"A VIP protection job, out of nowhere..."

Black agent K frowned at the orders that had come down.

The first order since the change of government.

Unlike the white agents out in the open, a black agent was known to no one but the deputy directors and section chiefs.

K had gone to school on NIS money.

Every quietly delivered order K handled came with a bonus.

Big money, the kind ordinary people never got their hands on.

The problem was that your life wasn't guaranteed.

Secret special-forces training.

Desert survival training in Australia, jungle survival in Africa.

Still young, though.

Agent K had skipped the regular training track and was only twenty-six—green as could be.

"It's the last order, so... fine, I'll let it slide."

The long seven-year contract was almost over.

Since the change of government, K didn't want to do this work anymore.

If a foreign intelligence service found out about a black agent, the agent could be shot dead with no recourse.

A black agent who died didn't even get a star on the memorial plaque in the NIS lobby.

K had zero faith in the higher-ups under this administration.

Knowing you wouldn't be protected led to mistakes, and a mistake meant ruin.

Black agent or not, you only had one life.

K, who'd grown up in an orphanage, had a dream.

To serve the world's unlucky children, who were just like K.

With a sharp mind and the ability to speak five languages, K wanted out of the cage.

And now K's hand closed around the slip with the final order: protect a VIP.

Click.

K flicked a lighter.

The VIP's details, burned away clean.

An order handed down personally by the First Deputy Director, K's new boss.

"Protection for some kid? Short life, but a hard one. And the people after him... aren't pushovers..."

According to the NIS intel, they were hitmen China had raised, no question.

Probably the military's killing machines that informants had only whispered about.

Thanks to some special martial art they'd trained in, they'd recently been upgraded to S-class danger.