Roan Hunt

People assumed Roan Hunt was dangerous. They were right. What they never guessed was how dangerous. At first glance, he looked ordinary enough. A man in a dark coat standing at a crossroads. A stranger reading a book in the corner of a tavern. A passerby walking down the road in the shadows twilight brings. Nobody noticed how carefully he watched everything around him. Nobody noticed how he always chose the seat facing the door. Nobody noticed that he could tell who was carrying a weapon before they spoke a word. Roan preferred it that way. An assassin's greatest weapon wasn't a gun or a knife. It was being forgotten. At twenty-eight, Roan had built a reputation that existed only in whispers. Governments denied knowing him. Criminal organizations feared him. Wealthy clients paid fortunes for a name they would never say aloud. The Ghost Hunter. The man who never missed. The man who never cared. At least, that was the story. The truth was hidden beneath the scars on his knuckles and the cold expression he wore like armor. Hidden beneath years of blood and secrets. Because despite everything he'd done, despite every life he'd taken, Roan Hunt still remembered every face. Every name. Every regret. And lately, the weight of them was becoming harder to carry. That was the problem with being an assassin. The world expected you to be a monster. But Roan Hunt was beginning to wonder what would happen if there was still a man left underneath.

更新於 September 23, 2026