How Lilies turn Black Chapter 59 - Tragic News of 1962

“…Mr. Boyd.”

 

Even from a distance, I recognized him by his back.

 

Even if a hundred people were lined up with their backs turned, and I was asked to pick Wayne out among them, I could have done it.

 

So why hadn’t I recognized him in the dream? Why had I pulled the trigger without realizing it was him? Why had I only recognized him after he turned around?

 

At the sound of my voice, Wayne slowly turned around.

 

His neat face emerged through the scattering golden light. It overlapped perfectly with the scene from my dream, sending a chill down my spine.

 

A few seconds later in that dream, a bullet had pierced right through the center of his forehead.

 

But here in reality, nothing happened as he turned to look at her and then walked toward her. His smooth forehead remained unmarred, and no dark crimson stain bloomed like a blemish on his flawless skin.

 

“Have you been well?”

 

As if to assure her it had all been just a dream, he smiled gently, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

 

Yet to Liliana, this scene felt even more surreal, leaving her dazed as she muttered,

 

“I had a nightmare last night.”

 

“Hm?”

 

“I dreamed that I killed you.”

 

“…Oh dear.”

 

He seemed to hesitate over how to respond, his lips parting slightly. After a moment of thought, this was what came out:

 

“How did I die?”

 

“…You were shot.”

 

“Where?”

 

“Right in the middle of your forehead.”

 

As if her answer amused him, he let out a bright laugh.

 

“Good, that would’ve been an instant death. I’ve never been shot in the head before, so I can’t say for sure, but it sounds like a clean way to go.”

 

Should she laugh at that joke or cry?

 

The fact that he had never been shot in the head before somehow sounded melancholic, but his light, airy laughter made her let out a small chuckle despite herself.

 

With that, her heart felt a little lighter.

 

“You never reached out, so I thought the jacket you treasured was gone from my hands forever. I never expected you to contact me like this. I rushed out of the house in my excitement, but… Now that I think about it, you probably only reached out because you felt guilty about last night.”

 

His teasing words inexplicably burned her cheeks red. As if to poke fun at her further, Wayne added in a leisurely tone,

 

“You were waiting for me, weren’t you?”

 

“Ah, no! That’s not it at all…”

 

Flustered, Liliana’s eyes darted around nervously. 

 

Waiting for him? Even as a joke, the words made her ears burn.

 

Just as she turned her head to avoid Wayne’s calm yet persistent gaze—

 

“…!”

 

Across the street, she spotted a group of strangely familiar faces. Her eyes widened in surprise as she recognized them.

 

Even in the middle of a weekend afternoon, they were dressed in stiff, drab suits.

 

No wonder they looked familiar—they were Theodoro’s men, the same ones she saw almost every day at De Lucia’s bar.

 

“Uh…”

 

What should she do? Was it okay if they saw her with Wayne? What if they questioned who he was?

 

And what if Wayne saw her exchanging greetings with them?

 

She had never told him what she really did. What if he felt betrayed and decided to distance himself after finding out she was involved with the mafia?

 

“Is something wrong?”

 

Noticing her strange expression, Wayne furrowed his brow and studied her face.

 

Liliana’s eyes flickered anxiously before she steeled herself. There was no time to hesitate—she had to get out of there first.

 

“W-would you like to grab a meal?”

 

“Huh? All of a sudden?”

 

“I feel really sorry and grateful for what happened last time. I’d like to treat you to a meal.”

 

Though she blurted it out in a hurry, she meant it. After all, she had come out today intending to share a meal with him.

 

The question was how Wayne Boyd would react…

 

This sharp-witted man must have realized that her offer to treat him to a meal wasn’t the whole story. 

 

Noticing Liliana’s gaze repeatedly darting behind him, he naturally turned around.

 

“…Wait!”

 

Liliana hastily grabbed his arm and pulled him toward her.

 

“Just a moment.”

 

“…Yes?”

 

Wayne looked down at her, either puzzled or flustered. But no one was more bewildered by the situation than Liliana herself. She had wanted to invite him to a meal calmly and politely—she never imagined it would turn into something so abrupt.

 

But what could she do? Things had already come to this.

 

Clutching his arm like a doll, she led him forward.

 

“There’s a nice restaurant this way.”

 

Of course, she had no idea. But if she just kept walking, surely they’d find something.

 

And if not, she could always claim they were lost.

 

Wayne let himself be half-dragged along, his face initially filled with bewilderment.

 

Then, at some point, a faint smile began to surface. Adjusting her awkward grip on his arm, he linked it with his own instead.

 

Now effectively arm in arm, Liliana snapped her head up to stare at him. 

 

But Wayne merely curled the corners of his lips into a fresh smile.

 

“You’ll have to guide me.”

 

“Ah, uh… yes.”

 

“What’s on the menu?”

 

How would she know? Avoiding his gaze, Liliana opted for shamelessness instead.

 

“T-take a guess.”

 

“Any hints?”

 

“Hmm…”

 

Wayne watched with amusement as she racked her brain.

 

Then, seizing the moment when her attention briefly wavered, he subtly turned his head. His eyes, now starkly different from the gentle gaze he had fixed on her, scanned the street.

 

The warmth in them had vanished, replaced by a dry, detached coldness.

 

And when those eyes landed on the men in black suits—

 

A chilling glint flickered across his pupils.

 

💫

 

And so, they ended up at a shabby kebab shop.

 

Liliana couldn’t have been more mortified. She had offered to ‘treat’ him to a meal, but no matter where she looked, there was nothing but this run-down kebab place on the verge of collapse.

 

With the mindset of a gambler, she stepped inside. 

 

Maybe, just maybe, its aged and weathered appearance meant it was a long-standing hidden gem. She was staking her luck on that possibility.

 

After placing their order, Liliana glanced around the shop.

 

The interior was as grimy as the exterior—sticky tables, vegetable scraps littering the floor. It was decidedly not the ideal spot for their first meal together.

 

Fortunately, there was one decent distraction to divert Wayne’s attention: a small TV in the corner broadcasting a horse race.

 

“My brother mentioned going to the races today. I guess that’s the one on now.”

 

“Do you watch often, Ms. Moretti?”

 

“No, I’ve never really watched it—live or on TV. This is about the extent of it for me. What about you, Mr. Boyd?”

 

“I wouldn’t say I watch for fun… It’s more work-related.”

 

“Work-related?”

 

Liliana tilted her head in confusion. She didn’t recall Wayne ever being involved in anything horse racing-related.

 

“I’ve been investigating illegal gambling operations lately.”

 

“Oh…”

 

This was news to her. Of course it would be—back in 1961, Liliana and Wayne had never met.

 

At any rate, by the time they did cross paths, Wayne was no longer handling such investigations, making illegal gambling a somewhat unfamiliar topic to her.

 

With nothing else to say, she turned her attention back to the TV. The screen flashed the logo ‘Inter Press News Service’ before fading out again.

 

Watching the same broadcast, Wayne suddenly spoke up.

 

“I’m not sure how interesting this will be… but would you like to hear a surprising story I learned during the investigation?”

 

Though she didn’t know what to expect, Liliana nodded eagerly. What kind of story from an FBI agent could possibly be useless? 

 

After all, in her past life, the details of his investigations had helped her carve out her own place in the organization.

 

Seeing her bright green eyes sparkle with interest, Wayne gave a light chuckle before continuing.

 

“To bet on horse races, you naturally need to watch the races—which means you need accurate live broadcasts. Demercy has hundreds of betting shops… and every single one of them uses a wired communication service to stream the races.”

 

He pointed at the TV as he spoke.

 

“That ‘Inter Press News Service’ you see there is one of the leading companies providing that service. They’re the ones broadcasting these live horse races.”

 

“That sounds like a very close partnership. Between the betting shops and the communication service company, I mean.”

 

“Exactly. The betting shops need the live broadcasts, and the communication service needs shops that will use them.”

 

So far, nothing particularly surprising. 

 

Anyone who thought about it could have figured that much out.

 

But clearly, that had just been the introduction. Wayne leaned in slightly, lowering his voice as he continued.

 

“However, the ones maintaining an even closer partnership with Inter Press News Service… are the Demercy mafia—specifically, the Corella family.”