My husband Jace Davies was the king of assassins.
Since his debut, he never failed a mission.
But no one knew that I was the one who carried out all his tasks.
Each time he received a job, he left to tend to his frail first love, handing the mission to me.
To keep him from being hunted by the agency, I had to take his place.
Over five years of marriage, I got injured ninety-nine times for him.
Later, he accepted a nearly suicidal mission, tossed it to me as usual, and went to see his first love.
I asked him, "What if I die this time?"
He thought I was throwing a tantrum and snapped, "That'd be for the best. Saves me from your constant nagging."
I didn't argue, because I was a transmigrator. The system told me that only after getting injured for him a hundred times could I return home.
1
"Yesterday I got a new mission, but Natalia's sick again. I need to check on her. I sent you the details. Make sure you complete it," Jace said, not even glancing at me, focused on adjusting the clothes Natalia Fowler had given him in front of the mirror.
I stared at the new mission on my phone, my expression blank.
My grip on the phone tightened slightly.
I tried one last time to ask Jace, "Do I have to go? Can I skip it? You haven't done a mission yourself in years."
Jace paused, irritation flickering in his eyes.
"What are you overthinking now? I told you, there's nothing between us. I'm just visiting a friend. Why are you making a fuss?
Or do you want to stop taking my missions and let the agency hunt me down? Don't you love me anymore? We've only been married a few years, and you're already tired of me?"
His barrage of questions struck me as almost laughable, leaving me speechless.
Seeing I didn't respond, Jace brushed it off.
"Look, if I really liked her, I wouldn't have married you. I'm already swamped. Don't add to my problems. Instead of arguing with me, go do the mission. It's time-sensitive," he warned impatiently.
Then he carefully shaved, polished his shoes to a shine, and got ready to see his first love.
Coincidentally, every time Jace received a mission, Natalia fell ill.
As the king of assassins, Jace would abandon the job and rush to her side.
But the agency's rules were clear. Any assassin who abandoned a mission faced relentless pursuit.
To protect Jace, I took on his missions.
At first, he felt guilty.
Over time, he grew used to it.
He even started assigning me missions so he could spend time with Natalia.
In five years of marriage, I completed over a thousand missions for Jace, earning him the title of king of assassins.
But I also got injured ninety-nine times, nearly dying several times.
Jace never cared.
I remembered the first time I took a mission for him. It was an afternoon.
Jace, ready to head out, got a call and panicked.
"Natalia's sick. It's serious. She's in the hospital, all alone. I have to go see her. But the mission needs to be done, or..." he trailed off, looking at me without finishing.
I knew what he meant and volunteered, "I'll do it."
After transmigrating to this world, I became an assassin too and was once saved by Jace.
But after marriage, I retired.
I started to say, "But..."
Before I could finish, Jace let out a relieved sigh and rushed out to find Natalia, leaving me with just his fleeting silhouette.
Back then, I still held hope for him.
I thought he was just being a good friend.
That first mission was when I got injured for him and awakened the system that night.
The system said that if I got injured for Jace a hundred times, I could return home.
At first, I found it absurd.
Jace loved me. How could he let me get hurt a hundred times?
But after five years, I realized how wrong I was.
I looked at the mission details on my phone, a notorious top-tier job.
Hundreds of elite assassins had failed it, with almost no chance of survival.
I took a deep breath.
I had been injured for Jace ninety-nine times. One more, and I could go home.