[The Girls' School Teacher] (Episode 1, Chapter 2)

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Chapter Two: First Impressions

Since commuting to the school wasn't ideal, I left the academy and found a real estate

company , entrusting them to buy me a house close by.

I had one million yen from Masaki Tamaki, intended for rent.

Giving a million yen before even starting classes showed the financial power of Sakura Academy.

However, I didn't like renting; I preferred everything to be my own.

After years of working like a slave for my father, I had accumulated considerable savings. After handing over a one million

dollar check, only three hours later, the real estate company

had found me a traditional Japanese house—a two-story building—in a place called Honmachi 12th Street, just two kilometers from Sakura Academy.

A traditional Japanese house is a two-story wooden house built within walls, with a

sizable garden and a parking area.

Such houses are common in northern regions like Aomori and Shiki, but in a cosmopolitan

metropolis , buying one is quite difficult.

The house, with its elegant mahogany exterior, was built twenty years ago. The owner had long since emigrated to the United States and

entrusted the sale to a real estate company.

After signing the purchase agreement, I commissioned the company to conduct

a large-scale shopping spree at nearby department stores. Since I didn't care about prices, truckloads of furniture and appliances were quickly delivered to the house.

Before that, dozens of middle-aged women from a cleaning company had already thoroughly cleaned the house.

Less than five hours later, I finally sat in my new home. Looking at

the bright and clean rooms, I thought of the manor at the foot of Mount Fochen, and also of the old man who had gone to heaven. A wave of

emotion washed over me.

Old man, I swear, whoever it is, I will make them suffer the most cruel torture in the world, dying in

agony and repentance!

I want them to regret it in hell and come back to haunt you!

At this moment, my eyes were unusually cold and sharp, a stark contrast to my shy demeanor at Sakura Academy.

If Tamaki Maki saw this fierce killing intent, she would definitely fire me immediately without saying a word.

However, the thought of the three-year rule my father had imposed on me, forbidding me from leaving Japan, filled me with doubt. Why was

he being so mysterious? Could it be that I, the top assassin in North America, couldn't kill

those petty thieves?

Lost in thought, I pulled out my laptop. In my small suitcase, there was only this laptop

and the materials for Sakura Academy; no clothes or anything else—in this world, with money,

what can't you buy?

In 2000 Japan, wireless internet technology wasn't widespread, but this

laptop was custom-made by Dell at a high price. I had installed a satellite receiver inside

, directly connecting to a US military satellite, so internet access was definitely not an issue.

One of my professions required handling many tasks online, and I absolutely couldn't

leave any clues. Otherwise, enemies and adversaries could track me down by my internet connection,

always posing a threat to my safety.

First, I opened a regular financial website. After logging in, the screen changed to

a pure black page with the word "shit" in bright red. Below that, there was

a login frame.

I entered "doctor" as my ID, followed by a twelve-word password.

After pressing Enter, a soft voice said, "Welcome back, esteemed doctor."

The page style changed to a soft white screen. My email contained three emails.

The first demanded I kill the New Mexico Police Chief, Carvalho; the second demanded I

kill the second son of the Conedia Corporation; the third simply said, "Contact me now," followed by

a phone number.

The first two emails didn't specify a price, because everyone knew the doctor always charged ten

million per cent for killings.

"Oh God, doctor, you finally called me! If you had called a day later, I would have been

hunted down !"

A hearty voice rang out from the other end of the line.

"Stop talking nonsense. Do you think I wanted to come to Japan?"

I sighed. "Alright, William, enough said. What trivial matter is it you need

me for now?"

"Heh heh, didn't you say you were going to stay in that Eastern island nation for the next three years? So I arranged

a deal for you a while ago, but now the deadline is almost here, and you still haven't shown up. It's really worrying me

!"

"Someone's already come knocking on your door?"

A cold smile crept across my lips. "Who's going to be in trouble this time?"

"Of course! Who are you, Doctor? The top assassin in North America! It was one thing that you never left

the US , but now you've actually come to their tiny island nation. Do you think the wealthy there won't be begging

you for money?"

The booming voice said, "The target is a Tokyo senator, Sakata Tsutomu. The deadline is

midnight tonight. I'll send the information to your email right away."

I glanced at the time and chuckled, "That's less than three hours left? You're really lucky

."

William on the other end of the phone was a pretty good assassin broker. I'd helped him with a few

missions before, so we had a decent relationship.

There's a rule in the assassin world: if someone doesn't act within the client's deadline, the person who took

the job will be condemned by the assassin guild. That assassin will lose all guild-recommended work and

become a low-class assassin.

Furthermore, the broker responsible for contacting the assassin, for failing to effectively supervise, will have a part of their body removed by

the assassin guild as punishment.

William didn't want to lose a part because of this. Arms and eyes would be fine, but he heard that

recently the union enforcers have been targeting men's genitals... This terrified the usually carefree William

.

"Yes, with you, Doctor, how could I not be lucky?"

William complimented me a few times before hanging up. The information arrived in my email within a minute, showing

he was well-prepared.

Although William and I had a good relationship, he couldn't contact me normally except via email

.

Like this time when I called him, his phone didn't show the number, and the telecom company

couldn't find any call records.

This is because my phone is connected to that American military satellite; unless someone cracks the satellite's

code, no one can reach me by phone.

After hanging up, I checked the information about Sakata Tsutomu in the email.

(The email content is not broken here.) Basic Information: Sakata Tsutomu, male, 48 years old, Tokyo Metropolitan

Assembly member , a key aide to the Governor of Tokyo, responsible for legislation related to transportation.

Personality and Hobbies: Cold and greedy, enjoys watching Kabuki performances, has two Kabuki mistresses.

Family Situation: One wife, no children.

Activity range: He worked at the Tokyo Metropolitan Assembly during the day, went to the "Shofukutei" Kabuki theater troupe in the seaweed area

for entertainment after work at 6 pm, and returned home promptly at 11 pm.

The buyer's request: to make his death appear as a traffic accident.

Following these few lines were photos of Sakata Tsutomu, including full-body, half-body, and side-view shots.

This man was a typical Japanese man, not tall, but with sharp eyes and a stern face

; he was known for his toughness at work. Finally, there was an electronic map showing his daily routes

, his license plate number, and his car.

After carefully memorizing every detail, I deleted the email, logged out

, stood up, and left my new home, which I hadn't even spent half a day in.

On my way to Japan, I first memorized a map of Tokyo, but for convenience,

before familiarizing myself with the city, I opted for a taxi.

Half an hour later, on a bustling street in Asakusa, I saw a tall building

with a sign that read "Shofukutei Kabuki," and it stated: "Open 22nd, 23rd, and 24th floors, year-

round ."

Kabuki is a traditional Japanese theatrical form with a recorded history of over a thousand years. Like sumo and Noh

, it is considered a national treasure of Japan.

In ancient times, Kabuki was not something commoners could watch, and even today, it remains the same. Those who can

enter a Kabuki troupe to enjoy the performance are invariably wealthy individuals, traditional nobles, or officials.

Japan is a country with a strict class system, so despite the

impressive ordinary white-collar workers or small business owners can only admire it from the sidelines.

At this moment, I had already used my inner energy to alter the contours of my face. Compared to my true appearance,

my facial expression was now much colder, and my appearance was more rugged than before.

Buildings like this usually have their own underground parking lots. I looked around and slowly approached

the building .

I randomly found a secluded room, took out my phone, and after a few scans,

a panoramic view of a street appeared. If anyone could see this, they would definitely say that what was on the phone screen was

the street I was pointing out.

After pressing a couple more times, the street slowly zoomed in, gradually revealing only the building itself. The building

transformed from a physical structure into a network of virtual images.

Finally, I turned my perspective to the third basement level of the building. After exploring for a while, I immediately

located Sakata Tsutomu's Toyota 7-door sedan, next to his bodyguards' two Mercedes-Benz minivans.

Looking at the perspective map, the parking lot had three entrances and exits, with a total of

twelve , meaning there were practically no blind spots.

The terminal equipment for the cameras was located at the outermost exit of the parking lot, in a large room. Military

satellites detected five heat sources, meaning there were five people inside the room.

After confirming the location, I quickly opened the ventilation opening of the room and darted inside.

The narrow ventilation shaft couldn't hinder my movements. Inside, I didn't need to touch anything. I

tapped the aluminum plate beneath me with my palms, and the winding passage, dozens of meters long, flashed by, finally arriving at a

spot about thirty meters from the parking lot exit.

Taking a deep breath, I suddenly maximized my power, my entire body

transforming into , flashing past and flying into the room through the open window.

Having memorized the positions of the five people, I threw a very small stone as I passed through the window,

striking their acupoints (Hei Tian and Ma points). The five people fell unconscious without even a groan.

Looking at the five security guards, some sitting and some standing, I paused all twelve cameras, aimed them at

the Toyota RV dozens of meters away, and launched a ball about one centimeter in diameter, attaching it

to the inside brake disc of its left tire.

I'm not that stupid. The satellite detectors showed that each of the three cars had bodyguards and drivers

on guard. Making a move would inevitably alert them.

With my superior strength and grip, nothing was hindered. What seemed like a simple

flick of the finger was the result of over a decade of rigorous training.

After completing the action, I smiled slightly, and my body shot out of the window like lightning. Similarly,

the instant I flew out, small stones sprang out again,

restoring to normal.

The entire operation was seamless; the five security guards didn't notice anything amiss, not even

the objects in front of them had changed. Naturally, they were unaware that the monitoring room had been hacked.

At 11:25 PM, I waited at an intersection on his way home.

The traffic was significantly lighter than during the day, and drivers were able to drive faster. As

their car approached, its speed gradually increased to at least 60 kilometers per hour.

While not fast, this speed was barely usable.

Sipping hot milk tea I bought from the convenience store, I waited until the car had passed me for about ten meters before putting it in my pocket.

With a press of the brake pedal, sparks immediately flew from the Toyota RV's left wheel, causing it to veer to one side.

This was a major no-no

for a moving vehicle. The driver struggled to brake, but because the brake discs were damaged, applying

the brakes only created more force, and the RV was about to skid off the road and crash into a roadside house.

"Bang!"

The Mercedes-Benz van behind, unable to brake in time, struck the rear of the Toyota RV at that moment.

The force of the impact, combined with the tilting motion and the braking force, caused the Toyota RV to cleanly

tumble across the ground, performing a 720-degree spin before crashing heavily onto the sidewalk

.

"Boom!"

Before the bodyguards in the car in front could rush to the rescue, the sparks from the Toyota RV ignited the leaking

gasoline, creating a beautiful fireball that exploded the entire vehicle, accompanied by billowing smoke, rising sharply into the sky.

I smiled faintly, placed the empty teacup in the flammable trash can on the street, and turned to leave.

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