of five o'clock in the afternoon, as the sun gradually sets in the west.

Below the National Broadcasting Station and the Tower of Victory, the little boy Edward, who was holding a balloon, was crying again because he had let go of it once more, and this time the balloon flew into the sky and could not be retrieved.

He could only sadly look up at the sky.

The balloon is getting smaller and smaller.

But gradually, perhaps due to the child's innate keen observation, Edward saw what looked like a dark shadow on the top of the tower. He felt it was a person, so he tugged at his mother's clothes and said...

"Mom, it looks like someone is going to jump off a building."

(End of this chapter)