30 Another stranger

"Alejandro Tyler," the anchor on the big screen outside the city square, caught my attention. I decided to pick a decent meal tonight before paying my parents a quick visit.

"He was a young entrepreneur with a big heart," I tuned out the rest of what the lady was saying. My mind flashed back to the look of horror in his eyes before I chopped his head off.

"Tch," I drummed my fingers against my thighs, approaching a pizza house and wanting to get in the queue before anyone else beat me to it. "Big heart, my foot."

I kept my opinion to myself. Speaking ill about someone I just killed was something I tried to avoid. Instead, I apologized briefly to the parents who birthed him and hoped they didn't resent me for what I had done.

"Your son had done far worst unimaginable things," I mumbled, finally reaching the sliding doors.

The smell of the different flavors wafted through my nose. What I loved about the place, though, was not the pizzas but their pasta.

It was the closest taste to match my dead mother's.

On the small TV screen inside the place, photos of Alejandro were displayed. He had been an advocate for anti-bullying and the voice of the youth.

I shook my head.

"Unbelievable."

"Tch, I know," the middle-aged lady at the counter before me spoke. "He was too young, and he died mercilessly in the hands of that assassin."

I feigned surprise.

"An assassin killed him?"

The lady's eyes widened as if she was supposed to keep that part a secret. Leaning toward me, she lowered her voice to a conspiratory whisper.

"You know that assassin whom everyone is talking about? I heard it from a reliable source. It looked like she made her move again."

I was curious about this reliable source of hers. But it was a terrible idea to feed my interest, lest I find something I shouldn't.

So instead, I kept my innocent act and stared at the woman, aghast.

"But why? That man seemed to be a good one. I don't personally know him, but didn't he launch a charity event recently?"

The lady nodded, bobbing her head as she pursed her lips.

"I don't know that young man either. But if he were a victim of that famed assassin, then perhaps the media would soon uncover what he might be hiding."

Clearing her throat as a male server joined her at the counter, the lady smiled at me cheerfully.

"Enough about that. What would you want for tonight's dinner, young lady?"

I had wanted to probe more but seeing how the woman was no longer interested in keeping the conversation going; I smiled back.

"Two slices of Hawaiian, please, and then three orders of your white pasta."

The lady pressed buttons on the machine between us. It followed her fingers with beeping sounds.

She then smiled at me brightly again.

"And for your drinks?"

"A bottled water would do."

"Is that all?"

I bit my lower lip.

"Is your strawberry smoothie available?"

"It is. That's one on the house," the lady gave me a friendly wink. I don't know why she did that, but I'm not going to complain.

"Thank you," I exchanged pleasantries with her before she read out my orders and handed me a card with eleven written in numerical case.

Finding a seat by the exit, I breathed out a sigh.

While everyone believed Alejandro to be a good guy, being targeted by the assassin they both hate and admire meant he was hiding skeletons in his closet.

Sadly, the people would be surprised to hear nothing about his wrong deeds. The people behind him will cover everything and only disclose a small portion of what he was being accused of.

"I should have spelled out his crimes using his blood."

I made a face, wishing I could go back and do that.

But Seven warned me about taking down the men working closely for the Phoenix. Their corruption and illegal activities won't be aired in public.

The message had been sent, though.

That's what mattered.

I stared at the busy street outside.

It was only a matter of time.

Soon, I won't be able to keep my identity hidden.

"Number 11! Order up!"

I perked up and took my order from the lady I had talked to. She handed me my meal, neatly wrapped in a big paper bag.

I bowed my head and smiled, leaving her to do her job.

Sometimes I had that urge to tell people what they should know about the people who died under my hand.

But it was unfortunate that I wasn't allowed to do it.

With one last glance, I went on my way, my mood becoming somber.

–

My parents were buried at the city's cemetery.

Unfortunately, I couldn't even go there.

So instead, Seven made a memorial for them in his residence.

In the backyard, a spacious garden boasted beautiful roses in full bloom. Most of them were red. A few pink ones joined the mix.

Seven had planted a Hawthorn tree where he hung two carved stones with a symbol of the Phoenix in them.

I appreciated his effort and missed the man terribly. I will keep wishing that one of these days, he would wake from the coma and smack me for every mistake I had made.

After he had fallen ill, his place was left in the care of his nephew.

The man was trusted by Seven, but like Wizardo, I could only imagine his appearance.

I never met the guy.

Seven rarely talked about him except when he would discuss the plans if something happened to him.

I had a free pass inside his place.

I heard his nephew was staying in here, but the servants didn't inform me whether he was home or not.

Either way, that was none of my business.

Sitting on the grass, I opened the paper bag containing my dinner. It was not that late, but the stars were already blanketing the skies.

Some of the trees in Seven's garden were illuminated by lanterns I proposed to him on one Christmas eve.

Surprisingly, he agreed to it almost immediately.

It made his garden look magical.

Pulling out the three boxes containing the pasta, I opened each and had the two boxes by the tree.

"It felt so lonely to eat alone, so I thought I'd come here."

The scent of the pasta wafted through my nose. But my appetite was nowhere to be.

"Ah, damn. I didn't realize how bad of an idea this was until now," I took out the fork that came along the meal and tried to eat.

Tears sprung to my eyes, but I persisted anyway.

"Mom's pasta is still the best."

I found myself pitiful, forcing the food down my throat while crying because I missed my parents.

"Damn," I murmured after almost finishing the pasta. "A glass of wine would have been welcome."

"I agree," startled by the voice of a stranger. I turned in the direction where it came from.

Confidently walking towards was a man I don't remember seeing before but whose dark eyes were holding my gaze steady.

He stopped a few feet away. The dim lighting obscured his face. However, I could tell from his broad shoulders apparent against his plain white shirt that he was dangerously attractive.

Extending a hand out to me, the stranger smiled, amplifying his face.

"I'm Ryan, Seven's nephew."