Chapter 5 (Revised Edition)

How could Graves not know that YN was actually an intelligence dealer? Moreover, she was one with a remarkable track record.

From the moment YN immigrated from Russia to America, Graves’ outstanding intelligence network, operating under his command, had swiftly provided him with extraordinarily detailed accounts of her life experiences since she turned sixteen.

At eighteen, after her Russian foster parents died in a car accident, their siblings quickly seized the couple’s property and various inheritances. Forced out at such a young age, YN refused to live under someone else’s roof or be adopted by another couple. Orphaned, she began drifting between states—wandering.

The intelligence network had uncovered quite a blemished past—too many misdeeds to count. Even as Graves furrowed his brows, he patiently scrolled through her long list of dishonorable incidents on his tablet.

Survival alone was her daily norm, with fighting being commonplace. She once set a record by single-handedly beating up all the homeless on an entire street in one night.

It was only after turning eighteen that she began stealing intelligence, embarking on the path of an information dealer.

She was highly successful at making money, yet the funds often vanished without a trace.

There it was—a breakthrough. Where did all the money she earned end up?

Graves issued a new directive to his intelligence network—to thoroughly investigate the whereabouts of YN’s money.

Often, after earning from selling intelligence, she would spend entire days wandering the largest department stores in her area, especially the furniture, home goods, and toy sections.

But she never bought anything.

She merely stood in front of those items, gazing at them as if she had never owned such things but longed to. She had no other family, no friends. Even during her two years of high school, when boys from neighboring classes invited her out, she declined, citing study as an excuse.

Shadow-9527 reported honestly to Graves, “YN’s greatest wish is to have a home that truly belongs to her.”

Based on the intelligence and Shadow-9527’s account, this wish appeared genuine.

A young woman in her prime, capable and resourceful, yet without money?

Graves sent an urgent message to the intelligence network.

Suddenly, a thought crossed Graves’ mind, and his hand paused on the screen—had she ever sold herself?

He had no interest in his subordinates' private lives. When it was time to relax, they should relax; when it was time to fight, they should fight. He didn’t interfere beyond that.

So why was he thinking about this?

The mere possibility that she had sold herself tightened his heartstrings.

He turned off the tablet. There was still some time before the plane landed for resupply. Graves sighed. Rather than waste time on this, he might as well accept more missions to solidify Shadow Company’s reputation in this brutal world.

But as the boss, it was also necessary to care about his employees.

In a moment’s resolve, Graves put down his burdens, convinced himself, and picked up the tablet again. He wanted answers.

Oz, sitting beside him, glanced at Graves’ tablet. Graves was so serious—planning for them even before the operation began. He truly was a good leader and commander.

The intelligence on YN’s life before sixteen in Russia was still pending—“needs more time,” came the reply.

Although the answer was almost within reach, before officially revealing it, Graves thought playing a game of “cat and mouse” with such a “distinguished” intelligence dealer seemed quite fitting.

Since she had chosen the path of an intelligence dealer, she must accept its challenges.

---

“Not bad. Making new friends is a good thing,” Graves paused while cleaning his gun. He knew YN had befriended the short sergeant from the 141 Special Forces, nicknamed “Apple Dog,” who wore a skull mask.

This was Shadow Team’s first collaboration with the 141 Special Forces. Graves had heard that the 141 Special Forces’ operations commander, Lieutenant Ghost, and Sergeant Apple Dog had recently married.

As newlyweds fighting shoulder to shoulder on the battlefield, it seemed like quite an experience.

Thinking of this newlywed couple, Graves couldn’t help but frown. The reason was simple—the operation had just begun, yet he was being force-fed so much “couple affection.”

As a perennial bachelor, Graves would never willingly indulge in such “couple talk.” But this time, it was forced upon him.

Graves had never settled down. Aside from chasing fame and fortune, he seemingly had no other worldly desires.

Naturally, he couldn’t comprehend the dynamic between Ghost and Apple Dog—both comrades and spouses—and the complex emotions that came with such dual identities.

Nor was he interested in such things. Love was never as important as fame and fortune.

YN stood nearby, nodding slightly, tacitly agreeing with Graves’ comment about her new friend.

Seeing him a bit tense, YN’s expressionless face suddenly softened into a polite smile. She said to Graves, “Boss, if there’s nothing else, I’ll go help the Shadows.”

No more stammering now?

The Shadows were resting and recuperating for the mission; they didn’t need her help. This was merely an excuse from YN—she didn’t want to face Graves.

Having said that, she turned to leave, eager to escape his presence.

Graves said, “Traitor…”

YN replied, “Boss, rest assured! I would never betray you!”

Graves let out a cold laugh. Before he said anything, she was already somewhat caught off guard.

“Good. That’s the kind of loyal employee Shadow Company needs.” One of Commander Philip Graves’ specialties was mobilizing and motivating. “Shadow Company needs devoted employees like you! After the mission, you’ll get a bonus.”

Upon hearing Graves mention bonuses, YN felt as if she were on a roller coaster about to reach its peak, though she still stood there stunned.

When it came to money, YN’s interest was piqued—

“Boss, um… will my bonus be doubled? What do I need to do?”

The Shadows were fighting with real steel and blood. She didn’t want to push herself, but she also felt she shouldn’t take money for nothing. For a bonus, she must contribute something…

Graves seemed to want to say something but remained silent.

He quietly observed YN. After a night’s rest, her complexion was better than on the plane. Her black hair, smooth eyebrows, and rosy lips stood out, though her face was still somewhat pale, and dark circles lingered beneath her eyes.

She was very attractive. No wonder the Shadows couldn’t stop staring at her on the plane.

“Boss… I’m not ‘Bunny,’ you know,” YN felt it necessary to clarify once more.

Graves smiled slightly. “I know you’re not. Come here, help me clean the guns.”

Compared to others, he was the person she most needed to please and approach.

As an intelligence dealer, should it be said she was excellent at managing emotions, or that she wasn’t very good at it?

Regarding betrayal, he had mentioned it casually. Her frightened reaction made her face even paler.

“All right, boss.”

Upon receiving Graves’ order, YN removed the black gloves she had been wearing and stood beside him, working diligently.

Swift yet meticulous, her gun-cleaning was much faster than Graves’. The barrel, magazine, chamber, stock, and shoulder rest were all disassembled and wiped clean with a fiber cloth.

Graves sighed quietly when YN wasn’t paying attention. This little rabbit didn’t even bother pretending?

According to his plan, as an intelligence dealer, she should at least have used that pitiful expression on the plane and softly said, “Boss, I don’t know how to clean guns. Teach me.”

Then, as a good boss, he would patiently explain step by step how to disassemble and clean a firearm.

If she didn’t understand something, he would patiently clarify until she did.

Under his gentle guidance and mature patience, she would be won over—“Boss, you’re amazing!”

Their relationship would grow closer, testing each other between truth and deception. Such interplay was fitting for their true identities.

But here she was, cleaning guns quickly and well!

In his opinion, if Shadow Company held a gun-cleaning competition, YN would undoubtedly be first, with all others unable to match her.

One reason Graves suddenly asked YN to help clean guns was that when she saw him earlier, her expression flashed as if she had seen a “plague.”

He wasn’t a plague. Was she really so unhappy to be in the same space with him?

---

Graves set down his weapon, recalling YN’s expression when she saw him. Had he barely interacted with her, and yet she was already avoiding him so much?

Though her expressions changed quickly, Graves, the keen Philip Graves, had sensed one thing—she didn’t want much contact with him but was compelled to endure it.

Sometimes, Graves could be a bit mischievous. He liked seeing her so “compelled.” Out of mercy, he gave her a chance to get close, and she responded by diligently working.

She wouldn’t even show a faint smile for intelligence or money?

YN’s serious demeanor made Graves slow his cleaning and watch her with his peripheral vision.

She was entirely focused on cleaning guns, as if nothing else in the world mattered.

Her hands were small and very fair beneath the gloves. She handled the gun’s nooks and crannies expertly.

Machine oil stained her trimmed cuticles black.

One by one, the guns were cleaned. The sound of YN pulling the bolt echoed oddly in the quiet atmosphere.

Only Graves’ gun remained in his hand.

The Middle Eastern heat was intense. Standing under the partially shaded mesh fabric for so long made YN feel hot, especially since she was working hard.

She looked down at her hands, now blackened with oil, and tried to wipe sweat from her cheek with the cleaner back of her hand.

“Boss, will you clean this one, or shall I?”

YN’s mind was simple—if the boss asked her to work, she would.

She wanted her boss to know she had turned over a new leaf. She was now a cleaner—a very diligent cleaner.

The oil on the back of her hand smudged onto her cheek as she wiped.

She stood upright and realized she wasn’t much shorter than Graves.

What? She only just noticed her boss wasn’t very tall.

In fact, Graves stood around 1.78 meters, just shy of 1.8 meters.

YN was just over 1.6 meters, so the height difference was minimal.

To be honest, YN didn’t look down on Graves’ height; it was just that among special forces, his stature was unimpressive.

Most of his subordinates were taller than him by a fair margin.

But—how exhilarating! A man under 1.8 meters commanding everyone, with all of Shadow Company under his authority.

Suddenly, Graves lifted his hand toward YN.

Just as he almost touched her cheek, though she stood still, she slightly bent forward, dodging his hand.

The air carried not only the scorching heat of the sun but also the scents of gunpowder and awkwardness.

Graves said, “Come here, YN. You have oil on your face.”

YN replied, “It’s fine, boss. I can clean it myself.”

She stepped back and turned to the nearby basin. After washing the black oil off her hands, she splashed water on her face to clean the oil stains.

Graves’ hand remained suspended midair.

He had encountered intelligence dealers infiltrating Shadow Company before.

Money could move mountains; such was the world’s rule. Everything had its price, especially in intelligence work, where buying and selling were commonplace.

He was skilled at bending intelligence dealers to his will, making them submit.

So, YN, what will your price be?