Deimi walked confidently and coldly through the corridors, exuding authority and a regal aura. The glances thrown her way didn't escape notice. Some were offended by her demeanor, while others toyed with the idea of creating a fan club for the mafia. A polite knock on the door followed by footsteps in the office. Mrs. Mort's gaze roved the room, searching for what deserved her attention.
"Ah, Miss Deimiaro Mort. T"he director sat behind the desk, a man perhaps in his forties or even sixties, with gray hair and an elegant suit. "Please, take a seat. How can I be of assistance?"
"Do students often come here with problems? This doesn't look like the psychologist's office."
"There have been various instances, but students like you rely on actions more than words. You know, the youth."
Deimi crossed one leg over the other and began to study the room. Shelves with books? Too obvious. Paintings? Maybe, unless there was something hidden beneath them. Could it be beneath the carpets or the sofa? Possibly. Or perhaps within that owl on his desk?
"I see you're intrigued by the office."
"Yes, it's quite interesting here. A lot of different odds and ends."
"You have an interesting perspective. Judging by your texts, I believe you disdain science. You don't pay much attention to it."
"I have some issues, "the girl agreed and continued scrutinizing the room. Cameras in the corners... and one above us. Just me? There's some catch here.
"You could excel in subjects. For instance, Julian, your friend, is a very talented boy, a true pride."
"Perhaps, "the brunette whispered, looking into the owl's eyes. Ha! An old trick. Cameras in the figurine. "How skeptical are you of everyone?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, not many people nowadays install cameras in souvenirs."
"Ah, you're referring to that. Yes, times have become challenging."
"You're making it sound as if you've gained adversaries."
"I won't say. Even you, Miss Mort, come from the mafia. Your visit surprised me. I don't know what to expect from you."
"Don't expect anything. I'm not too interested in schools. And overall, why spoil relations between us? Or between you and me? "The mafia lady smirked. "Perhaps in the future, I might need your help?"
"Perhaps."
"Or perhaps you'll need ours."
"Anything is possible. Tea?"
"If you don't mind. "The mafia lady nodded. She stood up and observed the director's reaction out of the corner of her eye. I see you have a lot of books here. "Do you read them or just keep them for show?"
"I read when I have time. I used to read to my wife as well."
"Used to? Your tone suggests you're in mourning. Are you divorced?"
"She's planning it, you know. Arguments are common among couples."
"There must be a significant reason for that."
"There... you know, women are charming creatures, but sometimes quite troublesome."
The girl remained silent; that's what men with multiple partners would say. Deimi drew a conclusion and quickly calculated what she needed. She asked the director a few well-chosen, light questions and, with a ringing voice, exited the office. It was clear he said something important, and she needed to inform her team about it.
* * *
We played really well, even better than I thought. I got to know some of the guys, and they seemed decent. When we returned, I didn't see Deimi, which was odd. Mort waved his hand, saying, "She'll show up later," and took his seat. And indeed, she appeared after a few minutes. A bit angry, but composed.
The final class passed. Everyone began to disperse. Lisa approached me.
Hey, Julian. The blonde spoke to catch my attention. Would you like to go to the café with us?
"Not today." I waved my hand. Lisa seemed a bit hurt by this, and she bit her lip, taking a few steps back.
"Julian, are you even planning to go home? "Grace asked me.
"Not to... well, yes, but I still need to clean up. I stuttered a lie. "Mort chuckled and patted me on the shoulder, saying,
I" knew you were a bookworm, but calm down. You'll have time to stay overnight at school."
"That's not what I meant. "We talked a bit more, and the mafia boss's son decided to leave.
"So, see you tomorrow, or what? "Mort extended his hand and suspiciously looked at me.
He kept looking at me for about five minutes, then picked up his bag, waved, and left. I saw everyone off and closed the door after the last student. We were left alone. The mafia lady leaned against the cold wall, engrossed in her book, quickly jotting something down on a piece of paper. I bit my lip and approached her. She didn't pay attention. To get her to notice me, I slammed my hand onto her desk. Without taking her eyes off the book, she said,
"You were supposed to clean up."
"So you've been eavesdropping! "I accused.
"Ears hear, eyes see. What do you want? If nothing, don't bother."
Deimi closed her book and looked at me with curiosity.
"Alright, then. Out with it. Just talk faster; I've got plans too."
"What does "ownership" mean?"
"Didn't get it?" The mafia lady raised an eyebrow. "Carner, your vocabulary seems a bit lacking, so you're asking?"
"My vocabulary is fine! "I protested. "How can someone understand they're someone's property?"
"What?"
"Please, don't pretend you don't know! I can't stand this pretending! This ring, it's a mark. I shouted angrily. You, mafia lady, put a mark on me!"
The girl's expression darkened, and irritation quickly appeared on her face. She straightened up and looked down on me, showing that I was insignificant before her.
"Firstly, watch your tone, Carner. You should know who you're talking to. "The brunette hissed. I stayed silent. I really had lost control and lashed out at her. And secondly, what are you blabbering about?
"Did you mark me to kill me or to protect me?"
"A mark. " The mafia lady said, still not understanding. I quickly took off the ring and placed it on the desk. For a second or two, she stared at me seriously, then burst into laughter. "What mark? Haha-ha-ha-ha. I thought you were serious."
I remained quiet and looked at her. Wasn't this serious? Why was she laughing? What did she mean by what she said? From what aspect? What was funny about it?
Suddenly, the brunette stopped laughing and looked at me coldly. A shiver ran down my spine. "What was that?"
"Carner, who told you this? Was it Grace?"
"Even if it was, does that make it untrue?"
She snorted and glanced to the side.
"How did you come to the conclusion that this ring is a mark? Are you so sure about it?"
"I was told that this is a m-m..."
"And if it is? So what?" The mafia lady cut me off sharply, staring at me." And if I wanted to claim you, what then? What would you do to me?