It was the opening day of the new Palermo Fried Chicken Restaurant franchise, and the store was crowded with customers.
"One Crispy Cheesy Chicken!"
"How do you not have Cola?!"
"Anyone knows where's Marina? MARINAAAA! I need you to take over the frying station!"
"Gio, stop flirting with her!"
"I want fries mummy!"
Meanwhile, Elena was leaning against the table at a corner. From this spot, she could see the whole floor; her staff bustling about like worker bees; the family of three queuing in line.
She smiled. After months of planning and persuading the Palermo Fried Chicken Corporation to allow her to set up this franchise, it was finally open. Furthermore, it was only the first day and sales were already high.
It felt good to accomplish something with her own efforts for once. Her luck had helped along the way, of course, but Elena wasn't going to let that bring down her mood.
Craving to feel the satisfaction of seeing new customers streaming in again, she turned her head to look at the entrance.
She stopped.
Outside the restaurant, there was a veritable platoon of bodyguards approaching her. Strangely enough, they were wearing formal suits despite the hot weather. And in the center, was a man handsome enough to make a woman pregnant with just a look.
The first thought that ran through Elena's head, as she looked at them, was 'fuck'.
The second was, 'fuck he's hot'.
The man was standing in the middle of the bodyguards and dressed in a casual suit. When placed beside their stern expressions and formal attire, he seemed like a delinquent rich second generation.
The collar of his white shirt was open and flapping in the summer breeze, while his artfully windswept hair fluttered.
Elena cocked her head. That wasn't natural. His hair was stiffly staying in position, while his collar was moving wildly. Despite its stylishly messy look, he had probably spent hours preening it and slathered on copious amounts of hair gel to make sure it remained that way.
Deciding that she was done judging his hair, her eyes shifted to his face. His features were a mix of European and Chinese. He had brown eyes that were narrowed harshly in anger and were glaring straight at her. Meanwhile, his hair was a chestnut-brown and his nose was lifted high with disdain.
Elena rolled her eyes. Her 'arrogant bad-boy with a tragic past' radar was pinging like crazy. She could practically smell the angst rolling off him in waves.
If this man had a taste, she bet he'd taste like bitter dark chocolate. Too bad she hated dark chocolate. And at first glance, she already hated him.
She then gave his outfit a quick glance over — Gucci, Rolex, and a suit that was maybe from Armani. She could see the outline of his muscles through his white shirt, which meant that he was a gym regular. Evidently, he took great pains to maintain his looks and was the prideful sort.
Due to the hot summers of Italy, he had tan skin; much like most other Italian men. However, it was a shade paler. From this, Elena deduced that he probably didn't go out much and stayed indoors most of the time.
Her final judgement: a hot, prideful mess that probably relied on daddy's money to pick up girls while he spent way too much time playing video games at home or styling his hair.
Leaning against a table, she drummed the surface with her fingers impatiently. He was probably here for her.
She'd thought she could start over in Italy; stay on the down-low, lead a peaceful life. Run a lame ass fried chicken joint. Find an average boyfriend. No more assassins after her, and certainly no more gambling or lotteries.
But it was just her first week in Italy, and someone had already found her. Elena wondered what had given away her location. Usually, her luck caused most evidence of her ever being there to 'coincidentally' vanish.
Maybe an immigration officer would misplace her papers. Or a nervous clerk would accidentally delete several flight purchase records, including hers. In any case, it was the first time she had been found so soon.
The man and his ridiculous posse of bodyguards stopped right in front of her restaurant's glass door. The man lifted a palm and they stopped.
"ELENA ZHAO! Come out and I'll grant you a merciful death," the man shouted towards the restaurant in English while wearing a sardonic smile on his face.
The customers eating inside flinched. Heads turned as they starting looking for the person who had disturbed the raucous but peaceful atmosphere of the restaurant. When they saw him and his bulky bodyguards, they decided, 'nope, it was not their problem since none of them was called Elena Zhao.' Subsequently, they resumed their meal.
In the meantime, the real Elena Zhao was making an ugly expression. Yet another egotistical idiot who thought himself so handsome that he was above everyone else.
Should she warn him? Elena thought for a moment. It never did anything to stop those cocky fools. They never appreciated her warnings until it was too late. But then again, she mused, that was half the fun.
She cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted back in slightly accented English, "HEYY! You should leave or I will hurt you!"
The man muttered something under his breath, then looked at her with an icy gaze.
"I'll give you five minutes," he said and lifted his expensive looking watch. He fiddled with it, then pointed at his watch with his index finger with an expressionless face. "Tick tock."
"Show-off," Elena mumbled in Chinese. Who even wears a watch these days? She used her phone for all of that. She used it to check the time, as a stopwatch, and as a timer.
Elena decided to ignore him and pulled out her phone. She opened King of Glory and started playing.
"First blood!"
"An enemy has been slain!"
Five minutes passed. Elena frowned in concentration. Three of the enemy team had ambushed her in mid lane. None of her teammates were close enough to help, and she was only level four.
Her character Gong Sun Li, was a marksman. And like most marksmen, she was powerful in late game but easily killed in early game.
Elena pressed her first skill and darted away but another enemy dashed towards her and stunned her. The other two players converged on her like hyenas. She desperately tapped her second skill, but nothing happened. Her character was still under the stun effect.
'Come on!' she thought with a frown. 'Don't die!'
Suddenly, someone screamed. Elena heard a stampede of footsteps rushing away but she ignored it.
"Correre!" a woman screamed at her in Italian and shook her shoulders. Elena neither understood nor cared. She brushed away the hand. The woman hesitated, then looked up. Her expression twisted in horror and she quickly left like a frightened rabbit.
A second later, the enemy playing Arthur landed the final blow.
"An ally has been slain!"
Her character collapsed to the ground, bunny ears flopping down in sorrow. Then, it disappeared, leaving a lone blue umbrella where her body used to be.
Elena scowled. She lifted her head and froze when she felt cold metal against her forehead.
Her eyes flicked up.
Sweat oozed from her palms and her phone slipped to the ground.
The man was smiling mirthlessly, holding a gun to her head.
She'd made a mistake. She should have left. The woman had been warning her — and like an overconfident moron, she had ignored it. 'Fuck,' she thought.
Regret, fear and disbelief paralysed her. She stood there, dumbfounded and shaking. Wasn't her luck supposed to have dealt with him by now? How could this be happening?
It wasn't the first time someone tried to kill her. But it was the first time that they had come so close to succeeding.
Previously, none of them reached within five metres of her before being incapacitated. The first guy tripped on a rock and knocked himself out. The second guy had a sudden heart attack. As for the third guy…. Elena shuddered.
The man interrupted her thoughts. "Any last words?" he said, his calm tone belying his inner fury.
He flicked the safety off his gun.
Elena stared at the gun, eyes wide. She couldn't look away.
Maybe he would spare her if she begged? Elena gritted her teeth. For a moment, she was tempted. And she would do it if she weren't certain that he would kill her after having the satisfaction of watching her plead for mercy.
She would do anything to live. Even if she had to lick his boots, become his slave, or even his whore. But she doubted he would want her. She was ugly. Inside and out.
Her heart felt sour, full of envy and loathing towards herself.
Elena had fantasized about it before. What would she do if she was this or that character? What would she do when facing her murderer?
Would she go out in a blaze of glory and fight back to the very end? Would she kneel down and cry? Or would she bend to his demands?
She liked to imagine she was as brave as the heroine in the dramas she watched. But at the end of the day, she was just another woman afraid of death. She would do anything to live, even if it meant compromising her morals and her pride.
It was pathetic.
Amidst her regret and fear, disgust rose up within her. Elena clenched her fist and closed her eyes.
It hurt. There was that painful, shameful feeling again.
Of looking at yourself — raw and naked. The lies and self-delusions all sliced away. Revealing the reality that she was lacking in every way.
'Then again,' Elena thought in a cynical attempt to comfort herself, 'what were morals and pride when you were dead? Could you eat it?'
His finger tightened on the trigger.
'No one's going to save me,' she thought bitterly, over and over like a mantra. She tried to drown out the desperate voice inside her screaming, 'someone save me! Anyone!'
Because no one was going to save her.
Yet, Elena couldn't help but hope that she'd get lucky again.
'One more time,' her heart begged. 'Just give me one more miracle.'
The gun moved and Elena shut her eyes instinctively, waiting for the bullet that never came. Cautiously, she opened her eyes.
The man had reached into his pocket.
Elena tensed. What could be inside? Some torture instrument? A knife? Perhaps he wanted to see her suffer before she died. She shivered. But at least it meant that he would keep her alive a little longer, even if she would be tortured.
The man took out a piece of candy. He leisurely opened the wrapper and popped it in his mouth.
Her heart nearly stopped from the abrupt decrease in tension. Elena exhaled and tried to even her breathing.
He was distracted now. This was her chance. Her heart raced.
She knew she was going to die. And as a petty and spiteful person, Elena wanted to get some form of revenge on him before he blew out her brains. She wanted to bite down on his exposed ankle like a rabid dog until it bled red. She wanted to claw out his eyes or insult him until he decided to throttle her to death in a murderous rage.
But. She wasn't brave enough to do that. To try for some last stand, or petty revenge no matter how much she wanted to.
Elena really hated herself.
"An ally has been slain!"
'Fuck this,' Elena cursed in her mind. Despite her attempts to stop it, tears of frustration pooled in her eyes. She was frozen in fear and all she could do was hope that maybe he would spare her; maybe a good Samaritan or the police would come to save her. But if she fought back against him, he'd kill her instantly and that hope would disappear.
Elena just wanted to live.
She didn't want to be brave.
She wanted to live.
A choking sound disrupted the silent restaurant. Elena glanced up, and through her tears, she saw the blurry figure of the man clutching his throat.
The gun clattered to the ground as he used his hand to put two fingers inside his throat, trying desperately to dislodge whatever was choking him.
She stared at him, stunned. Then she realised that he had choked on the piece of candy.
Suddenly, her body felt light. Joy flooded her heart and she nearly wept in relief. She was still lucky after all.
"H-help," he wheezed. The bodyguards gathered around him, all of them looking lost and anxious.
"Boss!"
"Mr Lavazza!"
"Who knows first aid?"
One of them rushed out the door and shouted at the street, "DOCTOR! Is anyone here a doctor?"
None of them was looking at her.
Elena's gaze shifted to the fallen gun.
Just a moment ago, she had been the one on the verge of death, and he had held all the power.
Now, he was at her mercy.