hyj-ayyy

[hyj-ayyy]

5

Back at HQ, leveraging your clearance, you slipped into your handler’s office.

It unfolded with sickening ease – the complaint filed, the evidence reviewed. Your handler vanished into the cells. All your struggle felt like a grim joke.

Seemingly resolved. Back on track. Loyal service resumed.

"Y/N, your dedication hasn't gone unnoticed," the new handler said. "We're promoting you. A reward for your proven loyalty. However..."

His words gripped your heart.

"You should understand, of course, we tolerate no potential threats to the organization?" His eyes, buried in wrinkles, gleamed. "Resolve this... and your reward is secured."

Your heart plummeted, your face impassive.

"Plenty of time then... to visit Beth's family. Or perhaps... assign a detail to watch over them. Closely. Day and night. Understand?"

Your fists clenched. You fought for calm.

"Mission accomplished." Your voice was flat.

"Mission accomplished." Ghost's voice echoed, low and steady as always.

...

You sat in a private club booth, disassembling and reassembling your pistol with cold precision. You smoked, thumb rubbing the filter.

The booth door opened. The familiar figure filled the frame. Less than twelve hours since parting.

"Sit. Have a drink." Your voice sounded strange, even to you.

He sat silently beside you, lifting his mask to his mouth, draining the glass in one swallow.

You saw his jawline clearly this time, the stubble thicker. "Not afraid I poisoned it?"

His dark eyes held yours. "Want an apology for using you?"

A weary smile. You shook your head.Complexity hung thick in the air between you. His fathomless eyes threatened to consume you. Your wavering resolve seemed to find its anchor.

No hesitation. Almost synchronized, you both drew your weapons, aiming at each other's hearts.

"Together?" The proposal was reckless.

He didn't nod, didn't shake his head.

Just held your gaze.Your finger slid slowly onto the trigger. His mirrored yours.

You squeezed. A brilliant smile spread across your face – Beth's smile from your dreams. You understood her now. Perhaps this was a good way to go.

Time dilated. You saw the shift in his masked expression, saw him lunging forward.

BANG! The shots rang out as one.He caught your falling body, already cooling. The firing pin from your pistol clattered to the floor.

Silently, he retrieved it, slotting it back into place.

He closed his eyes, slowly standing.

"Target eliminated." Two more shots into your heart ensured it. He turned and walked away...

（sry about the bad ending😭😭i will try something more positive next time. Ghost just want you to know that he loves you, even you sacrifice yourself by the end, and he couldn't show his feelings for you.)

(plz write comment whether you like this story or not, so i can come back with better works next time.)

[hyj-ayyy]

4（my fav part）

"Wake up." His voice, steady as ever.

Your eyes opened. A bedroom. You instinctively patted your pocket. The drive was there. Relief. You looked at Ghost.

"Take off your shirt." He commanded, medical kit in hand, conspicuously unarmed.

You peeled off the blood-soaked fabric. He sat on the bed and began cleaning your wounds. Your vulnerable neck was exposed, easily crushed, yet his touch was unexpectedly gentle. The expected agony didn't come. You glanced back at him.

"Soft spot?" A wry twist of your lips.

"Investment." His voice muffled from behind you.

"Right. Dead asset can't clear your name." A bitter laugh escaped you.

"Good instincts. Even asleep." He didn't miss your reflexive tension. "Chewed your lip bloody."

You unconsciously licked your cracked lower lip. He seemed amused. "Just a joke."

"Ha..." Your response was hollow.

Your throat burned. You felt cold. Before you could ask for water, you pitched forward into the blankets, unconscious again.

In the haze between sleep and waking, his gaze seemed fixed on your neck.

"A loyal soldier. Worthy of respect." Was it his voice, or the dream?

"No choice..." you mumbled.

"Choices always exist. The price just differs." Ghost's voice echoed in the dreamscape.

Price...

"Stop blaming yourself. Not your fault." Beth waved from sunlight, radiant. "It's good here. Finally... free."

"Beth..."

...

"Water..." The word scraped from your throat. You shielded your eyes from the light.

A glass appeared. You struggled upright, sipping slowly. "Wasted a lot of time," he stated, drawing the curtains.

Too exhausted to retort, you set the glass down, testing your arm.You still hadn't asked the burning question, just as you dared not ask where this was. Fear. Fear of the gun rising. Fear of no one taking the bullet. Though you both knew the truth.

He brought a can of food and an energy bar. You ate mechanically. 'Just die here', the thought surfaced.

"Fucking awful," you rasped, testing your voice.

"Don't like it? Dig a hole and bury yourself." His words overlapped perfectly with Beth's voice in your memory.

An indescribable exhaustion crushed you. You shoveled food into your mouth, your mind a burnt-out machine whirring uselessly. You felt shattered, yet your body kept fueling itself.

"Finish it!" Your own voice screamed inside.

He suddenly snatched the food away, sitting on the bed beside you. The mattress dipped. Your body swayed towards his warmth. You looked up at him. For the first time, something other than coldness or scorn showed on your face: utter confusion.

He looked at you with that penetrating gaze you once despised, the one that seemed to strip away every layer.

He just looked. Said nothing. You needed no words.

Finally, sanity returned. You looked away, uneasy.

"Why didn't you kill me?" You sighed, letting your head rest on his shoulder. Unconsciously craving the contact.

He tensed but didn't pull back. He also didn't answer.

Sensing something, you gave a soft, bitter laugh. You snapped your head up, grabbed his collar, and punched him.

He didn't dodge. The blow landed solidly.

"Cat got your tongue? Didn't seem shy interrogating me!" You swung again.

This time he ducked. Momentum threw you forward. He caught your shoulders instinctively.

In the dimness, only your ragged breathing sounded.

Head bowed, your fingers trembled where they gripped his shirt."The price... what price did you pay?"

"Same as you." He finally spoke, his grip on your shoulders tightening.

You raised your head. Inches separated your faces.

"Fuck you." You sank your teeth into his shoulder.

He shoved you back onto the bed, his rough right hand clamping your throat. "What is wrong with you?"

You gasped, forcing a smile. "Investing? Show me your stake."

He paused. The pressure on your throat lessened.

You surged up, biting fiercely at his lips through the fabric of his mask.

His hands, which had started to push you away, slid around your waist, pulling you closer. He didn't refuse. Instead, he held you tighter, deepening the absurd kiss.

The sound of a belt unbuckling was like a bullet casing hitting the floor. No foreplay. He drove into you brutally. You cried out, biting his shoulder harder until you tasted blood. He answered with punishing thrusts.

You felt stitches tear in your back, raking your nails down his spine in retaliation. His breathing, for the first time, was ragged gasps in your ear.

The act of mutual torment sex ended. Silently, you dressed.

He retrieved weapons from the bathroom. You picked up the dagger from the bedside. Not a word passed between you until you descended the stairs.

He led you to the garage. Two cars. Two diverging paths.

Before getting in, you hesitated. You walked to him, pressed a light kiss against the mask. "Goodbye forever, Simon." You turned and got into your car without looking back.

His hand trembled slightly, touching the kissed spot. He watched your car vanish. "Goodbye forever... Y/N."

You wished it could be forever.

But you already knew. His comms... they were never truly jammed...

[hyj-ayyy]

3

He parked in a derelict lot, still distant from the target building. Gear checked, you wordlessly split up.You infiltrated the building; he found overwatch.

The seamless coordination unnerved you. Even suspecting his motives for helping obtain the intel didn't equal trust. Yet, cornered, you'd rather die by his bullet than beg on your knees.

...

"I don't wanna die in battle. Haven't even had a boyfriend yet," Beth hugged herself, face dreamy. "Dying peacefully in my lover's arms... that'd be nice."

"Childish,"* you'd teased.

...

Disguised as a cleaner, you slipped in. The door to the east-end room opened.

The broker seemed to expect you. A thumb drive lay on the table. As you reached, his hand covered yours. "Bring down Elena. I don't work for free." You gave a solemn nod, took the drive, and left.

The hallway felt unnervingly quiet. You quickened your pace.

Footsteps sounded behind you. Before you could react, two bodies thudded to the floor.

You doubled back. The dagger insignia on their belts confirmed it: Sangre Negra. Ice flooded your veins.

More footsteps approached from around the corner. You smashed a window and slid down the window-washer's rails.

CRACK! A bullet hit the frame above you. You landed solidly. No more shots came from above.

Sirens wailed. More footsteps, shouting Spanish, converged. You ran for the parking lot, seeking cover.

Too many. Even with his covering fire, bullets found you.

Out of ammo, you considered flanking when blinding headlights speared towards you.Ghost expertly slid the car sideways. The passenger door stopped perfectly before you.

Sangre Negra reacted fast. Three black SUVs gave chase. You reloaded, firing at gunmen leaning from windows, the battered Toyota groaning like death.

A brutal swerve nearly threw you out. You clung on. Ghost wrenched the wheel, veering off-road into dense woods, shaking the pursuit.

He stopped. You moved silently deeper into the forest.You walked for what felt like hours.

Blood soaked through your clothes. No sounds of pursuit.

"Rest?" you whispered.

He nodded.

You sank against a tree trunk. He remained standing opposite, rifle ready, scanning.

Agony screamed through you. Sweat and blood mingled. You retched dryly. The question hovered, unasked.

Leaning against the bark, feeling life ebb, knowing death meant failure, you whispered before darkness took you: "Save me. She has to die."

[hyj-ayyy]

2

You escaped amidst the confusion. In the cramped motel room, you both tended wounds. You wordlessly extracted a splinter from your foot.

"Your shoulder's bleeding." Your tone was flat. He said nothing, watching you silently, his hand resting on his pistol, its lone bullet a stark reminder.

The tension was thick, strange. His forearm muscles were taut cords. You suddenly feared he might raise the gun. "Let me patch it?" You raised your hands, showing no threat.

"..."

You opened the medkit. He remained silent, stoic, as if pain were a foreign concept.

"What's your organization's objective?" His voice was hoarse when he finally spoke. This time, silence was yours.

"Who do you serve?" He pressed.

"I serve myself." A meaningless answer.

"Is that so?" He turned his head to look at you. "You coordinate well. I'd have pegged you as the type to let your team cover you to the end."

"I'll always believe in you."* Her voice again, the metallic tang of blood forcing its way into your nostrils. 'She was paste! How could she believe in me?!'

Rage surged. You whipped out your dagger, pressing it hard against his throat. Instead of resisting, he gave a low chuckle, making you press harder.

"Turnabout, then, 'sir'," you hissed near his ear, fury barely contained. "How did you find me? How did you *know*?"

"...You kill cleanly. But living like a ghost... that's distinctive." The words filtered through the mask.

"Ha." You released the blade. A thin line of blood welled on his neck. You finished bandaging him and retreated to the bed.

"You're hurt too." His eyes swept from your bleeding arm to your bare feet.

"Unnecessary," you refused coldly, opening the closet for spare gear. "It's not safe out there... Still planning to haul me in?" You turned your back to change. He watched, unapologetic.

"Not yet. Sangre Negra (Black Blood) won't let you walk." A pause, perhaps a smirk beneath the mask. "You do know you took out their biggest U.S. supplier?"

"Won't let us walk," you corrected. Pointing to your ear: "Your comms are jammed too, aren't they?"

His silence was almost comical. A dark humor surfaced. "Afraid to admit it, 'Lieutenant'?"

"We need intel."

"I don't take your orders, 'sir'." You lit a cigarette, letting smoke veil your face.

"Then I lose a dead weight."

You leaned forward, elbows on knees. "How do you propose we proceed? One bullet isn't even enough for a mercy kill."

He snatched the cigarette from your fingers, turned away, lifted his mask slightly, and took a drag. You glimpsed stubble on his jaw.

"Neutral brokers."

You nodded. "Best option." Information dealers, unaffiliated.

You checked the time. Dawn was breaking. "Move at dusk?"

He offered no objection, handing the cigarette back.

Silence stretched. The cigarette burned your fingers. You stubbed it out. "Why the mask?" Your voice was a rusty hinge.

He stood by the window, one finger parting the curtain. "Why not be a reporter?"

"..."

"You planned this all along?"

"Smarter than I thought," you conceded. Dragging a smart man down wasn't a loss. His arrival was unexpected, but not unwelcome. "Sooner than expected, though."

His gaze swept over you, head to toe, like an X-ray scan, unnerving. His frame made the room feel smaller. Finally: "Your handler's office has no cameras."

Intrigued, you walked over, hooked a finger into the dog tags beneath his collar, forcing him to bend to your eye level.

He held your gaze. Then, a sigh. "Knowing your handler used you as a deniable asset, yet you still want to run back, expose her, and keep working for them? That hungry for a promotion?"

"Why not be a reporter?" You threw his own sarcasm back.

He chuckled darkly. "You have no choice but to trust me. Your judgment... has proven limited."

You released the tag, still eyeing him warily, imagining the contempt beneath the mask. "Seems you really dug into my past. Any other insights to share? Any other humiliations?"

Contrary to your expectation, his voice held stark honesty. "You overestimated your speed. Made an arrogant call on the sentry position. Got your teammate blown apart."

A brief tinnitus screamed in your ears, like the moment you saw Beth's remains. "...Tell me something I don't know." You fought nausea.

"Different plan... casualties were inevitable." Was that... sympathy in his tone? "The intel was bad. Compromised. Someone leaked your op."

His words were an ice pick to your numb heart. "I don't need your comfort," you replied coldly.

You sank back into the chair, unnameable emotions churning. He watched, silent. His words were harsh truth, but accepting them felt like an excuse, an escape. And what right did he have to offer them? Between your roles, trust wasn't a warm blanket; it was a blade hidden in the dark.

Long moments later, you stood and went to the closet. Behind a false panel, a safe. You entered the code. Pulled out a sniper rifle. Handed it to Ghost.

He raised an eyebrow – surprise at the hidden armory, or you arming him? You didn't care. After gearing up, you tossed him car keys. "Parking lot. Toyota Corolla."

Outside, dusk deepened. You sprinted to the car, the rust-stained white Toyota vanishing into city traffic. No words spoken, but the route led unerringly to the shared destination in your minds.

...

[hyj-ayyy]

As a highly trained agent, you always executed missions flawlessly, devoid of personal sentiment. Until...

1

"Priority target. Dossier." Your handler’s brow was furrowed. "No commotion. No traces. We can't afford the fallout." Her eyes assessed you like a weapon. "No support team on this one. You can handle it?"

"Mission accomplished."

"Results by dawn." She pronounced the target’s death sentence.

...

You sat in your office, reviewing the file like a diligent student, yet your mind meticulously plotted the silent elimination of a man.

"You shouldn't be like this..." The voice from countless dreams whispered. "...No choice... none of us had..."

You snapped the folder shut. The metal clasp echoed with a crisp click, silencing the phantom voice.

Opening the cabinet was a dissonant ritual – the motion of a girl delightedly choosing an outfit for a date, but the contents were rows of cold, gleaming steel. You selected the most appropriate weapon, placing it in the case. Your hand hovered, then snatched a formal gown, stuffing it in beside the gun.

...

The rooftop wind carried the grit of the city. Through the scope, the target’s entry point lay waiting. You were stillness personified.

"My shoulders are raw from training today. Hey... doesn't it hurt? You don't even flinch..."

You blinked hard against dry eyes, forcibly interrupting the haunting refrain.

...

Night deepened. The target entered your sightline.Strange. His usual entourage was absent. Instead, a towering figure clad in SAS combat gear stood beside him, a skull-patterned balaclava obscuring his face. His massive shoulders were like a silent tombstone, each movement perfectly shielding the mark.

You waited. No opening presented itself. Inside the club, the chance would vanish entirely.

Without hesitation, you turned and sprinted down the stairs. In the fire escape, you swiftly shed your gear for the gown – a simple, understated white dress.

You melted into the club....Inside, low light swallowed shapes. You moved like a drop of water in wine, scanning the room, instantly pinpointing the target’s position. You waited for proximity.

He sat flanked by women in revealing attire, the monolithic, impassive guardian looming behind him like a bulwark against the world.

The moment came. The target rose, swaying slightly with intoxication, heading for the restroom.

You stood casually, "accidentally" spilling your drink on one woman’s dress. "Oh god! I’m so sorry!" Feigning panic, you fumbled for napkins. Her shrieks and the brief commotion were a stone cast into a pond, rippling attention towards you – including the vigilant gaze of the guardian.

Seizing the distraction, you pressed a tiny capsule onto the restroom door handle.

"Terribly sorry, let me get you fresh drinks?" Your apology was smooth. The woman continued complaining, but the disturbance ebbed.The guardian’s focus finally snapped back to the restroom door.

The target emerged, casually closing it, the capsule’s toxin already seeping into his skin. Oblivious, he returned to his seat.

You ghosted away, heading towards the women's restroom. You felt the guardian’s gaze like a physical weight between your shoulder blades, tracking your exit.

The poison needed time. Inside the restroom, you scrubbed off your makeup. The exhaust window offered escape; you slipped through like a shadow, landing silently just as screams erupted from the club. A heavy thud hit the restroom door. When it burst open, only the open window greeted him.

...

"Target eliminated. 01:16 " Your voice over the comm was devoid of inflection.

"Witnesses?"

"Perimeter doorman. Handled." A pause. "One bodyguard. Unidentified. SAS gear. Skull balaclava."

"Leave no threats." Her fingers tapped the desk; her voice colder than the transmission static.

...

"GHOST. That’s his callsign." I sent the intel to my contact at the Agency. "Need full profile."

"My clearance isn’t high enough. But I can tell you this..." The typing indicator blinked. "He’s investigating YOU."

...

After reporting everything to your handler, you returned to your office. A headache pulsed. Digging into others wasn't your job; you were the blade, not the spy. Enough. Time to go home.

...

Besides killing, your greatest skill was hiding your face, especially beneath layers of makeup. How had he identified you through a mask even your mother wouldn't recognize?

"Maybe I need a mask like that?" The image felt grotesquely surreal.

"You're really pretty... you know? Especially when you smile."

"I know. You've told me." You whispered the response to the empty air. Fatigue coiled around the corners of your eyes.

...

In the dream,"Covering you. Go." Her face, streaked with camo paint, filled your vision again.

Those were her last words. As always, you hadn't replied, until you could reply no more...

You jolted awake. Faint scratching sounds came from the bedroom door.Your hand closed on the dagger beneath your pillow. Soundless, you slid from the bed, pressed against the wall beside the door.

The sound of a lock being picked. No time. You scrambled out the window.A message flashed on your bedside phone: 「Trace Back Detected!」

...

Barefoot, you ran into the adjacent woods, crouching to peer back at the window. Then, cold metal pressed into the small of your back."Y/N," a low voice rasped behind you. "Drop the weapon. We have questions." The gun muzzle ground into your spine.Hands raised, you turned slowly.

Then, in a flash, you hurled the dagger at his one exposed eye. He jerked back. You rolled into thick undergrowth.

Ghost pursued relentlessly, moving like his namesake through the trees. Your knowledge of the terrain offered scant advantage. He pushed you to the edge with speed, strength, and tactical precision; you escaped by a hair's breadth with agility, ferocity, and desperate improvisation.

'CRACK!' A bullet grazed your arm, the impact slamming you to the ground.You crawled for cover in the brush. More gunfire erupted. While you danced with Ghost, the organization behind your last target had encircled you both.

"¡Mátalos a todos!"

Then, the shriek of police sirens. Police entanglement was lethal. The third party wanted you both dead.Chaos reigned. Enemies spat Spanish; police barked English. Cooperation was the only slim hope; he seemed marginally more reasonable than the alternatives. "AMMO STATUS?" you yelled towards Ghost’s position.

"LAST MAG!" Evidently, he agreed.

"Northeast corner. 200 meters. Break through there." You moved low through the brush.He cleared the path efficiently. You both ducked into someone’s backyard.

"PARADISE RD Motel. Room 523." You kept your voice low. Your own safe house. Off the books.

Despite minor wounds, his gaze remained ice-cold. In that shared look, a temporary, silent truce was forged.

He placed the dagger you’d thrown at him back in your hand. You pulled a grenade scavenged from a fallen enemy and hurled it back towards the chaos...

（unfinished yet）