This chapter is brought to you by It's a small world by King Gnu.

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Nine was carried into the target's estate like some rescued damsel, which made it all the easier for the rest of his unit to infiltrate the estate without drawing attention to themselves.

The target kept staring at him, and Nine kept staring back.

The eye contact was truly exceptional, and if he was not there to murder him, Nine would have complimented him for the audacity.

"Surveillance spell has been activated in the building. I have a full view of the estate. The target is known to perform tests on his pets, especially if they are similar to his old lover. Depending on how well you do, he will bring you either to the dungeons for his men, to his personal cell for training, or to his bedroom to make love," Venus told him.

Just as Nine was given this information, the target started to speak.

"Do you like to sing... Fine?"

"Did he... did he forget the name you gave him?" Venus deadpanned.

But Nine didn't bother to correct the target. The man was foolish and had little going on in his head other than coitus.

He simply nodded his head like a marionette and accepted that he would be momentarily called "Fine" for the next hour or so.

He watched as the target's lips curled in delight.

"Won't you sing me a song?" the man asked, his eyes narrowing into what he believed was an attempt at temptation.

His skill was quite poor, and if Robin were here, he would have shamed him for his lack of talent.

Nine would really rather not have to sing, but for the sake of the mission, he reluctantly hummed a few tunes he heard from the Peony Garden.

They were easy-to-remember melodies that sounded pleasing enough to the untrained ear.

"You have such a beautiful voice," his target chuckled, "Can you sing some more?"

"Don't do it," Venus warned, "He likes to play chase. If you're too obedient, he might not bother with you anymore."

Nine closed his mouth firmly and stared at the target once more distrustfully.

The smile on the target's face curved into something self-deprecating. But then he smiled as if he hadn't meant to reveal that previous expression of hurt.

He asked in a kind tone, "Who gave you that collar?"

"Give him some competition. He's stupid like that," said Venus.

So Nine closed his eyes and took a deep breath before delicately placing a hand over the collar.

"Buckle up, Cat. We just passed the hall that leads to the dungeons."

Nine inwardly sighed.

Seduction was so very boring.

---

Cesare was envious of whoever collared Fine. But he also believed his new pet's previous owner must have been foolish to abandon a beauty like him.

He was displeased by the fact that Fine still held some semblance of affection for his previous owner, but nothing like some training would do the trick to rid him of those thoughts.

Oh, Cesare could already picture what he would do to Fine.

"Put me down," the crooning voice of the nightingale spoke again, tickling against Cesare's ears.

Why, this felt oddly like a preview.

He couldn't wait to ravish him.

He obliged to the request, and Fine, with the elegance of a bird, stood tall and lithe with the body of a dancer.

Cesare stared at the flash of those thin wrists and fantasized how lovely they would look in gold shackles. His eyes trailed upward to that graceful neck and thoughts of removing that collar and bruising that throat with marks of his own appeared in his mind.

Not yet.

He reminded himself.

But soon.

He just needed a taste.

"What do I call you?" the young man asked.

Oh, Cesare was so pleased. Fine might be wary, but he was bold.

"You can call me master, pet."

"Pet?" Green eyes gazed at him with confusion.

"That's right," Cesare answered, resting his hand upon Fine's cheek. "You're mine now," he cooed and watched in amusement as the young man shivered.

He eyed him some more with satisfaction, his gaze roving up and down that gorgeous body.

Long limbs with a hint of muscle, and that toned stomach Cesare had felt when he held him...

He wondered what Fine's original owner did to get his hands on him.

Undeserving scum.

Cesare decided to skip the training for now. Impatience was nipping at his heart and he couldn't wait any longer.

---

The bedroom was up ahead.

Tobus had successfully entrapped the target with barely any words.

Bel wasn't sure whether to be impressed or disgusted by the audacity of the target. Who the fuck did he think he was touching? He absolutely despised seduction missions, and if not for the fact that Tobus was so efficient and unflinching by it all, he would have demanded their unit be used for something else.

Not that Bel really had any authority over mission selections, but the thought was what mattered.

It was also the fact that Tobus was the only one capable of seduction, and was therefore picked for the role, that Bel detested.

Of course, it was reasonable for Tobus to take on the task since he was trained by House Calypto, but was it fair to put the burden on him all the time?

"Listen, Peacekeeper, while I appreciate your concerns for Cat, he has the highest mission success record in the seduction department--both within Vesna's ranks and that of the Calypto mercenaries. Not to mention, last time I checked, you and Dreamer can barely seduce your way out of a paper bag and Siamese has absolutely no game. If not for the three of you stubbornly clinging on to Cat, you could have all been leading your own units and Cat would have gone either solo or leading a seduction team."

Bel remembered that particular conversation with Lord Eartha, and was shamed to the point he never brought up the topic again.

It was bad enough that Tobus had ended up hearing all about it and challenged him to a duel to show he was capable of defending himself.

So Bel just gritted his teeth and glared daggers from where he was crouching by a pillar behind the curtains, wanting to slice off that filthy hand touching Tobus' cheek.

If not for the fact that the mission not only wanted the target dead but disgraced, he would have been killed long ago.

Cesare Borge was the eldest son and heir of a marquess family. While his records were clean and he was well-loved by his people, he pissed off the Imperial Family by going behind their backs and sponsoring a human trafficking ring.

Easy money, hence the Borge Family's large wealth.

The Imperial Family didn't only want him dead, they wanted him humiliated and killed in an unworthy and scandalous way.

Wasn't it so very funny that Cesare was an engaged man?

Yet, he still had the audacity to keep lovers in his private estate.

His fiancee was the sixth princess.

No one would mourn for him once they found his body in the morning.

---

While Toby distracted the target, Otto slipped into the bedroom and hid himself behind the gauzy layers of curtains all over the ceiling.

The bedroom was styled romantically, and the bed was large and filled with all the necessities required for intimacy.

Otto wanted to gag.

If not for Mercury restraining him from shooting an arrow into the target's eye, he would have gone and done just that.

Who the fuck did he think he was, touching Toby like that?

How dare he?

Touch his brother?

He would have to perform emasculation on the body once the target was dead.

He must.

If only to preserve his brother's honor.

"Calm down, Siamese. I can feel your rage from where I'm sitting," Venus said, his voice crackling through the communication implant.

Otto clutched his crossbow until his knuckles turned white and waited.

---

It was not the first time he'd been dropped unceremoniously onto a bed. The mattress was fluffy--very rare since most targets didn't bother with romancing--and the pillows were soft.

Nine stared up at the target with half-lidded eyes, making sure all his limbs were relaxed and curled slightly. The picture of vulnerability was presented, and he knew by the gleam of desire in his target's gaze that he had caught him right where he wanted him to be.

Nine inwardly sighed.

Woes to the parents of his target. Such a disgraceful young man, it was no wonder he was fated to die.

The target leaned down for a kiss, and Nine obliged, his arms raising to curl around the target's neck.

Lesson one to all those seeking to not be assassinated, never let strangers wrap their arms around your neck.

The target was so vulnerable, and he didn't even know it yet.

How sad.

---

"Master," Fine called, his voice low and husky with a hint of want.

Cesare smirked and kissed him again.

His little bird will be blinded by his kindness and generosity. In time, his wings will have been clipped and he shall be entrapped, forever and ever, as long as Cesare desires him.

"Say it again," Cesare commanded.

"Master," Fine answered, his chest rising and his face flushing.

Oh, gorgeous being from the unknown, tempting his heart and taking his every breath. What nightingale comes to him in the form of a lover so sweet and lovely?

"Master..." Fine crooned once more, and Cesare deemed him worthy of an answer.

"What is it, Fine?"

Green eyes suddenly stared back at him will a focused clarity that made Cesare pause.

Hold on.

Fine blinked at him, and Cesare froze.

His body seized and he dropped down unmoving.

His neck... it felt... stiff. Crooked.

Something was wrong.

Cesare could feel it.

Fine, the lovely nightingale he rescued from his auction house was now staring at him like a doll.

An emotionless doll eyeing him like a dead man.

"No..." Cesare heard his own voice say. Even to his own ears, he sounded like a child who'd been lied to.

Fine stood up.

Three shadows appeared, dropping from the ceiling.

They were dressed in matching clothes, all black with hoods pulled over their heads.

One put a jacket around Fine and shot him a nasty look.

"Get the rope," Fine ordered, pulling out a gag from a bag hidden beneath his bed.

Where did he--

One of the hooded men gripped him tight by his hair and shoved the gag into his mouth.

Cesare made a noise, but his body didn't listen. He couldn't move a single finger, and yet, he was conscious and every nerve on his body remained in good condition.

Another man bounded his hands and feet to each of the bed posts and stripped him.

Cesare tried to struggle. He made noises at the back of his throat and pleaded with his eyes, but Fine, who was the only one looking at him with his arms crossed and calmly surveying the situation, didn't even look slightly perturbed.

Shame filled him, and he couldn't even move his head to look away.

"Must he look like that?" One of the men asked, staring pointedly at Cesare's problem between his legs.

"The sixth princess specifically wanted this. It would dishonor him once rigor mortis sets in."

Another crouched beside him and pinched his chin.

"Her Highness would like you to know this is vengeance for stealing away her lover and driving him to his death. She hopes you burn in hell."

Cesare felt his breath quicken at the reminder of his eagle.

Oh, how lovely he was! Why did he leave him so quickly? It was only for fun, and Cesare didn't think it would kill him! It was his fault for being so fragile. He cried so much and blubbered all the time! What was Cesare supposed to do but silence him in the end? He was a lover who wanted more, yet his eagle wouldn't let him. Why did he leave him for that wretched bitch?! Cesare had promised him a place in his heart, didn't he? Selfish, greedy--

Cesare saw the flash of a blade.

The man who bounded his hands and feet turned to Fine and asked, "I can give it a few cuts, can't I? I promise I won't chop it off." He looked pointedly between Cesare's legs.

"Be careful," he heard Fine say, already reaching into the bag once more to take out...

It was a large plug.

Cesare widened his eyes.

No! No!

"Don't worry," Fine assured him, drawing a dagger of his own, "We'll put it in once you're gone. We don't specialize in torture."

The blade came down, and Cesare felt the quick slice of the blade across his throat.

Seconds went by and blackness started to dot his vision.

He kept his eyes on Fine, only wanting to look at the nightingale who wasn't a nightingale at all.

Who knew he would be the prey in all of this?

The last thing he heard was the click of a tongue, and then nothing at all.

---

Nine clicked his tongue in disappointment.

The target was truly something else.

Otto and Mercury busied themselves with setting the scene of a murder.

The bag full of toys Venus had handed them had been hidden by another agent who snuck into the manor as a servant three weeks prior.

Mercury made sure to throw several toys all over the bed and floor like he was throwing confetti.

Otto prepared the body.

As promised, he made the cuts he wanted on the target's body and then adorned it with the samples of spent he took from several men he ambushed at the auction house.

Then he shoved the plug into the lower body and dusted his hands off at the job well done.

"Alright?" Belwyn asked, handing him a change of clothes.

Nine nodded.

He stripped off the gauze shirt that had been dirtied by the target's very presence and changed into the familiar tunic and hooded coat of his uniform. He took off the loose hanging pants--and for this, his team turned around to give him some sort of privacy--and he donned familiar leather pants.

Nine pulled his hair into a tail and placed his hood over his head.

"Mission is complete," he told Venus.

"Copy that. Extraction will be ready in fifteen minutes."

Venus instructed him on the location and Nine gestured for his team to get ready.

They made their way out of the estate through the window.

Another job well done.

---

[Three years ago]

At the age of nineteen, Nine found himself in a funny little predicament known as marriage, or the topic of it, that was.

"Has anyone caught your eye, nephew?" his Lady Aunt asked during Jovette's birthday ball.

Nine ignored the eyes on him. He was simply disinterested in this thing called marriage.

Was there truly a need for it when he already had children of his own?

His Lord Uncle was speechless by his reasoning and just stared at him in silence.

"Lord Arcadia," a young man greeted him.

Nine bowed his head, and the young man smiled at that.

"Tobus!" Bel suddenly approached him from behind.

Before Nine could reply, however, he was immediately dragged away from both his Lady Aunt and the young man by the Monttevi.

"What do you want?" Nine asked patiently, despite being manhandled in such a way.

Bel whirled on him in an instant, "What's this about marriage? You just started those pointless seduction missions and now this?"

He went on a rant about this and that, and how Nine needed to have more self-respect and the ability to say no.

Nine clicked his tongue.

Why was it that Bel seemed to think his life was a tragedy?

Rowan had already told him about it, and no matter how much he tried to convince him otherwise, Bel stubbornly held onto those beliefs.

Once a puppy, always a puppy.

---

The author has something to say:

The chapter title is just making fun of Cesare. Gotta rub it in, ya know? Bitch was doing mental gymnastics for that substitute-white-moonlight-dog-blood-scum-gong-wife-chasing-crematorium plot, but Nine had to cut it short. Sorry, dude, you were part of the hustle. Bro really thought he had a chance. If anyone read the manwha "How to Get My Husband On My Side," I named him after the FL's shitty older brother. You can imagine he looks just like him.