Robin saw Zola was silent and was about to speak when he was interrupted. "The person has arrived," a familiar voice announced. He couldn't place it, dismissing the thought as overthinking. How could there be a Black Gold top killer around me?

He fought back his anger, scanning the rooftop. Returning to his original spot, embarrassment washed over him. It's late, I'm freezing, and Zola's being cryptic. Yvette's not here. Is he playing games? This so-called top killer has no professional ethics. I'll complain on the website! This is outrageous! His jaw trembled.

"Mr. Zola," Robin sputtered, "I don't know why you're messing with me. I've already paid you two hundred million. Is this your standard of operation? If you haven't caught the person, why did you make me come out here in the middle of the night? What about your professional ethics?"

A light laugh echoed from the rooftop's edge, where Yvette sat. "This Robin really loves to talk about professional ethics," she chuckled.

The laugh, chilling in the wind, pierced Robin's mind. He recognized it—the laugh that had shattered him during the day's match. No way! Zola's laugh is the same as Yvette's?

Yvette turned, rising from the edge. Her brown hair lifted in the wind, her black leather jacket accentuating her cool, handsome demeanor. Her eyes, devoid of warmth, held a mix of coolness and fierceness. Her exquisite face, illuminated by moonlight, was almost intimidating.

Robin felt as if struck by lightning. His body trembled, speech failing him. He collapsed, pale and frozen, pointing at Yvette as he stumbled backward, speechless. What's happening? Why is Yvette here? Zola was supposed to meet me. Am I dreaming? This has to be a dream! But the cold and Yvette's smile confirmed reality. A horrifying possibility dawned on him. Don't Zola and Zeller share a Z? His eyes, vacant with fear, widened. "Are you Zola? You're the top killer Zola from Black Gold?"

Yvette, in Martin boots, approached calmly. Removing her baseball cap, a mischievous smile played on her lips, her blue eyes gleaming. Her delicate eyebrows and eyes were icy as she said, "Yes, it's me."

Those three words shattered Robin. He felt utterly helpless. This world is too absurd! An Interpol agent and a top killer? The world has gone mad! He stared, knowing escape was impossible. I paid someone to rape and kill her. With her temper, she won't let me go. He fought his fear. I won't die at Yvette's hands. He attempted a threat.

"Don't forget this is Betrico. I'm part of the Ybaulla delegation visiting Clusia. If anything happens to me, Ybaulla and the Jenkins family will hold you accountable. You can't escape. Spare me, and I'll return to Ybaulla and never reveal your identity. We can forget this. You won the chess match, didn't you?"

His threat morphed into a plea for mercy, his pride abandoned. He only wanted to live.

Yvette raised an eyebrow, tilting her head. "You mean the Jenkins family won't let me go?"

Robin nodded frantically. "Yes! My father values me. If anything happened, he'd avenge me. You wouldn't want to provoke such a powerful enemy, right? Spare me, and I won't expose you. I guarantee it."

Yvette was silent, then smiled.

Robin was stunned.

Yvette pinched her wrist, her blue eyes narrowing. "Then just kill us both."

What is she talking about? Yvette glanced at her watch. "Time's up." She stepped forward. Before Robin could react, a hard kick sent him sprawling. She donned disposable gloves, crouched, and snapped his chin back. He tried to scream but couldn't before she pressed something into his mouth.

It tasted sweet and sour, but Robin knew it was deadly.

Yvette stepped back, observing his struggling form. Her expression remained emotionless.

Robin didn't realize he'd ingested the world's real No. 7 Toxin. Its terror wasn't just death, but the three-hour agony preceding it. Only Yvette possessed it.

Robin thrashed on the ground, desperately clawing at his throat, his efforts futile. The toxin, personally developed by Yvette, melted instantly, its effects irreversible.

His body turned cold, pain tearing at him. His limbs convulsed, his moans of agony echoing. He rolled, his legs thrashing, his fingers tearing at his chest, leaving bloodstains on his pale skin. His body arched, his eyes wild, his screams horrifying.

Yvette stood nearby, almost disappearing into the moonlit darkness.