Although Vesper may have looked like a handsome fool, he was right, and he was slowly unraveling Miss Mort without even realizing it.
"I wouldn't be the daughter of a mafia boss if I couldn't handle something. And even these documents, which are my work, are already in my hands," she retorted.
"That's just a facade. You weren't like this that night," Vesper countered.
"Vesper, be realistic. A few words won't change anything," she replied dismissively.
"It's not the same for me. Look." Vesper walked up to the window and, in one swift motion, pulled back the curtain, pointing at the buildings in the distance. "After our talk, I decided to stand up to my father, and he told me, his own son, right to my face that he was using me for his purposes."
Curiosity got the better of her. "How did you react?" she asked, studying Vesper closely.
"I laughed and left. But I didn't want to say in advance that he would regret it because that would raise suspicion," he confessed.
"Suspicion of what?" Deimy inquired, puzzled. Vesper glanced at his watch and snapped his fingers.
"Suspicion of this." Simultaneously, a couple of buildings exploded, their debris soaring into the sky, illuminating it. A rumble echoed through the streets, and in some buildings, lights flickered. These were VandS companies, businesses owned by Senior Vesper. And they all went up in flames. The man probably doesn't even suspect that his own son is orchestrating his downfall.
"Wow, what a spectacle," Deimy mused, clapping her hands and turning her gaze to the orchestrator of this show. "And is this your goal?"
"Just to cause some chaos there. Let it hurt a little," he explained.
It was revenge. Deimy always enjoyed watching the process of revenge. It was intriguing and cruel. But when it was done in a fit of anger, the show ended too quickly. And you couldn't savor the process. Mafia loved to savor revenge like melted cheese but also to finish it quickly and clean up the evidence.
"Do you not realize that this could harm your father's business, and later his reputation? And your status?" she asked, watching the fire slowly spread to other buildings.
"I don't care. I have my reputation outside of school," he responded, surprising Deimy, who couldn't quite comprehend.
"Haven't you ever heard the phrase 'Younger Vesper with his gang'?" he questioned.
"And who are you outside of school? Not a king anymore?" Deimy inquired.
"I'm the one who can please the mafia princess not with a beautiful starry sky, but with a burning city," Vesper dodged her question. "I want you to trust me. You could rely on me, and together we could solidify your Mort empire."
"Why are you so eager for this?" she asked, scrutinizing him.
"I want to be a part of something," he replied. "And establish my own status."
"You know you won't gain trust that easily, especially considering how our acquaintance started," she warned.
"Yes, I was foolish, I know," the brunette admitted. "Let's start with simple friendship and see where it goes." He extended his hand for a handshake, and Deimy hesitated before accepting it.
"You know you'll die if you betray me or anything like that," she cautioned.
"Of course, I had no intention of doing that," Vesper assured her.
"Fine," the brunette huffed and shook his hand. But Vesper quickly pulled her hand toward him and lifted it to his lips, leaving a gentle kiss on her tanned skin.
"What was that for?" she asked, surprised.
"Just a display of courtesy. Relax," he chuckled and released her hand.
"Now, let's get to your relationship with the director," she changed the subject.
"I've had ties with him since childhood. My father has a strong friendship with this director. Almost too strong," Vesper began. "My father helped to preserve this school, all while developing his wine company. So, it just happened that they became friends. At first, I was an object of lust for the director, then a reason for his visits, and later, a young advisor. How should I put it? Our director doesn't have the most conventional orientation."
"Are you trying to say he's a pedophile?" Deimy inquired bluntly.
The same one. Did his wife suspect something and hire you? She probably caught on to his affairs," Ms. Mort speculated. "And do you really think you can just give me the documents so easily? There must be a catch."
"To be honest, I don't like it either, so you can take them," the girl huffed and headed for the door. "I've settled my debt, now let's compromise."
Suddenly, the door clicked shut. Someone had locked them in. Deimy mentally cursed. She had lost her vigilance for the second time.
"What now?" she asked.
"I gave you the documents, now it's up to you to get them out," Vesper said. "Don't bother with the windows; you'll break them. The roof is sealed too if you're thinking of climbing up with a ladder. Trying to break down the door is not advisable either; the director will notice someone was here. And the video recording in my hands will prove it."
"He's toying with me like a cat with a mouse," Mafia thought feverishly.
"That's your owl," Deimy smirked.
"Bingo, Mafia princess, you got it! The one and only camera that can't be hacked or smashed. It's deactivated by a secret code," Marcelo boasted.
"So, what are you doing!?" he suddenly yelled.
A crash and rumble echoed from the director's office. On the floor lay a shattered owl statuette, next to it, a partially destroyed camera flashing and sparking. Not far from them was an iron, razor-sharp knife weighing five kilograms, its blade thinly sharpened and quickly embedded in a small object.
"I still have a copy," the brunette warned.
"Enough with the games, Vesper, what do you want? Speak plainly," Deimy demanded.
"It sounds ridiculous, but I want to be friends. I want you to help me in various situations, talk to me, or pretend to be someone for me. Depending on the situation. I want us to cooperate."
"Do you really think I'll..."
"I got carried away. I apologize."
"You understand that I can't just come running to you every time you need something. I have friends, family, a team. You understand that, right?"
"I understand. I get it all," the brunette mumbled, fidgeting with his fingers. Deimy took a few steps towards the door and hissed,
"And never pull something like this again! If you need help, just ask, in return for assistance with the documents. Got it?"
"Of course."
"Delete the recording from the cameras."
"Already done."
"And also, don't let the director get in your way or touch you," Mafia ordered, adding, "Since you're planning on becoming a part of us, be one of us."
"As you wish, Mafia Princess."
"Stop calling me that."
"Oh, it's become a habit, can't help it," young Vesper chuckled.
Deimy wearily rubbed her forehead. Too many people in one day. Too much information for her to process alone. She needed some rest.
"Then, until tomorrow. I need to rest and think about what to do with you," the girl approached the door, and it opened by itself.
"Should I escort you?"
"I'll kill you if you dare."
"Then you'll really have to kill me," boyish banter sounded near her ear. The brunette appeared beside her and offered his hand, but one look was enough for her to convey her thoughts. He withdrew his hand, undeterred. He walked ahead to clear a path through the students.
"Should I trust him?" Mafia thought as she watched Vesper walk a few meters ahead, then turn to wait for her.