I have forgotten why I wanted to work as a professional killer. Anyway, it's not because of something noble. Maybe I want to buy a sports car. Although I kill pedophiles, I also kill good people, even philanthropists.

On this day, I received a task to kill an insect killer from an insect-killing company.

It's ridiculous. The people on my list have always been businessmen or politicians. No matter how bad they are, they are film and television stars, insect killers? What is this?

Yes, the information says that this is an extermination person, who goes to other people's homes to remove the plague, or eliminate some cockroaches and termites.

This is a very humble man, but the price given by customers is not low, even exceeding some business giants, one million pounds.

Yes, this guy in charge of insect killing is worth a million pounds.

I wanted to contact customers, but the only one who replied was the middleman. The one I hired didn't want to contact me. I asked the middleman if they got the wrong list and why was it an extermination person? But the result was that it was not wrong. It was such a person who had a monthly salary of only enough to live, worth one million pounds.

I have been in this industry for a long time. What a professional killer does not need to be superb skills, but just smart minds and skilled shooting skills. It is not like those performed in those movies. It is also gunfighting and kung fu, and it is not that fancy at all. Sometimes you only need a wire to find a place where no one is strangled to death. The key is to leave no traces.

There is a story circulating in the circle that many killers will receive some inexplicable tasks and a generous reward, but the other party is just a few small people.

I heard that this inexplicable task comes from a mysterious organization. The circle does not know the details of the organization, and even the name is not known. There is only a very absurd guess.

People in the circle call it the Planning Bureau. This organization will plan all human development, but it is just a legend.

The legend is like this. A million years ago, when the first primitive man discovered how to make a fire, this organization existed.

At the first moment when the flames appeared, civilization was born. Primitive people were obsessed with the gifts brought by fire and were afraid of the terrifying power of fire. A group of people had to manage the fire. This was the earliest planning bureau, which continued from a million years ago to the present of the electronic information age.

The Planning Bureau monitors everything in the world and observes everyone. They will correct human abnormal behavior, and everything is for the better and sustainable development of the human race. When monitoring someone's abnormal behavior reaches a certain level and blocks human progress, it will eliminate this person.

Abnormal behaviors were formulated by the Planning Bureau, and they had planned a grand blueprint for human development. They were wise men, prophets, not mortals.

Everything is under their control.

I don't believe this. This story is usually used to intimidate new killers, because this profession is not as exciting as the ones performed in movies. On the contrary, it is a swamp quagmire piled up by stinky corpses and the dark side of the world. If you don't tell some exaggerated stories to those people, they will lose confidence in their careers.

It was at least one million pounds, and I carefully checked the information about this insecticide.

Very detailed...

It is so detailed that this information even includes his toothpaste brand, and even his sexual fetish is clearly written.

I don't understand why an insect killer has to work so much. It's not only text, pictures, but also some video tapes, which are like showing what a person has, unreservedly, before you.

When I thought of the story of the Planning Bureau, I was suddenly a little scared. I actually had the illusion that this story was real.

I couldn't help but feel curiosity in my heart, just like a perverted stalker, and a perverted voyeurism, and began to check the information about this insect killer.

He comes from a place called Children's Home, which is a specialized in hosting orphans left over from the war. It is no longer possible to verify who his biological father and mother are.

Anyway, he was later adopted by a family.

The family originally had a child whose daughter suffered from congenital malformations of cleft lip and palate.

I have been a professional killer for a long time, and my occupational disease made me think about everything badly. I think the reason why this family would adopt him in the children's home was perhaps because they were worried about their daughter's future.

However, three years after adopting him, the girl with cleft lip and palate died mysteriously and was drowned in the swimming pool in her backyard at home.

Seeing this, I felt a little disdainful because my goal escaped that fate and got married to that girl.

The information afterwards was a bit boring, just like everyone's ordinary life journey. In the end, he was admitted to a university, St. Michael's Academy of Art. After graduation, he went to another place and started working in various ways, including cashiers, securities salesmen, and some, later he was an insecticide.

While this insect killer was responsible for the home-to-door insect killing, he was actually a writer. I read several short articles published in magazines, which made my scalp numb.

One of them is called Keti Dinner, which talks about a female fetish patient.

The rough plot is like this: this woman's hometown has buildings used for training for soldiers during the war, and the modern day in peacetime is no longer used. So the building has become a ruin, but there are still many interesting things in the building, such as the walls used for rock climbing, and the strange terrain used to train obstacles to run, so children often play here.

This woman fell in love with this place, which has her childhood memories with many friends.

When she grew up, the woman failed in marriage, had a miscarriage twice, and her life was unfortunate.

In order to find the joy of her childhood, she had to kill all her childhood playmates, and took their bodies back to her hometown, and piled up the bodies into the wall of the building.

She is a fetishist. After piled up the bodies of all her childhood playmates in the wall, she began to have sex with the building, rubbing the corners of the wall, and making herself orgasm.

In the end, the woman was arrested by the police and imprisoned in a mental hospital. She died of AIDS three months later.

This is the general plot of the short article.

I don't know what this article wants to express. It should be about the themes of war, anti-war, etc., but the name of the short article is called Keti Dinner. I can't feel anything, I just feel that the author is a bit perverted.

This further stimulated my determination to kill him. I read more information and found that this person has a very curious hobby. He participated in various mutual aid associations, **cancer mutual aid associations, skin cancer mutual aid associations, lung cancer mutual aid associations, lymphoma mutual aid associations, etc. More than a dozen mutual aid associations, except for work, his schedule is full of these, which makes people feel a little creepy.

This kind of mutual aid is usually where people in the same bad situation gather together, comfort each other, and lick each other's wounds.

But he has no cancer or tumors. I don’t understand why he stayed in that kind of place. I can’t imagine it, nor dare to imagine it.

All I know is that tomorrow is his death.

The next day, I came to the roof with a sniper rifle and aimed at the place he passed by every day. Every day after he got off work, he had to pass through this place to go to cancer and other mutual aid clubs, and today is no exception.

The weather was very good that day and the sun was just right. I looked at him with a sniper lens. As in the information, he sat down in a roadside cafe, ordered a cup of coffee, and read the newspaper.

I was about to shoot, and the next second he would be a dead person.

At this time, the coffee he ordered came up. He put down the newspaper in his hand, opened the sugar box, scooped the sugar and put it into the coffee.

I don't understand what I was feeling at that time, just counting the times he put the sugar.

One spoonful.

Two spoonfuls.

Three spoonfuls.

Four spoons.

Five spoonfuls.

Then he stopped and started drinking coffee.

I put down my sniper rifle and remembered the smell of the coffee I usually drink. I suddenly realized that he was also a "person".

The traveler explained to Irving.

"I could have killed him...I could have..."
Chapter completed!