In the novel, Georgio had heard the sound of Sylas's footsteps—a sound of salvation that marked the turning point in his life.
But now, the sound echoing in Georgio's ears would be Rocco's footsteps.
Not the hope that the novel had promised him, but an irregular, self-serving variable.
Rocco felt a chill run down his spine.
He was about to derail Georgio's destined salvation for his own purposes.
The weight of that decision was terrifying, but it wasn't enough to stop him.
He had to survive, no matter what.
"Master," Ragar's voice called again, pulling Rocco from his thoughts.
As Rocco walked with his head lowered, he was suddenly brought back to reality when Ragar called out to him.
Startled, he looked up, tilting his head slightly instead of responding.
Ragar's sharp eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, and then his gaze shifted toward the shadows of a large dumpster.
Following Ragar's line of sight, Rocco's eyes widened.
There, hidden in the shadows, lay a man collapsed on the ground.
His vivid crimson hair, the same color as the blood pooling beneath him, spread like a violent halo against the dirt.
"Ragar, stand back. I'll handle this alone," Rocco instructed.
For once, Ragar hesitated before replying, "…Understood." That brief pause—so unusual for the ever-immediate responses Ragar typically gave—caught Rocco's attention.
He glanced at his stoic companion, but Ragar's expression remained as unreadable as ever.
Shaking off the momentary curiosity, Rocco turned away and began walking toward the crimson-haired figure.
Although he had managed to flee to the Senza Nome Graveyard, the man lying there knew his time was running out.
The deep wounds on his body told him as much.
Georgio the Hyena, the infamous killer who had brought despair to the slums, had already accepted the quiet inevitability of his death.
His eyes drifted shut, surrendering to the end.
Then, the sound of footsteps reached him.
From his prone position, Georgio forced his gaze upward.
In the novel, it was written like this.
"From his fleeting vision a luminous, golden-haired boy came to save him. Like an angel that was descended from heaven, his serious face is giving epitome of grace and strength."
However, what the current Georgio saw was...
"…"
"…"
Georgio's dark, abyss-like eyes met the wide, amethyst gaze of Rocco.
Small in stature, with long hair framing a face trying its hardest to appear calm, Rocco was nothing like the commanding figure Georgio would imagined.
Despite Rocco's best efforts to maintain a composed and unreadable expression, his trembling hands betrayed him.
He was standing before a notorious killer, and every fiber of his being screamed that he was terrified.
Okay, if this were the novel, Sylas would say… Rocco scrambled to recall the exact sequence of events.
His mind raced to mimic the words, gestures, and demeanor that Sylas had used in the story.
Everything now depended on convincing Georgio—one of the most dangerous forces in the novel—to become an ally, someone capable of neutralizing the enemies that stood in the way of Rocco's survival.