Her Game--The Glass Test

London · Shoreditch December 7, 2024 — 19:47 When Eva pushed open the back door of the bar, the tears of the last man still clung faintly to her fingertips. Three hours earlier, a young woman named Emily had transferred the deposit into Eva’s account, attaching a photograph with a brief message: “His name is Matt. Financial analyst. Four years together. He’s planning to propose next Friday. Help me find out whether he’s worth saying yes to.” Now Eva knew the answer. Matt had knelt in the hotel room, gripping her hand, his voice trembling. “I’ve never met anyone like you. I know this sounds insane—but we’ve only known each other three days, and I already feel like… you’re the one.” He reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and took out a small velvet ring box. It was the very same ring he had intended for Emily. Eva regarded the box and smiled faintly. When she smiled, the tiny mole beneath the corner of her left eye tilted slightly upward, like a butterfly resting upon the trace of a tear. “Are you sure?” she asked. “What about your girlfriend?” Matt hesitated for a single second. Then came a long silence. Within that silence, the feverish light in his eyes shifted—first to unease, and then to something brazenly self-justifying. “Some things,” he said at last, “just can’t be explained.” Eva rose to her feet and placed the ring box back into his palm. Leaning close, she bent toward his ear and spoke in a voice only the two of them could hear. “Emily asked me to pass along a message,” she murmured. “Thank you for saving her the trouble of a wedding.” She walked out of the hotel room without looking back. Behind her, the sound of a man slamming against the door cracked through the corridor like a gunshot. Now the winter rain of East London struck Eva’s face in cold needles. She stood beneath the awning of the bar’s back alley, lighting a cigarette as she glanced at the seventh message Matt had sent her. Who are you? Did Emily hire you? Do you know each other? Please reply—I need an explanation. Eva swiped the notification away and blocked the number. In six years, she had received hundreds of messages just like it. Some were furious, some shattered, some begged for another chance. She never replied. It was her first rule: when the test ends, the connection ends. No explanations. No aftermath. No exceptions. Her phone vibrated again. Eva glanced down, assuming Matt had called from a different number. Instead, the name on the screen read: Cherry. Her partner—and the only person who knew her real identity. “Urgent,” Cherry said, her voice lowered. “Just accepted a job. The client offered triple the price and specifically requested you.” “Terms?” “The target’s name is Liam. Thirty-four. Architect. The client is his girlfriend of six months—Claire. She’s leaving on a business trip next week and wants him tested while she’s gone.” Eva exhaled a slow stream of smoke. “Send me the file.” “Wait.” Cherry hesitated. “There’s something else you should know. Claire says Liam used to have a fiancée. Three years ago—one week before the wedding—the woman vanished. Completely disappeared. They never found her.” For a moment, the rain seemed unnaturally loud. Eva ground the cigarette against the wall. “And?” “And this guy is either hopelessly devoted,” Cherry said, her breath audible over the line, “or he’s a murderer who hasn’t been caught yet. Your choice.” Eva was silent for three seconds. Then she laughed. “A tragic romantic or a killer?” She shifted the phone to her other ear. “Interesting.” “So—are you taking it?” “Yes.” Just before the call ended, Cherry asked suddenly, “Eva… out of the hundred and twenty-one jobs you’ve done, has there ever been one that made you feel… like you were wrong?” Eva did not answer. She pushed open the bar’s back door and stepped into the warm amber light inside. And then she saw him. He sat at the far end of the bar, wearing an old cashmere sweater, a glass of whiskey in his hand. Two-thirds of the ice had already melted. He was reading a book—not scrolling on his phone, not pretending to be with some glossy magazine, but an actual hardcover, its pages softened by time. Eva needed only a single glance at his profile. Then she stopped. Because she had seen this man before. Not three years ago. Not on any assignment. In a photograph. The photograph Cherry had just sent her. Liam Frost. The target. He was sitting less than five meters away. And Eva had come here tonight to meet someone else—her assignment for the evening. Cherry had said the man’s name was Chris, Liam’s business partner. Married. His wife suspected him of having an affair. But Chris hadn’t come. Only this man had. He closed his book and looked up. His eyes were gray—the color of a lake beneath winter skies. He looked at Eva the way one looks at someone long awaited. “You’re here,” he said. Not a question. Eva’s back touched the door behind her. She wasn’t sure whether she had taken a step back, or simply never moved at all. “Do we know each other?” He stood. He was taller than she had imagined. Sliding the book into the pocket of his coat, he walked past her—then paused. “No,” he said softly. “But I’ve been waiting.” He pushed open the door and stepped out into the rain. Eva stood frozen. Three seconds later she rushed outside— The rain had stopped. The street was empty. Only the wet seams of brick reflected the glow of the streetlights. Her phone rang. A message from Cherry: Chris cancelled the meeting at the last minute. Liam may know something. Abort. Eva stared at the screen. Three seconds later, she replied: No！