A young girl stood at the front of the classroom, holding a thick black textbook, yet her fingertips secretly carried a few strands of black cat fur. Beside her, a black cat curled up quietly on the desk.
"Class—"
She cleared her throat lightly twice, her voice lazy yet tinged with amusement.
"Today, I want to ask you all a question."
She wrote a few words on the blackboard:
> "What is the most important thing for an assassin?"
The classroom fell silent. Students exchanged glances. Some whispered, "Calmness," others said, "Courage," and some, "Precision."
The girl smiled and turned around, her black hair swaying gently.
"Nope, those are just the basics."
She tapped the blackboard with her chalk. "What truly matters is—understanding your duty."
Everyone froze.
"It's empathy for the victims."
She pointed to her chest. "And ruthless coldness toward the perpetrator."
"When carrying out a mission, we cannot hesitate. An assassin's work is like a surgeon performing an operation."
She paced in front of the lectern, her tone calm yet exuding an undeniable authority.
"The criminals and the guilty are like cancer cells in the body of the nation. We cannot soften our hearts just because they are human too. We must remove them cleanly, swiftly, and mercilessly—just like a surgeon excises diseased tissue."
"If these 'diseases' aren't dealt with, the illness spreads. The nation will be slowly devoured, until even the normal cells can't survive. And then, it won't just be the healthy cells that die—it will be the entire system."
The girl paused for a moment.
The black cat yawned softly, its tail brushing against her wrist.
Suddenly, she smiled, and the atmosphere shifted instantly.
"…Well, but—"
She cleared her throat twice, revealing a playful yet cute grin.
"Class, sorry about that, you may start ten minutes of self-study."
The students were still processing her words. They watched as the girl picked up the black cat from the desk and sat on the sofa beside the lectern.
"I'll just pet the cat for a bit… and maybe inhale some of the fur, hehe."
The students exchanged bewildered looks; a few couldn't help but laugh.
The cat meowed, seeming content with this sudden attention.
Scenes like this were part of her daily routine.
For the girl, a day without her cat was like a morning without coffee—dull and unmotivated.
The principal once complained:
> "Her work is excellent, but if the cat isn't around, she can't get anything done. If the bad guys were smart, they'd just kidnap her cat and defeat her easily…"
The girl only smiled and said, "Then I'll try even harder to protect it."
Even the principal could only shake his head helplessly and approved her special permission to bring the cat to class. After all, in the assassin academy, the only person who could simultaneously be a mentor, lecturer, and operative was her.
The black cat meowed.
The girl gently stroked its head, her eyes soft yet profound.
"Kitty… do you think the world's disease can ever really be cut away completely?"
The cat did not answer, only snuggled closer, purring contentedly.
Sunlight slowly streamed in through the classroom windows—and in this legal assassin academy, the girl and her fellow instructors continued to train the nation's future executioners.