“I’m not an assassin.”
The kind who doesn’t dare show their face openly, instead covering themselves with tattered cloaks, blending in among commoners. Pretending to flee or losing themselves in the crowd, one might suddenly pull out a knife or an awl when passing by Mandalo.

Because of this, Mandalo was treated worse than a child’s doll. At least dolls get held by the hand when swung around.

“Gah!”

Mandalo, caught by the scruff of his neck, let out a choked sound as he was flung to the ground. Standing there was an assassin, arm extended with an awl …