Thug and Idol: 10X Rewards Second Identity System

People gasped in shock when Tristan pushed them off his path, or just weaved around them. They would've been even more affronted if they knew Tristan was using them as a cover from the sniper.

He could feel the sniper's aim at him, flickering like a candlelight. The unknown attacker was trailing Tristan with an almost machine-like precision despite all the obstacles in Tristan's way.

Tristan felt him zeroing on himself even though the people. If Tristan just kept using people as a cover, it was a matter of seconds before he would be shot, regardless.

Sadly, there weren't actual crowds on the street, not this late—even in a tourist area like this. The last stretch to the cover of a street turn Tristan had to travel without cover—all two meters of it.

More than enough to be shot.

Tristan cursed inwardly.

With his knowledge of ballistics and firearms multiplied by his intelligence, Tristan knew that even just grabbing another person to use as a living shield won't work.

The sniper was using a rifle powerful enough to shoot through the "shield" and still leave Tristan with a lethal wound. He also had enough skill to have at least a high chance of not missing.n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

An 80% chance, perhaps. When it meant 20% chance of Tristan saving his skin, he didn't like those numbers at all.

As Tristan thought all this, his legs brought him to the final stretch. He froze before it—not physically, but in time, as it slowed down again.

The sharp gaze of the sniper—he was almost feeling it on himself again. Now Tristan could tell where it was coming from with much more precision than before, despite the massive distance separating them. The more intent the gaze was, the easier it was to locate.

With the addition of the trajectory of the shot from earlier, Tristan could estimate the sniper's position better than ever.

'This is my best chance to get through this,' Tristan realized.

He focused his brainpower on that.

The trajectory of the shot from earlier was horizontal—the sniper wasn't located behind a high-floor window, or on the roof. He was shooting from just above the street-level, possibly from a high-wheeled car. A truck?

How he wasn't noticed was another story entirely. Tristan wasn't going to wonder about it yet.

With all the people walking on the sidewalk, there wasn't much space for a sniper to shoot from without obstruction.

Tristan's eyes scanned the street in the sniper's direction in an instant of the slowed-down time. Far, far away—his eyes could barely discern it without binoculars—Tristan saw it.

A gray truck, or a van, parked on the side of the road—it was too far to distinguish, and most of it was hidden by other cars.

Were the people around the car alarmed by the shot that came from it? Did they see the sniper?

Tristan couldn't. He was too far away. But when he looked in this direction, he could feel the sniper's gaze meeting his head-on.

'This is my chance!'

Tristan's brows lowered in a scowl glacial enough to not merely kill a person, but also preserve their body until the next century. It was a gaze that, without fail, froze people in their tracks for a few precious moments thanks to Tristan's 'Freezing Glare' talent.

At this distance, Tristan had no idea whether it worked.

The time resumed its normal pace, and Tristan had no choice but to keep running.

'I still have at least 20%!' Tristan reminded himself.

He used all his speed for these two meters, while also moving in an erratic trajectory that would make it harder to aim at him.

Two steps into this mad charge, Tristan knew he won. The pressure of the sniper's gaze disappeared—the freezing glare must've worked.

The distance was over in an instant. Finally safe behind a solid concrete wall, Tristan let himself let out a long, shaky breath.

His heart was beating fast, and his palms were sweaty with tension.

'I fucking hate surprise assassins,' he thought darkly.

What was worse, Tristan knew he can't just stay in this place and think that he won. The sniper had a car—he would follow and try to shoot again, Tristan was sure.

But he had a map of the region in his head, and already planned a route that would let him get out without getting into the sniper's sights again.

'But not in a car, after all. The last thing I want is to get stuck in a traffic jam somewhere near the hotel.'

With a huff, Tristan cracked his joints and began running at a fast, but sustainable pace. Some people on the street turned surprised looks toward him and the torn hood of Tristan's jacket, but he was inconspicuous enough to still stay mostly unnoticed.

More importantly, he successfully avoided the sniper all the way to the hotel.

There, Tristan avoided Derek until he could change clothing to something not sweaty and torn, and then pretended that nothing was wrong.

There was nothing Derek could do about a professional assassin of that sniper's caliber.

With carefully hidden tension, he waited for the morning to come inside his room. There was nothing in the latest batch of reports addressed to Tristan Hayes that could have given him a hint about why Tristan was attacked today.

But Tristan suspected this sniper was someone he already knew. Someone who was most likely only attacking Tristan Gemello to get to Tristan Hayes.

'And if I'm right about this, then it's extremely important right now to not give the assassin suspicions about my two identities. If I get a stat penalty for being discovered NOW, then I'm as good as done. Not to mention what the assassin might do with the information.'

If the sniper was sent by someone, and not acting on his own accord, then it was all too easy for him to share that information with his employer, and then…

Tristan shuddered to imagine.