- Caelum POV -
Caelum stood inside the rented room and began placing his prepared tools across the small table.
Caelum was a ticulous and orderly man, almost a perfectionist, because his work required the precision of a surgeon.
That was the plain truth of it. A careless assassin could kill once. A careless spy could survive once. Caelum's work demanded more than survival. It demanded repetition, patience, and the ability to leave a place with fewer traces than the dust already gathered there.
One by one, he summoned the objects he intended to use.
The first were three small glass bottles, each vial no longer than two fingers. The liquid inside them did not share color, scent, or purpose. One held poison capable of killing instantly. A single drop was enough. The curious part was that almost two years ago, one of those vials had disappeared. Caelum had never forgotten that. He did not forget losses, especially losses asured in drops.
The second vial held a stronger chemical, his preferred tool by far. A person only needed to breathe it in a few tis before sleep took them. No scream nor struggle. Compared to poison, it was elegant, practical, and far easier to explain away afterward. The third was a simpler potion, though simple did not an weak. It diminished presence until a person beca close to absent, as if the world had misplaced them inside its own space. Not invisible in the literal sense. Nothing so crude. It simply encouraged attention to slide elsewhere, turning the user into a shadow people failed to question.
After the vials ca his daggers.
Caelum placed both on the table with care. The blades were already washed, sharpened, and ready after what had happened on the train. They gave no hint of the work done with them. Good weapons did not brag. They waited.
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