It was late in the evening when Alessio arrived in Rome. The city, with its crumbling ruins and endless streets, had a quiet that felt unnatural, as if something were waiting. He wasn't a tourist; he'd been here many times before. He came for business, but this time, he couldn't shake the feeling that something had changed. The pride he'd felt years ago when he'd first conquered the city's labyrinthine alleys had faded into something else. It had become a heavy weight, something suffocating. He could almost feel the eyes of the past watching him as he walked through the empty streets.
Alessio had always prided himself on his success—his ability to survive, to climb, to outlast. The world, to him, was a game of power. If you could take what you wanted, you could have it all. The men and women who'd tried to stop him, those who told him to be humble, they had all faded into dust. None of them mattered. He was the best, and he knew it.
The city felt different now, though. There was an oppressive air hanging over it, as if something was waiting, lurking just out of sight. He dismissed it. He had no time for superstition. But something followed him in the narrow alleys between ancient stone buildings. It was an unsettling presence that clung to him like the smell of damp earth, something invisible, yet always there, lurking just behind him.
When he'd checked into his hotel, the receptionist—a young woman with wide eyes—had said nothing, but he noticed her fingers trembled as she handed him his key. It was a strange reaction, but Alessio had paid it no mind. She was probably just nervous, like most people in the service industry. Yet, her unease stuck with him, gnawing at the edges of his thoughts.
It was the first night when Alessio noticed the silence. Rome wasn't supposed to be this quiet. It wasn't supposed to feel so abandoned. The streets, which should have been bustling with life, were empty. No voices floated from windows, no tourists argued over the price of a souvenir. The only sound was the shuffle of his own shoes on the stone pavement. The stillness began to bother him more than he expected.
He took a turn down an alley near the Pantheon, a place he knew well. The grand building loomed ahead, its ancient columns reaching into the sky, a testament to Roman might. But now, under the eerie moonlight, it looked less like a monument and more like a tombstone. It was as if the city's history had come alive, and it wasn't happy.
That's when he saw her.
A woman stood at the far end of the alley. At first, he thought she was just another lost tourist, but as he walked closer, he noticed something strange. Her skin was unnaturally pale, and her dark hair hung in matted clumps around her face. Her clothes were torn, like she had been wandering for days. But it wasn't her appearance that unnerved him—it was the look in her eyes.
Her gaze was cold, piercing, as if she could see right through him. Alessio stopped dead in his tracks, instinctively sensing danger. But instead of retreating, he found himself stepping closer, drawn to her as if by some magnetic force.
"You're not from here," she said, her voice barely above a murmur.
Alessio paused. "No. I've been to Rome before, though."
She tilted her head. "It's not the same, is it?"
"No," he muttered, uncomfortable under her gaze. "It's... quieter than I remember."
Her lips curled into a slight smile. "Yes. Quieter. But only for those who deserve to hear it." She took a step forward, the moonlight illuminating her face. "There are those who come here thinking they can conquer, who think pride is their birthright. But Rome has its own way of dealing with such things."
The words chilled him. Something in her tone struck a nerve, but he ignored the flutter of unease in his chest. He didn't believe in superstition, not in this age. "And what does Rome do?" he asked, trying to sound confident.
"Rome does not forgive pride," she replied softly, stepping closer.
Before he could say another word, she was gone, vanishing into the night as if she had never been there at all.
Alessio stood frozen in place, heart pounding. He didn't understand what had just happened, but his skin prickled with a sense of foreboding. There was something in the air tonight, something suffocating, like a storm waiting to break.
He brushed it off, turning back toward his hotel. It was nothing more than a strange encounter with a strange woman. Nothing to worry about. Yet, the unease lingered, heavy like a dark cloud.
------
The next day, Alessio heard the news.
Two tourists had been found dead near the Colosseum. Their bodies were mangled, their faces twisted in expressions of horror. No one could explain it. The police claimed it was an act of violence—an attack—but there were no signs of a struggle, no clues as to who had committed the crime.
The air grew thick with rumors. Some claimed it was a gang-related hit. Others whispered of a curse that had come back to haunt the city. Alessio wasn't interested in idle gossip, but the stories stuck in his mind as he walked the streets, haunted by the image of the woman's eyes.
------
Days passed, and the unease only grew. More deaths followed. Businessmen, tourists, locals—one by one, they were found in similar states. It wasn't just the manner of death that unsettled Alessio. It was the look on their faces. Each victim wore a mask of utter terror, as if they had been caught in something far worse than death itself. Their eyes seemed to scream something unspeakable, something beyond the comprehension of the living.
One evening, while walking back to his hotel, Alessio saw her again. The woman was standing in the same alley where he had first encountered her, waiting. This time, he didn't hesitate. He approached her, feeling a strange compulsion to confront her.
"You," he said, his voice hoarse. "What's happening here? What is this?"
She didn't answer right away. Instead, she regarded him with those cold, unfeeling eyes. "You still don't understand, do you?" Her voice was low, like a fading echo.
"I don't know what's going on, but I can stop it," Alessio said, the words tumbling out of him before he could think them through. His pride surged, as it always did. He could fix this. He always fixed things. "Tell me what you know. I'll make this go away."
The woman shook her head slowly. "It's too late for you. Pride never forgets."
"Pride?" he scoffed. "I've earned everything I have. This city, this place, I made it mine."
She stepped closer, her expression unreadable. "That's what they all say. That's what they always say."
Suddenly, she lunged at him, her hands gripping his throat with the strength of something far beyond mortal power. His body froze in terror as her touch sent a coldness through him, one that didn't feel like it was from this world. He struggled, trying to break free, but her grip was ironclad, her strength far greater than anything he'd ever known. His pride crumbled in the face of her power, the walls he'd built around himself shattered. He was nothing. Weak. Helpless.
The city's cold breath seemed to tighten around him, and he gasped for air, his vision blurring as she squeezed tighter. He could feel the darkness closing in, a suffocating weight pressing on his chest. He had no control, no strength. His pride had led him here, and now it was the cause of his undoing.
"You're just like the rest," she said, her voice now distant. "You all think you're above it. Above everyone else. Above me. Above Rome."
His throat burned, and for a moment, he saw her face—its cruel, hollow expression—and the terrible truth crashed into him. He wasn't just facing death. He was facing his own pride's punishment. In his arrogance, in his belief that he was untouchable, he had sealed his own fate.
With one final squeeze, his vision went black.
------
The next morning, they found Alessio's body. The police were baffled, but the city had already forgotten his name. His pride had led him to the end, just like all the others. There were no cries of injustice, no grand memorials. In Rome, pride never lasted. It consumed you, and when it did, it left nothing behind.
And in the shadows of the city, the woman watched, waiting for the next.