One morning, as the sun rose over a cluster of villas, Mr. N made his way through a nearby wooded lane. He managed a large company, and spent his weekends leisurely here, where the air was refreshing, with only birdsong to disturb the silence.
In the middle of his walk, a young woman stepped out from beneath the shade of a tree. “Good morning!” she called out to him, in a voice as cheery as her clothes and makeup.
Mr. N froze in his tracks. “Who are you again…?” he asked, bewildered. “I’m sorry, but I don’t recognize you.”
“I don’t blame you. This is our first meeting. Now, I have something to ask y—”
“Wait,” he interrupted, “Just who are you?”
“You’ll be quite frightened if I say.”
Mr. N shook his head. “I don’t scare easily.”
“Why, I’m an assassin!” the woman replied brightly, looking as though she couldn’t kill a fly.
Mr. N laughed in disbelief, to which the woman said, “I would not come all this way for a prank.” Her serious expression and tone sent chills down Mr. N’s spine as the color drained from his face.
“S-so he must have sent you,” Mr. N stammered, the words tumbling out one after another. “I can’t believe he would stoop so low… Wait, wait please! Don’t kill me!”
The mysterious woman interrupted his begging. “Please don’t misunderstand. I’m not here to kill you, sir.”
“But you were lying in wait for me! Now you’re telling me you aren’t here to kill me? Isn’t murder your job?!”
“Jumping to conclusions like that only leads to trouble. There are times when we go out to collect orders, and that’s why I’ve come here. So how about it, sir? Do you have any requests?”
Having grasped the situation somewhat, Mr. N breathed a sigh of relief. “Goodness, you certainly had me scared. I don’t have any work for you at the moment, though.”
“There is no need to hide it, sir. Just a moment ago, you suspected that ‘he’ sent me. Were you referring to the president of G Industries?”
“Yes, well, my company is G Industries’s biggest competitor. I thought maybe he decided to resort to extreme measures. Of course, that also means they’re also our biggest competition, and his death would be good for business…”
At this, the woman leaned forward, eyes gleaming.
“Shall I take care of that for you?”
“W-Well, that is a tempting offer…”
“Once I undertake a job, I carry it out flawlessly. That’s my guarantee.”
Mr. N stared at her once again as he turned her words over in his head. Still, he could not see her carrying out such a task, nor did she seem the type to have a group of ruthless underlings at her command. After a brief silence, he gave his reply.
“While I appreciate the offer, I can’t accept it. For one thing, I don’t have any reason to trust you with something like that. Say you fail and get caught, and it goes public that I hired you. I’d be ruined! I don’t want him dead that badly.”
“You’re quite right. But I must tell you, real assassins are not quite like those in books and TV. You may be imagining guns and poisons and car accidents, but I don’t use such common, easily detected methods.
“Then how do you kill…?” Mr. N asked.
“In a way that is sure to draw no suspicion: I make my targets die of illness.”
Mr. N’s face twisted into a wry smile. “I thought you said this wasn’t a joke. That’s impossible. How would you make someone that sick?”
“Then you can think of it as a killing curse, if you’d like,” the woman replied lightly.
“That’s even worse. I have to ask: are you…on something? Maybe you’re the one who needs treatment.”
The woman simply continued as if she didn’t register Mr. N’s mockery. “If that sounds too old-fashioned, then I can rephrase it for you. Through subtle means, I make the target’s life more and more stressful, until their heart gives out. The clinical definition of ‘stress’ is—”
Mr. N. cut her off, saying, “This is all getting too complicated. In short, you’ll cause the president of G Industries to die of natural causes. That much I can understand, but even so, I can’t simply take your word for it…” He crossed his arms.
The woman spoke as though she knew what he truly wanted to say. “You’re worried I’m here to lure you in, get your hopes up, take your money, and disappear with it. Well, I can assure you that won’t happen. I am fine with collecting my payment after the job is done, and I do not require a down payment.”
“Still…”
“I can even tell you,” she pressed on, “that the job will most likely be done within the next three months. Six months at most, if you don’t mind the wait.”
“You certainly are confident. And if I refuse to pay you after that? What then?”
“Oh, but you will pay me, once you’ve seen my skills.”
Mr. N fell silent, deep in thought. Eventually, he nodded and raised both his palms as if surrendering. “All right, if you say so. Go on and try. If you can do it, then I’ll pay up, and if not, it’s no skin off my nose. There’s nothing to tie me to you if you get caught, either.”
“Very well, then. Expect good news soon!”
With that, the woman turned on her heel and walked off briskly. Mr. N watched her leave, still hardly believing what had just happened.
“There are some strange people in this world,” he muttered to himself. “Is something like that even possible? Ah well, least it didn’t cost me a cent.”
He soon forgot all about the encounter until, four months later, a certain bit of news fell on his desk. The president of G Industries had been hospitalized, but even after receiving the best care, had passed away due to heart failure. The police had no cause to investigate, and his funeral had gone ahead without incident.
A few days later, Mr. N was back at his weekend villa, taking his usual morning walk. Once again, the mystery woman stepped out from behind a tree and stood in his path.
This time it was Mr. N who spoke first. “You really are as good as you say! Now G Industries won’t be a problem anymore. I still can’t believe it…!”
“Just as I promised,” the woman replied proudly. “Now, my payment, if you please.”
“Right, I’ll pay up.” If I don’t, thought Mr. N, I’ll be her next target.
Once the money was in her hand, the woman thanked him politely, and was on her way. She made her way back to town, keeping an eye out for anyone who might be tailing her. There would be trouble if anyone had seen her and Mr. N speaking.
Once home, she traded her colorful attire for a plain hairdo, subdued makeup, and her all-white nurse’s uniform. She was highly trusted at the hospital where she worked, so doctors would generally answer all of her questions.
“The patient who just left… How is he doing, sir?”
“Not good, I’m afraid. Five, six months left at best. But whatever you do, don’t tell him, or his family. They don’t need to hear something so shocking.
”“Of course, sir.”
The woman picked up the patient’s medical chart, committing his address to memory. She had no intention of telling the patient or his family, of course. But she would look up his place of business and find someone who would like to hear the news. Someone who held a grudge against the man, perhaps, or a business rival…
