How Lilies turn Black Chapter 41 - The Dice Thrown (2)  

Wayne draped his jacket over her shoulders despite her reluctance.  

 

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to escort you at least near your residence.”  

 

“Ah, no… That place… no.”  

 

Perhaps sensing her momentary turmoil, Wayne hesitated to press further and instead gazed into her eyes.  

 

She averted her gaze, but this time, he must have noticed her discomfort.  

 

“Understood.”  

 

The option of her residence was dismissed without a second thought.  

 

“Hmm… None of the nearby hospitals would still be open at this hour.”  

 

Wayne stroked his chin as he began considering a new plan. Her clear eyes, fixed on him, wavered restlessly.  

 

Ah… Why is someone I’ve only met in passing three times going out of his way like this?  

 

A dull ache throbbed somewhere deep inside.  

 

Lost in emotions she couldn’t define, her face twisted as if on the verge of tears.  

 

“…Excuse me.”  

 

“Yes?”  

 

She called out impulsively, but the words that should follow hadn’t yet formed. Dozens of things she needed to say, wanted to say, swirled chaotically in her mind.  

 

The most appropriate choice would have been:  

 

‘I’m fine. You don’t need to worry. It seems like you’re on your way home, so please get back safely.’  

 

That would have been the proper response for someone in her position.  

 

But Liliana was utterly exhausted, and for once, she wanted to voice what she truly desired from him.  

 

So, she said this instead, “I’d like to drink something warm.”  

 

“…Pardon?”  

 

“Together.”  

 

✨

 

At the very moment Liliana stood before the Federal Investigation Bureau building, uttering the most daring words of her life—that she wanted to share a warm drink—  

 

A meeting was being convened at the Benedetti family’s stately mansion.  

 

Luciano Benedetti sat at the head of the table, puffing on a thick cigar, surrounded by six or seven branch leaders.  

 

They stole glances at one another, gauging Luciano’s mood.  

 

With the organization’s leader yet to speak, none dared break the silence first. The room was filled with an air neither cold nor warm, but undeniably tense.  

 

Luciano Benedetti.

 

He was a man who exuded a completely different kind of intimidation compared to Theodoro.  

 

The elegant lift of a cigar. Like sipping a glass of fine wine, his manner of smoking was refined, far from crude.  

 

Even in the smallest, most trivial actions, Luciano displayed an old-world elegance that set him apart from those around him.  

 

His neatly trimmed beard. Deep, sharp eyes. And the strong, straight bridge of his nose right at the center of his face—all of it only added to his dignified aura.  

 

Could anyone even imagine such a man serving under someone else? Anyone who had seen him even once would say Luciano was born to lead the organization.  

 

And anyone who didn’t know him well would never guess that he and Theodoro were brothers…  

 

The energy the two gave off was simply that different.  

 

At any rate, both men were now seated in this meeting room.  

 

Two distinct types of pressure weighed heavily on the air, and the branch managers were likely desperate to break this unbearable silence.  

 

Fortunately, after taking a few more leisurely puffs of his cigar, Luciano finally spoke.  

 

“Theodoro, what are your plans moving forward?”  

 

Crossing one leg over the other, Theodoro replied dryly.  

 

“Do I really need to explain further? We’ve left the minor operational details to Gott, and as collaborators and overseers, we’ll keep an eye on West Peal.”  

 

“‘Collaborators’…”  

 

A faint smirk flickered across Luciano’s lips.  

 

Marco, one of the branch managers who had been observing the exchange, quickly picked up on his cue.  

 

“Collaborators? That’s just a word. The clubs handed over to Goth were the largest operations in West Peal, weren’t they? At this point, it’s as if we’ve given them the entire western district.”  

 

The battle had begun. Another branch manager, Niccolo, interjected in a calmer tone.  

 

“Is there really a need to be so negative? Agreeing to pay tribute means they’re ultimately bowing to us. It’s a stretch to say we’ve lost West Peal.”  

 

“Come on, think about it. Whether it’s tribute or not, they’re the ones running the operations now. Either way, West Peal is moving under their control—”  

 

“You’re not some fresh recruit straight out of initiation—what kind of nonsense are you spouting? The hierarchy is clear. If things start moving differently than our usual way, we can always increase the tribute or take other measures. There are plenty of actions we can take, so what’s there to worry about?”

 

This time, branch manager Claudio swiftly cut in and sneered at Niccolo.  

 

“So, I just don’t get why we’re going out of our way to make things harder. Huh? If we just leave it to our guys like we always have, things will run smoothly on their own. Why bother dragging the Goths into this… Tsk, at least they should be people we can trust if we’re gonna hand things over to them.”  

 

The words flew across the table without pause. A sharp confrontation.  

 

Already drained from this war of words, Theodoro roughly rubbed his tired face with his palm.  

 

“Hey, Claudio.”  

 

“What, what is it…?”  

 

Claudio, who had been smirking smugly just moments ago, rolled his eyes and stared at 

 

Theodoro. Since he had stayed quiet until now, Claudio gulped hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing.  

 

Amid the sudden silence, Theodoro asked in a calm tone,  

 

“What reason do you have to distrust the Goths that much? When have you ever followed my lead without question? If we’re measuring trust, there’s not much difference between you, those guys, and me.”  

 

“…”  

 

Cornered and humiliated, Claudio must have thought at that moment—*Why the hell is this snot-nosed brat suddenly barking at me?*  

 

Anyway, when it came to temper, nothing was off-limits, even to his uncle-in-law.  

 

But no matter what, the other man was the organization’s underboss, so Claudio swallowed his pride and forced a strained smile.  

 

“That’s not what I meant… It’s just that the folks from Aiken have no deep ties with us, and there are too many nasty rumors about them. Why else would they be called a pack of stra—”  

 

“Claudio. What kind of outdated nonsense is that? You, of all people, who fought in the war just twenty years ago.”  

“…”  

“You, who know exactly why the whole continent went to hell—are you still judging people by their race?”  

 

He was referring to the Second World War in the 1930s and 40s, which plunged the entire world into chaos.  

 

With no retort left, Claudio clamped his mouth shut…  

 

And, as expected, Marco—the most seasoned and quick-witted of them all—jumped in to defend him.  

 

“Don’t be too hard on him. He didn’t mean it like that. He’s just worried because the Goths have hardly ever worked with us. Right, everyone?”

 

He offered a friendly smile, but it wasn’t enough to restore the meeting’s atmosphere after the earlier tension.  

 

As a cold silence swept through the room…  

 

Branch manager Franco, who had remained quiet until now, finally mustered the courage to speak up, bolstered by Theodoro’s intervention.  

 

“Well, I think this might be a good opportunity to work with them. We can’t keep sticking only to our Pavonine circle forever. Everyone here must have thought about it at least once.”  

 

“…”  

 

“Just look at West Peal. Even before we migrated to this continent, Aiken had already established roots there… The backlash was so severe that setting up and growing our operations was full of obstacles. If we had chosen to embrace them instead, things would’ve gone much smoother.”  

 

“What do you mean, ‘embrace’? We’re not saints—what kind of talk is that? If you want to do charity, go start a foundation.”  

 

The bickering flared up again. By then, even those who had stayed silent began speaking up, their voices sharp and unrestrained.  

 

“Some level of compromise is necessary. Being too closed off won’t help anyone.”  

 

“Sure, fine. Let’s say we compromise. And then what if it all goes wrong? Since when has Theodoro ever taken an active role in business? At this rate, it’s only a matter of time before our standing crumbles—”  

 

“Everyone.”  

 

“—a matter of time before—”  

 

“Everyone. Calm down.”  

 

Finally, Consigliere Vincent del Piero had heard enough and stepped in. His voice, gentle yet firm, cut through the chaotic argument, bringing a momentary lull.  

 

Vincent glanced silently at Luciano, who had been rolling two dice in his palm without a word.  

 

“Luciano, may I speak?”  

 

“…Go ahead.”  

 

The reply was tight, as if forced through clenched teeth. It was the voice of a man who had long reached his limit but was barely holding onto his patience.  

 

The others, who had been firing off words recklessly, belatedly fell quiet and watched cautiously. But this composed elder was unfazed.  

 

“Personally, I think we should proceed as planned. It’s true that Theo hasn’t been heavily involved in business until now—but not because he couldn’t be. He simply didn’t want to. Now that he’s decided to start fresh… I believe the Goths could be good partners.”