I fell silent, observing her closely.
"Deimi, I'm not some object."
"I couldn't care less, you know. In the mafia world, they often choose their playthings. Back in the day, it was lovers for the nobility during medieval times. Nowadays, they're just additional distractions."
"You find it amusing, huh? How could you possibly consider me your plaything? "I burst into laughter, finding it hard to believe what she was saying. Why are you doing this?
"Explaining it all would take too long." She waved her hand dismissively.
"And what if I want to decline?"
"Then decline." Deimi smiled slyly." But just know that someone from your family will die."
I paused for a moment, then reluctantly put on the ring.
"Well done. "Her tone turned unnaturally cold and rigid. "What happened to everything? Was this some sort of reality's cobweb?"
Deimi casually fixed her hair and chuckled.
"Oh, Carner, you should've seen your expression." I locked eyes with her. "You actually bought into all that? And even if I were to choose someone as a plaything, it would be a tall brunet with a model face and the build of a Greek god."
"But the mark..."
"You're right, the rings are my trademark, but the rings I use to mark my victims look different. Although you wouldn't know that. By the way..." She extended her hand towards me. "Have you ever seen a killer wearing their own mark? They probably wouldn't willingly pass it on to someone else."
"But why? What's the real reason?"
"Because when I walked in here, I happened to notice a guy who resembled a ray of sunshine. Also, you reminded me of a boy who once handed me a pen. "Suddenly, she reached for her tangled hair and playfully tousled it. "You know, Carner, you look like a golden retriever."
I felt my cheeks flush. Strangely enough, I was feeling quite embarrassed. I couldn't hold back and turned my gaze away. Perhaps the most embarrassing part was that her hand was still in my hair. And she was genuinely smiling at me. I let out a small laugh, and the brunette knowingly withdrew her hand. I took a step back. But at that exact moment, something almost happened! Deliberately! Charlie somehow failed to properly position a chair, which I tripped over. I felt myself falling, and the floor was coming closer.
Suddenly, the mafia girl grabbed my hand, preventing me from hitting the ground. As I regained my footing, she brought her hand to her face and said with a nonchalant smile,
"You're quite clumsy." I blushed again."What was wrong with me? Why did I feel like a little, bashful girl in these moments?
"Are you turning red? Do you have a fever?" She inquired, looking directly into my eyes.
"No, I'm fine, I hurriedly replied and grabbed my bag. "I gave her a wave as a sign of farewell and hastily left the classroom, leaving the brunette behind.
As I stepped out onto the courtyard, I almost collided with Grace, who was standing there.
"What took you so long? "He asked, sounding somewhat annoyed.
"And why aren't you at home?" I raised an eyebrow." You said you were going to leave."
"I thought I would, but I decided to wait for you, to see if you'd come out in one piece. And besides... wait, why are you so red?"
* * *
Many seasoned mafia bosses used to say that life is fleeting and should be lived without regrets. Do whatever you want, create memories. I have plenty of memories, but not all of them are positive. I won't complain, nor will I claim that my life was excessively tough. All the wonderful memories are intertwined with my team and friends - the Young Mafia. I can't disappoint them. That's why I'm here now, at this hour. It's nighttime, yet I'm at school. If someone thought I had a falling-out with my brother, I'd say "no." I'm not Julian; I don't particularly want to spend the night at school, but I need to verify something and commit the layout of the school to memory to justify my plan. And to make sure everything is executed perfectly. Everything always has to be perfect and meticulously thought through for me.
Luckily, my friend managed to hack the security cameras, making my movement far more interesting and convenient. If one of the guards could spot me, they'd probably have a heart attack. The sight of a tangible shadow is terrifying for those who fear the darkness. My attire was entirely black, even the eye mask, which was utterly futile. (This is far from amusing and it's a rather foolish idea from Rebecca! May the devils take it!)
I glanced at the clock; it was snack time. My gaze appeared in the window, a couple of guys heading toward the booth where others welcomed them. I was about to make my move, but then, another figure caught my attention. It was a male figure who approached the guards, took something from them, and led them away somewhere. That could have piqued my interest, but no, I had something else to investigate. I headed to the basement, which was located below ground level. And speaking of which, there was a rather pleasant smell in the air. Or maybe I was just hungry?
After a few steps, I scanned my surroundings. It was much more than a regular basement: wine barrels, enormous refrigerators loaded with food, and cabinets stocked with fruit. The room was dimly lit, with only two light bulbs left on. I turned my gaze to the left and noticed a door labeled "Archive." Making a few strategic movements with my knife, I found myself inside.
As usual, metal cabinets and a multitude of folders.
"He wouldn't hide such valuable documents here," I mused, sifting through folders. In truth, there was nothing intriguing here. I still needed to inspect his office and the rooftop, just in case an alternate escape route became necessary. "He wouldn't store documents in the house, fearing his wife might appropriate them..."
Within a few minutes, I found myself navigating through corridors. I could have simply headed for the office, but the owl camera's memory jogged my mind. I briskly ascended to the rooftop. Traversing dim hallways wasn't exactly fun or amusing. I'm not the type to shy away from darkness. Not at all. Yet, I sensed a certain unease. Perhaps my imagination was projecting what shouldn't be there, and I envisioned it—blood. Everywhere. When I had the "Mortis Gaze" at my disposal, I responded to that crimson fluid with indifference and coldness. But right now, it sent shivers down my spine. It wasn't fear. Rather, due to that trauma, I couldn't endure the combination of darkness and the scent of blood.
Suddenly, a sharp pain pierced my right wrist. I clutched it and gazed skyward, inhaling the cool night air deeply. And then, a presence registered. Concealed behind a lofty chimney, I held my breath. Silence pervaded the surroundings. This was unexpected. But abruptly, amidst the quietude, angry exclamations ruptured the stillness.
"So, this is how you treat me! The family's pride, isn't that right, dad?! All these years, I executed what you desired! I envisioned the future you wished for me! I toiled devotedly on your concepts. I exerted myself... I genuinely strove to be your source of pride. But what did it amount to..." Accompanying these words were sobs—painful, convulsive. And now... I'm alone, truly on my own!
I peered out and confronted a heartrending tableau. This individual... was inflicting harm upon themselves. They were carving deep lacerations onto their arms. It brought to mind young Daniel, who used to do the same until I intervened. Yet, this was entirely disparate; it was a fusion of disillusionment and agony. Blood oozed from their hands, droplets staining the gray pavement. I clenched my teeth and shut my eyes, pressing my body against the chill of the brick wall. Disturbing images kept replaying in my thoughts: individuals being asphyxiated, women being violated, or a man being struck by a vehicle. No-no-no, I implore you! Cease this! Please! I'm suffocating.
"Enough, desist! I bellowed, emerging from my covert position. "The silhouette froze, their gaze locked onto me." I command you to relinquish the knife forthwith! "My tone transformed into a roar. The person removed their hood, and I beheld...