How Lilies turn Black Chapter 57 - Tragic News of 1962

“Neat. Have you handled office work before? This isn’t the skill of someone who’s only done it once or twice.”

 

Liliana’s eyes widened at the unexpected praise.

Even that much was hard to believe coming from the meticulous Vincent…

 

“Krotzwieber Corp. here. Not a bad company. Even though most defense contractors are struggling to avoid losses, this is a decent place that doesn’t skimp on R&D investment. Good find.”

 

Liliana wasn’t sure what expression to make as she listened to his monotonous words.

This wasn’t something she’d prepared with Silvano’s help—it was entirely her own work. 

 

Was this what it felt like to have your efforts recognized?

 

It was hard to put into words. She’d assisted Wayne with countless tasks like this, but being formally acknowledged was almost a first for her.

 

Ah, this feeling…

 

But it seemed Theodoro was the type who couldn’t rest until he’d poured cold water on the moment.

 

“If you couldn’t even manage this much and still planned to stir up trouble, you’d have no conscience.”

 

“…”

 

“I’ll review it slowly, so go ahead.”

 

He jerked his chin indifferently toward the door. It was a sudden dismissal.

 

For a moment, Liliana’s head spun, her pale eyes blinking blankly. Then came another ruthless command.

 

“Liliana Moretti?”

 

“…Yes?”

 

“Get out.”

 

“…!”

 

She stiffened abruptly and hurried out the door as if fleeing.

 

BANG!

 

In her panic, she even forgot to close the door carefully.

 

At the ear-splitting noise, Vincent briefly winced before his expression smoothed over. The office fell dead silent, but the elderly man seemed just as bewildered.

 

After a long pause, Theodoro added, as if making an excuse,

 

“It’s just suspicious, that’s all.”

 

💫

 

Meanwhile, Liliana trudged out of Vincent’s office building with a dejected expression.

 

As she stepped past the threshold and scanned the parking lot ahead, she spotted a familiar car. 

 

Leaning against the vehicle, Silvano was lighting a cigarette.

 

Somehow, he noticed her even without looking up. The man, sharp as a ghost, tilted his head slightly and glanced at her over the lighter.

 

Reading her less-than-pleased expression, Silvano furrowed his brow.

 

“What’s with the long face?”

 

Walking toward him, Liliana sighed weakly.

 

“Don’t even ask. I got kicked out.”

 

“Why?”

 

“…How should I know?”

 

“What about the deal?”

 

He was asking how the business discussion had gone.

 

Since Silvano had gone out of his way to gather information, he was clearly curious too. No doubt he’d secretly hoped for good news.

 

“…Sigh.”

 

Unfortunately, all she had to offer was this helpless exhale.

 

As if that was answer enough, Silvano clicked his tongue and scowled, “That little brat, still wet behind the ears, dismissed you?”

 

“…Silvano!”

 

The man himself remained unbothered, but Liliana was the one who flinched, quickly checking their surroundings. 

 

Thankfully, no one was around. What if someone had heard?

 

Relieved by the empty lot, she patted her chest—only for Silvano to stare at her like she was being ridiculous.

 

“What, did I say something wrong?”

 

“You did.”

 

“If a brat’s a brat, what else should I call them?”

 

“…Never mind.”

 

No point arguing. What words could possibly get through that shameless face?

 

Even though she’d heard Silvano was only five or six years older than Theodoro, he acted like he was five or six years younger. 

 

And yet he had the nerve to call someone else a brat…

 

While she was lost in thought, Silvano took a cocky drag from his cigarette and grumbled.

 

“Tsk, so what did he say when he dismissed you? Hurt your pride? Said he didn’t trust you?”

 

“It wasn’t like that. Just… that it’s still too soon.”

 

“Too soon for what? Strike while the iron’s hot. Maybe I should invest in stocks while we’re at it.”

 

At his words, Liliana jolted and stared at him.

 

“What did you say?”

 

“I’m thinking of investing in a defense contractor. If that old man kicks the bucket, I’ll make some money. If not, no big deal.”

 

“…”

 

Her head, which had been turned toward Silvano, slowly drooped. Liliana stared blankly at the ground, her expression hollow.

 

If Findel is assassinated, I’ll make some money. His words stuck in her mind, refusing to fade.

 

‘To you… is the death of this country’s president nothing more than that?’

 

It was horrifying. The idea that his death could be seen as nothing but an opportunity to rake in cash—something to be grateful for. That cruel, merciless greed was utterly terrifying.

 

Then, suddenly, it struck her—she was no different.

 

What was the difference between her plan to capitalize on business opportunities after President Findel’s passing and Silvano’s talk of stock investments? 

 

If anything, the scale of her ambitions was larger, never smaller. She had no right to judge him.

 

Only now did the weight of the words she had confidently laid before Theodoro truly sink in. 

 

It felt like a massive stone had settled in her chest, and there was no taking back what she had already said.

 

Liliana lifted her head and gazed emptily at the sky.

 

How laughable. Was I still trying to play the righteous saint?

 

A bitter, self-mocking smirk twisted across her face. Her eyes lingered on the vast sky for a long moment, and before she knew it, Silvano was looking up too.

 

“What are you staring at? There’s nothing there.”

 

“…Nothing.”

 

Liliana’s hollow voice scattered meaninglessly in the wind.

 

“I just realized… I probably don’t belong in heaven.”

 

💫

 

That night, Liliana fell into a troubled sleep while recalling the televised footage of Findel’s shooting.

 

At some point, she found herself in a car.

 

As usual, she sat in the passenger seat. But in the driver’s seat—Silvano’s usual spot—her brother Angelo was performing Silvano’s role.

 

Strangely, nothing felt awkward.

 

Angelo, whom she rarely saw, was by her side as if they met daily. Him replacing Silvano, him working with her on organization business—everything flowed as naturally as water.

 

Yes, this was a dream.

 

“Angelo, are you really going through with this?”

 

“Of course I am. That’s why we’re on our way.”

 

The exchange had no context, yet Liliana knew: he intended to assassinate the president.

 

“…He can’t be the one.”

 

“Why not? When you first joined the organization, you should’ve been prepared for something like this.”

 

“This isn’t what I envisioned. Really… it wasn’t.”

 

In the dream, Liliana buried her face in her hands, her heart crumbling. She wanted to hear no more, but Angelo’s mocking laughter brushed past her ears.

 

“No choice, sis. We’re too far in to turn back now.”

 

Then, the scene abruptly shifted.

 

Liliana and Angelo stood on the fifth floor of an unfamiliar building.

 

Outside the window, Main Street was packed with an enormous crowd—people waiting for the president’s funeral procession.

 

“Angelo.”

 

Liliana, who had been staring at the view outside, turned to look beside her.

 

Angelo had positioned a sniper rifle’s barrel between the window frame and was peering through the scope.

 

“What.”

 

“…It’s about to start.”

 

“I know.”

 

Distracted by the search for the target location, his reply was half-hearted.

Liliana stared down at him blankly, lost in thought. 

 

Where is our future headed? She wondered.

 

Outside the window, the noise was as chaotic as a bustling market, yet inside the room, the atmosphere was solemn. 

 

At some point, the heat radiating from outside seemed to grow fiercer. It wasn’t just her imagination.

 

“Waaaah—!!”

 

The cheers of what must have been hundreds of people heated the air until it burned. The deafening roar felt strong enough to shake even the sturdiest of buildings.

 

“…Angelo.”

 

Unable to bear the unease, Liliana called her brother’s name again.

 

At that moment, a black convertible appeared at the far end of Main Street. She never got a response. Angelo was already preparing to take the shot, the barrel of his gun slowly tracking the target.

 

Liliana bit her lip and looked out the window. 

 

Even so, all she could see with the naked eye was a tiny black car, no bigger than a fingernail from this distance, crawling in a straight line down the road.

 

The moment Angelo would pull the trigger was when the car reached the intersection of Main Street and began to turn left.

 

Unaware of this, the motorcade rolled smoothly along, carrying the president toward his death.

 

Then came the gunshot—one that shouldn’t have been heard yet.

 

Bang—!

 

Simultaneously, the window shattered, raining shards of glass down on the two of them.

 

Liliana clutched her head and curled into herself. In that instant, she couldn’t think—only squeezed her eyes shut to shield them from the falling glass.

 

When she opened them again just seconds later, the scene before her was already in ruins.

 

“H-hng…!”

 

Transparent fragments of glass littered the floor, and Angelo lay sprawled across them, clutching his shoulder.

 

Blood splattered in patches across the ground, the bright red liquid dripping steadily from his hand.

 

Liliana realized—someone had shot Angelo before he could even take his own shot.

 

‘Ah. We’ve been found out.’