The night clung drowsily to her and yet Soleil barely got a wink of sleep. She had given the order, had resolutely delivered her mother to the knife, but the outcome, whatever it might be, traced paths through her mind. Sometimes she wondered if her mother still knew who she was. They hadn't seen each other in ages and high society life differed from that of all those who barely kept their heads above water on a monthly basis.

Soleil spent the early hours of the morning playing on her mobile phone. Something had to distract her.

And at four she got a message from Illumi.

Instantly, she sat up on her sofa and stared at the little icon she knew all too well. Something had happened, and the result had been sent to her. She took a few breaths before opening the app and letting the programme read the message to her.

"The job has been completed.
Account number: 400185 CX6455."

Nothing more. No details. Just the result.

She was dead.

The icy gaze on the phone and the firm grip of her hands seemed unwilling to relent as the lump formed in her throat and breathing became heavier. Relief rivalled a flood as Soleil leaned forward and a few tears dripped onto the thin woollen blanket. The fabric absorbed her joy while a hint of pain ran circles in the background.

Her mother was no more. The woman who had once held her hand, at least on good days, was no longer there. And though it was a good thing, the silent ache in her heart remained. In the end, it had been family.

Now she was completely alone.

The fingers tapped shakily across the display to thank Illumi and enter the payment. She copied the sequence he had sent her, and with one swipe, Chrollo's money was gone. All that was left was what she had from dancing. A few Jenny that would keep her going for a while if she reduced her needs just a little more. If she only used cold water for showers, turned off all electrical appliances and left the lights off in the evening; if she ate soup and drank from the tap for an entire week, she could live on her money for fourteen days.

It wouldn't be any longer than that before they handed over everything her mother had owned. The authorities were quick with money and prestige.

With the back of her hand, Soleil rubbed her face once before putting her mother in the background and imagining the world more rosy. She could live differently. She would have a fridge and maybe she could eat something tasty once in a while. The world would be truly open to her for the first time and maybe she would find a profession, a job that brought her joy. Something that gave her a better place than the one she had in society.

The thought alone was enough to awaken anticipation. Freedom had a nice ring to it and helping Chrollo in his scheme had paid off better than expected. The money had paved her future - one that would last longer than maybe three years. One where she didn't have to dance anymore.

It felt so surreal that Soleil rubbed both hands through her face and took a breath. The blackness behind her lids allowed images to linger on her for longer than necessary. Chrollo's handsome face and the kind, quiet way about him were still present. His scent hadn't completely faded, though she had nothing with her that smelled like him, and Illumi, too, moved in between the scenes that were flooding her.

In those seconds, it was okay to think about them. It was okay not to question the problems and imagine getting to know such men better. She would never see either of them again, anyway. So Soleil took the freedom to follow the images as the decision inside solidified. She wouldn't go dancing again. She would just wait it out. Until everything was done and the city was behind her.

The dream lasted an eternity, throwing everlasting ideas at her and withdrawing them again until the mobile vibrated on her lap. Completely unexpected and so sudden that Soleil flinched. Her shoulders twitched as she hastily grabbed the device and stared at the display, only to catch sight of a new message.

Illumi had indeed texted her back, and the app read it to her so slowly she could almost mimic each letter.

"I was just doing the job."

It was a pretty straightforward response to her thank you note. But it looked like an open window that could provide a bit of entertainment if Illumi engaged with it. So she spoke in a new message, hoping he would be up for a conversation. "Still, you didn't exceed my price, though a human life probably costs more. You gave me a discount and carried out my order, although you could have simply refused. As an assassin, you have the right not to accept everything. But you did."

Maybe it was wrong. Presumably, one didn't turn to people who killed others as a vocation. Then again, there was that tiny glimmer of advantage that a friendship with an assassin promised security no one else could give her.

The thought made her shake her head. Illumi was a killer. One of those people from whom it was best to keep a distance. No human who clung to the words of morality would turn to an assassin.

But she was hardly different from him.

Her mother was dead because of her. That made her no less a murderer than Illumi. True, she hadn't wielded the knife, but she had commanded it. And writing with a murderer couldn't be a crime. After all, they were only words. From person to person. With different lives, different perspectives and different worldviews.

Illumi's reply followed half an eternity later and reading it aloud revealed it to be a longer text. "That's right. Assassins can decide what mission they accept. Yours was a minor one. Taking ordinary lives is cheaper than having a politician killed."

"Aren't you ever afraid of getting caught?" Her voice sounded terribly sceptical in contrast to the expression of the text.

And this time, too, she got an answer minutes later. "We don't leave any traces."

"We? Assassins all together, or do you have a partner?"

"My family are assassins." His message felt so direct that Soleil raised her eyebrows.

"Isn't that sort of thing strictly confidential?"

"No." The voice reading aloud faltered for a moment. "It's not a secret. Most people know where we live and what we do."

The appreciative whistle that crept across Soleil's lips echoed in her own ears. If everyone knew where his family lived and everyone could tell what they did for a living, then the Zoldycks had to be strong. Strong enough to stand up to anyone who sought revenge.

Once again, she glanced over the conversation. Illumi had no problem sharing information. At least when she brushed aside the thought that he considered her completely harmless. As slow as he answered, he probably rarely had the phone in his fingers and if he could kill anyone he was given as an assignment - at least if that was exactly how she pictured it - he had to be strong. Powerful and hard-working.

"It almost makes me envious. I wish I had it in me, too."

"You could learn Nen," was the loose reply.

"I could learn what?"

"Nen."

His answer didn't make her smarter at all. Not even a look at the internet got her anywhere. Nen sounded strange. A bit like something you should have, but still didn't know.

She had no choice but to admit ignorance. "What is Nen?"

His answer took forever to come. But he actually took the time to explain at least a small part of it to her. "Nen is created by your aura. It makes you become stronger. There are different kinds. You need to find out what type you are first."

She understood very little of what he was explaining, but the mere fact he was answering triggered joy in her. He could have just ignored her. Still, he answered, and it made the minutes more precious.

"You'd think we were friends." It was both a joke and a little push. A base she wanted to build on if he agreed to go along with it. They couldn't have been more different, but Illumi seemed like a man with whom friendship was easy. Uncomplicated. Just as it was with Hell.

"Assassins don't need friends." A bitter answer that made her mouth twist.

"Maybe you don't need any, but you can have some. Friends can be quite nice."

"Friends don't give you anything. Why would you want something that is utterly useless?"

"Because it's not useless. Friendship drives away loneliness. Real friends can be trusted with anything. They make you laugh or help you decide what to do. They help you when you need help and they always have your back." For a moment, Soleil had to think of Hell. She had been the best friend she had made in her years on the pole. She had made the evenings more bearable and had turned the breaks into a completely different world. "Friendships are precious. Especially as you get older."

"Friends are debilitating," appeared in the chat window a moment later, causing the A.I. to nearly flip over the words as she read them aloud. "They're a target. They get in your way when you're working and they don't have any added value. Everything you name, I can do with a stranger before I kill them."

"Time brings a lot with it, though," Soleil countered. He was stubborn, kind of stuck, and yet probably convinced he was right. "Doesn't anyone in your family have friends?"

The answer took its time. For a little while, Soleil kept her eyes on the clock before her lids slowly grew heavy and the sun was already bathing the sky in friendly brightness. The longer Illumi made her wait, the harder it became to keep the eyes open and when she was almost half asleep, a single word came back, dragging the reading voice strangely.

"Some do."

Only slowly could she get her tired lips to form as she spoke. Her words sounded unclear to her ears, but she had faith that the app understood what she was trying to say. "And you really don't have anyone?"

"No. Like I said. Assassins don't need friends."

His words made her smile, so she rubbed her eyes heavily once before speaking in the next message. "And I said you may not need any, but you can have some. I can be your friend."

Probably sleep drove her crazy. But she was to walk a fresh path, start a new life, and do it entirely alone. Hell didn't even own a mobile phone. They wouldn't be able to keep in touch. But Illumi seemed to be someone she could get along with. Someone who, despite profession, was perhaps a good friend she could at least talk to over chat.

"And what do I get out of being friends with you?" His blunt question graced the chat window like a warning as the words were read to her.

Soleil had no value. She was replaceable. Just like almost every other person on the planet. But she was prepared to make friends, and probably few who knew who Illumi was dared to do that.

"A friend. And with that, someone to listen to you when you want to talk about your day. Or about anything else, whatever you want. And it's the same the other way around. We talk to each other," she finally returned to him. It was the simplest answer she could find and simultaneously, it was all the conviction she had.

Friendships were strange.

So was Illumi when he answered her with a flat "okay" and let the conversation rest on that. His nature was unlike anything she knew, and the strip club had put many strange individuals in front of her. People could have the wildest differences, but Illumi was just peculiar.

And that was exactly what made him somehow likeable.