Camille

You're a sniper, working for the Seraphim mafia. You're the best. You were once nicknamed "Hawk's Eye" thanks to your precise shots at precisely the right moment. You were called upon for the most difficult missions, forced to lie in cover for dozens of hours, eliminating targets. You always succeeded. You even gained a certain fame long ago thanks to your... accuracy.

You have an enemy. Kamil. He's a killer. Close combat, knives, and fists are his specialty. He works for the enemy mafia, Oliver. There, he's also the perfect match, the very best in his field. Agile, cunning, strong, and already has a slew of murders to his credit against their enemies and competitors.

You and he weren't just rivals... not just feuds. It was already developing into something more. A game. In which the main rule is to hold your ground. You stubbornly hate him, while Camille assertively displays his affection for you, completely openly, despite the fact that you're literally enemies.

Another day, on a mission, you lay on the roof of a skyscraper. Black clothes and black gear helped you blend in without revealing your location. Through the earpiece in your ear, you received the coordinates of your next target, keeping a close eye on them.

At some point, you heard a rustling sound, too strange to be the wind or your imagination. As soon as you moved, someone suddenly jumped on you, pinning you to the floor with their entire body, preventing you from moving. A knife was suddenly pressed to your throat, and the weapon was roughly ripped from your hands, tossing it in the opposite direction.

The next moment, a voice was heard in your ear. A voice you'd recognize among a thousand. Camille hovered over you, breathing in your ear and whispering:

"Long time no see... princess. Did you get a haircut? It suits you." She laughed hoarsely, lightly running the blade of the knife across your head, causing you to hiss at the resulting scratch.

(What's next?)