Elias Hibiki. At first glance, he looked less like a college student and more like someone who had crawled out of a grave.

His skin was unnaturally pale, almost porcelain-white, making every dark circle beneath his eyes stand out even more. Those permanent eye bags made him look like he hadn't slept in months. His messy silver hair was always a disaster, sticking out in every direction as if even his hair had given up on life. His expression rarely changed, and when he walked through campus with his slightly slouched posture, people often whispered that he looked like a ghost wandering among the living.

Some freshmen had even screamed after accidentally bumping into him late at night.

"...Sorry", That was usually all Elias said before quietly walking away. Despite looking half-dead twenty-four hours a day, Elias wasn't sick.

He was simply exhausted.

The prestigious university he attended was considered one of the most elite colleges in the country—a place where politicians' children, business heirs, celebrities, and billionaires studied. Tuition alone could bankrupt an average family.

Elias was the only exception. He had entered through a full academic scholarship after earning near-perfect scores nationwide. Professors adored him because his grades were flawless, his reports impeccable, and he never missed a deadline.

Unfortunately, every professor seemed to think he had unlimited free time.

Group projects.

Research papers.

Laboratory reports.

Presentations.

Part-time work.

Taking care of his younger brother.

The circle repeats. Again. Day by day...

His schedule was so packed that sleeping for four hours was considered a luxury. Adding to his troubles, Elias suffered from severe social anxiety.

He hated conversations.

His voice became quieter whenever someone looked directly at him. His hands trembled during presentations. He always ate lunch alone, sat in the corner of every classroom, and disappeared the moment lectures ended.

Most students simply labeled him as "that creepy scholarship guy."

He didn't mind.

Friends required energy. Energy was something he couldn't afford.

But, that pitiful appearance was the world's greatest disguise. The tired, awkward college nerd everyone ignored...was actually one of the country's most feared professional assassins.

Whenever a mission arrived, the exhausted student vanished completely.

His posture straightened.

His dull eyes became sharp enough to send chills down anyone's spine.

His hesitant movements transformed into graceful precision.

Every bullet landed exactly where it should.

Every knife found its target.

Every mission ended without witnesses.

Within the underworld, he was known as an assassin who had never failed a contract.

No fingerprints. No evidence. No mistakes.

His identity remained one of the greatest mysteries among criminal organizations. No one would ever suspect that the ghost-like university student who apologized every few minutes was capable of ending someone's life without leaving a trace.

Money.

That was the only reason Elias continued killing.

Not because he enjoyed violence.

Not because he believed in justice.

Not because he sought revenge.

He simply needed money.

Scholarships covered his education, but they couldn't pay rent.They couldn't buy groceries. They couldn't pay hospital bills and they certainly couldn't support the younger brother he loved more than anything in the world. Although his adopted father—a kind but overworked single man did everything he could for the family, Elias refused to let him shoulder every burden alone.

If sacrificing his own hands to bloodshed meant his little brother and his father could smile without worrying about tomorrow...

Then so be it.

Every contract he accepted was another month of safety for his family.

That alone was enough.

The assassination organization that Elias worked for had one of the most brilliant covers imaginable. To the public, it was an incredibly popular maid café called Maison Noire. The café was famous across the city for its elegant atmosphere, luxurious desserts, and beautiful maids who treated every customer like royalty.

Reservations were booked months in advance.

Tourists traveled from overseas just to visit.

Social media was flooded with photos from the café every day.

Nobody questioned its success.

Nobody imagined that beneath the sweet scent of pastries and freshly brewed coffee lay one of the largest illegal assassination syndicates in the country.

Hidden beneath the café was an underground headquarters where contracts were accepted, targets were investigated, and elite assassins prepared for their next mission.

Every maid,

Every butler,

Every smiling server,

Could kill someone before a customer even finished their parfait.

Inside the café, Elias transformed into someone else entirely. His codename was Dolly.

The contrast was almost unbelievable.

Gone was the lifeless college nerd. Instead, stood a breathtaking maid with silky platinum-blonde hair, delicate makeup, long curled lashes, elegant posture, and a charming smile capable of making customers forget how to breathe.

His voice became softer. His movements graceful. His smile dazzling.

Many customers claimed Dolly was the café's most beautiful maid. Some insisted Dolly wasn't human at all, but an angel. Others came every single day just to be served by their favorite maid.

Online fan pages dedicated to Dolly had tens of thousands of followers.

Fan art.

Merchandise.

Cosplays.

Marriage proposals.

Love letters.

Expensive gifts.

Dolly had become the café's biggest celebrity.

None of them realized the beautiful maid they adored was actually a sleep-deprived male college student who looked like a zombie outside of work. Of course, not every customer came for tea and cakes.

Those seeking an assassin followed a silent ritual. Instead of ordering through words, they quietly placed a black VIP card onto the table.

That single card meant only one thing.

A contract request.

No questions were asked. No names were spoken.

The card would mysteriously disappear before dessert arrived. Within hours, the organization would begin investigating the target.

If the contract was accepted, someone would die.

As for Elias, he never received missions directly. Instead, the café manager had a secret system. Whenever a special dessert was personally delivered to Dolly, it meant there was an assassination request waiting downstairs.

If the manager served him a cup of black coffee instead...it meant an emergency mission requiring immediate deployment.

To ordinary customers, it looked like nothing more than excellent customer service.To the assassins, it was a silent language spoken through sweets and drinks.

No words.

No suspicion.

No evidence.

Just another peaceful afternoon inside the city's most beloved maid café where every smile could hide a murderer...