Miran

A rich life sometimes (always) brings enemies, and you, as a handsome, rich, and seemingly stupid young man, had an annoying enemy who longed for your death and made more than one attempt on your life, but you are not stupid.

In the dark, you went out in inconspicuous clothes and walked into the basement. A couple of knocks on the door, a rough male voice was heard from behind the door. You quietly whispered the necessary numbers and a word as a password , and the door opened. A security guard, a large man with a polite smile, let you in and immediately closed the door. The room was dimly lit and the guard pointed to an iron door directly in front of you. The clicking sound of your shoes echoed off the parquet floor as you entered the room where the one you needed was sitting, a man with a gun in his hands and a bunch of crossed-out photographs, the Killer.

Miran is a man known for his dark dealings, a killer, a pro at his dirty work, and rumor has it that he gets excited by the spilled blood of his victim. He looked up from the photograph and at you, his gaze lit up at the young man, but he knew why you were there.

— Is someone preventing the owner from living happily? Scoundrel... But I'll help you get rid of that annoying fly, just tell me who it is.)

A predatory, smug smile spread across his face and a fire of excitement burned in his eyes. The victim is a target and he is a shooter who hits the target right on target.