“If you change your mind, just say the word. I’ll gladly lock you up.”

 

“…”

 

As expected, he’s wholly different from Silvano.

 

His attitude of cleanly respecting her wishes was impeccable manners, without fault… but just for today, she wished he would cling to her stubbornly like that leech of a man.

 

After exhaling cigarette smoke several times, Liliana finally let out a voice so small it was barely audible.

 

“…Stay with me today.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“…Tomorrow too.”

 

“Okay.”

 

He didn’t even ask why she suddenly changed her mind, didn’t even give that characteristic smirk of his.

 

At his extremely plain response, she felt strangely embarrassed for no reason.

 

“It’s, it’s not like I changed my mind because of something else… And it’s not like I’m saying I want to… do that kind of thing with you. I just… feel a little down right now…”

 

She added it like an excuse, but it was the truth.

 

Right about now, the hitmen, including Silvano, would be going over the plan one last time.

 

Tomorrow, that covert scheme would finally rise to the surface, and regardless of where one went, the only thing people would be talking about would be Findel.

 

She thought she had steeled her heart.

 

She was even proud of herself, believing that once she made up her mind, she wouldn’t waver.

 

But now that the great deed was right in front of her, memories of the past kept rising uncontrollably, and she couldn’t calm the anxious, fearful feelings.

 

“Today and tomorrow… I just don’t want to be alone—”

 

“I’ll stay with you. I wasn’t planning on leaving you alone anyway.”

 

“Ah…”

 

A calm, almost indifferent voice.

 

A faint trace of a smile was visible in his lazily drooping eyes.

 

Liliana couldn’t keep looking at him any longer and hurriedly lowered her gaze.

 

In the eyes fixed on the floor, every emotion was swirling together. 

 

She could never bring herself to tell this man—who had once been her light—about this wicked deed she was about to commit, and she didn’t even expect him to understand.

 

And yet, the very person who had been the greatest stain on her life… was now the only one who could offer her a place to lean on.

 

The irony of it all made her mind tangle chaotically.

 

Who could possibly understand this feeling—too bitter to laugh at having someone to rely on, yet too painful to cry about it either?

 

💫

 

At that very moment, Liliana reached out her hand toward her darkness.

 

In some back alley of Demercy, her light was being brutally trampled and fading away.

 

“Ugh…! W-wait… aagh!”

 

A rough kick flew toward Wayne’s side.

 

Struck squarely by the boot, Wayne clutched his abdomen and rolled across the ground.

 

Groaning in pain, he already looked completely beaten beyond recognition. 

 

Black footprints were stamped here and there across his cream-colored jacket, and his handsome face was swollen bright red from being punched repeatedly.

 

“Why, what the hell… Ack!”

 

Wayne gasped for air once again as a merciless hand grabbed him by the collar and yanked him up.

 

The man who had slammed him against the wall whispered in a sinister voice.

 

“I heard you’re not from around here… Either quietly go back to your hometown or head over to the next neighborhood and teach the ladies how to dance. Don’t even think about staying in Deme.”

 

“Why… khk, what did I even do wrong—”

 

“Too much talking, this bastard…”

 

The man drove his fist straight into Wayne’s solar plexus.

 

“Ugh! Aghk…”

 

“Get the hint already… huh?”

 

After slapping Wayne across the face several more times with an open palm, the man left the alley together with his crew.

 

Left alone, Wayne powerlessly sank among the pile of trash, brushing back his disheveled hair with a trembling hand.

 

“Haa… haa…”

 

His entire body throbbed from the beating.

 

Feeling something running from his nose, he wiped under it with the back of his hand—bright red blood stained his skin.

 

Looked like he’d been hit properly.

 

Wayne let out a hollow laugh and leaned his back against the wall.

 

How long had it been since he last took a beating like this without even resisting?

 

He could have subdued them anytime he wanted. He was a thoroughly trained FBI agent, after all, and his opponents were nothing more than street thugs.

 

Nevertheless, the reason he hadn’t confronted them was because they were faces he already knew all too well.

 

‘So they were John Bruno’s lackeys, huh.’

 

His memory was probably correct. He didn’t know the faces of every single soldato (action member), but he faintly remembered seeing them on the day he had class with Anna Bruno.

 

Wayne let out a low groan, his closed eyes narrowing. 

 

Should he call this misfortune? Or should he call it fortunate?

 

Thinking back on the threatening words they had spat at him, it was clear they had no idea he belonged to the FBI.

 

‘Probably… getting close to Liliana ended up being the problem.’

 

Wayne gently bit down on his tightly pressed lips. 

 

Why was that?

 

He knew that Liliana was pretending to be Theodoro’s lover, but wasn’t that exactly what it was—just a pretend role?

 

Wayne had never openly gone on dates with Liliana in public either; all he did was make contact through lessons.

 

And yet, just because of that, they sent their organization members to warn him to leave Demercy? Why?

 

‘Is it possible… that it’s not just an act? That there are real feelings involved?’

 

Otherwise, there was no way they would come at him this aggressively.

 

His thoughts flowed and drifted… and suddenly, the scene of Liliana hurriedly avoiding his kiss flashed through his mind.

 

The moment her face was filled with embarrassment overlapped with his current suspicion, and Wayne’s expression crumpled violently.

 

‘No, no… that can’t be.’

 

He shook his head, trying to shake off the uneasy premonition.

 

But the thought that had already taken root in his mind refused to leave, and his golden eyes, staring down at the floor, surged wildly like a wheat field swept by autumn wind.

 

What if the two of them had actually connected hearts?

 

If that were true… then what should he do? What could Wayne even do?

 

He absolutely could not let the Benedetti brothers, whose necks had seemed within reach just moments ago, slip away like this.

 

“…Damn it.”

 

Wayne muttered curses under his breath as he pushed himself up. Every joint of the hand gripping the wall was tense with strain.

 

Until he found a way, even meeting Liliana alone would be difficult.

 

And what if, in the time he couldn’t see her, the two of them grew even closer?

 

But the very next day.

 

Breaking news came that President Raymond Findel, who had been visiting Camptency, was shot during a cigar parade, and the entire country—inside and out—as well as the FBI itself, was thrown into chaos.

 

Swamped with the investigation and with no time to breathe, Wayne couldn’t meet Liliana no matter how desperately he wanted to.

 

Even agonizing over ways to contact her had become pointless.

 

💫

 

— Crackle, crackle…. Bravo, this is Alpha. Report the situation. Over.

 

“Can’t you just fucking drop that shitty military radio crap?”

 

— Bravo, this is Alpha. You’re the one who needs to shut your shitty mouth. Over.

 

“This motherfucker. I’m already about to burst my bladder, don’t piss me off even more, will you?”

 

— Bravo, this is Alpha. Then piss right there. And report the situation. Over.

 

The next day, 12:25.

 

Silvano, who had been lying flat among the bushes of Trinity Knoll, twisted his face into a fierce scowl.

 

The other side was Carlo Brasco, a Benedetti organization member dispatched by Theodoro.

 

As expected from someone’s subordinate—from his supposedly god-tier shooting skills to his complete lack of manners… in any case, he was the kind of guy Silvano just couldn’t warm up to.

 

Normally he would’ve kept pouring out more vulgarities into the radio, but Silvano gave up on that too.

 

He had taken position on the ridge since 10 a.m., sniper rifle shouldered, and had been waiting ever since.

 

More than two hours without being able to take a piss—he was on the verge of losing his mind.

 

But the biggest reason above all… was that every nerve in Silvano’s body was locked onto the black vehicle visible far in the distance.

 

“Hey, you handle the radio. I need to focus now.”

 

Silvano roughly jerked his chin toward the Lombardi organization members who had been waiting with him, then pressed his eye to the scope.

 

Charles, having received the signal, spoke into his radio in a low, hushed voice.

 

“Alpha, this is Bravo One-Two. Target acquired. Making a right turn at Intersection 1. Over.”

 

— Roger that. This is Alpha. All personnel hold position. Stand by until target enters Main Street. Over.

 

Silvano let Carlo’s voice wash over him while lightly clenching and unclenching his sweat-slick palm.

 

It really wasn’t far off now.

 

The moment the parade open-top car would make an almost U-turn left at Main Street’s Intersection 2 and slow down—that would be when all three teams would take their shots from their respective positions.

 

— This is Alpha. Target has entered Main Street. All personnel prepare to fire. Over.

 

“Roger that.”

 

At the same time as Charles’s curt reply came through, Silvano’s finger found the trigger.

 

“Ah, fuck… it’s happening.”

 

He grinned wide, running his tongue along his lips.

 

The overwhelming urge to piss that had threatened to burst out earlier was gone—who knows where—and now it felt like something far more pleasurable was about to soak the front of his pants first.

 

Findel, waving to the cheering crowd.

 

That cotton-swab-sized head sitting dead center in the crosshairs would be gone in a matter of seconds.

 

When he first came back to Demer from North Wellington, he never would’ve dreamed he’d be the one putting a bullet in a president’s head.

 

Who could’ve known that the hand he grasped back in those endless, hellish fields of North Wellington was actually the hand of a goddess?

 

‘I’ve made it. I’m about to carve my name into history.’

 

He didn’t bother saying the thought out loud.

 

The ceremonial car carrying Findel had now reached Main Street’s Intersection 2, slowly turning…

 

And in this moment, even the simple act of breathing in and out would be nothing but interference for a precision shot.

 

The world beyond the reticle became blurred.

 

Everything except that circular view faded into nothingness.

 

And then, at some point, the corner of Silvano’s mouth curled into a razor-sharp smirk.

 

At the exact same instant, a flash like lightning appeared in the eyes of Carlo Brasco on the 5th floor of the Newport Building and Emmanuel Fatico on the 2nd floor of the KSD Building.

 

Bang—!

 

—12:29.

 

From three separate points surrounding Main Street, bullets were fired.

 

Straight toward the dazzling golden hair fluttering in the spring breeze.