In the garden of an old mansion built from dark wood, a middle-aged man sipped his tea. This man was Don Enzo Moretti. The air was mildly windy, and the silence of the garden was filled with the distant sounds of birds. A man dressed in black approached with heavy steps, bowed before Enzo, and stood motionless.
Enzo's eyes shifted toward the man.
"What is it?"
The man hesitated slightly as he lifted his head. "Don enzo, a letter has arrived."
Enzo slowly set his tea down on the table. "What does it say?"
The man hesitated for a moment. His hands were clenched, and his eyes were fixed on the ground.
"Don…"
Enzo's eyes narrowed. His voice grew sharper.
"Well? What are you waiting for? Speak! What does it say?"
The man swallowed with difficulty.
"don... It states that we owe one million coins to a private slave sector."
