The moment the Runorata Family entered the lobby, as if on cue, all the other mafiosi went dead silent. Those who belonged to small outfits scurried out of the way, while those whose organizations were powerful enough to rival the Runoratas watched them like raptors. They were sizing them up carefully, weighing whether they were “prey” or “enemies.”
However, there were a few anomalies among the mobsters.
Even though their force was smaller than any other group there, the members of the Gandor Family stood in front of the Runorata group and blocked their way.
Most of their people were underground, setting up their room; only the three bosses, Maria, and Tick were in the lobby. Even so, despite being outnumbered several times over, none of them seemed intimidated by the Runoratas.
“…Well, well. Thank you for your hospitality the other day.”
“No, I’m sorry we weren’t able to give you a better welcome.” As Luck returned Melvi’s polite greeting, his face was expressionless.
The redhead standing behind Melvi gave the Gandors an easygoing wave. “Hey, you three. You look rarin’ to go.”
“Aaaah! Vino— Mrglmmphmmph.”
As Maria began to scream the name of the legendary hitman, Tick clapped both his hands over her mouth. She kicked and struggled, but Luck ignored her and replied coolly. “Of course we are. After all, when all the gambling is said and done, there may be fewer syndicates than there were before.”
Melvi interjected with a smile. “Don’t worry. We aren’t hunting you this time.” He maintained the gentlemanly facade, ignoring his own attempt to eat Luck the other day.
“A hunt, is it? I don’t know which organization you’re after, but it would be wiser not to assume the hunt will be one-sided.”
“No, no. Mafia syndicates are always preying on one another,” Melvi replied sardonically.
As Luck watched him, he was increasingly certain that the man wasn’t a member of the Runorata Family. No made man would carry himself with such contempt for their entire trade.
Melvi’s behavior wasn’t self-deprecation. He was sneering at people he considered different from himself.
“You’re the same as the Martillos. Just pray that your turn as our quarry won’t be for a while.”
“What the hell was that, you dirty sonuva—?” Veins bulging, Berga took a step toward Melvi.
An eruption was imminent.
All the mafiosi in the lobby saw a bloodbath in the immediate future—that, or a one-sided massacre of the Gandor Family by the Runoratas—and the tension was thick enough to taste.
But then—
—a voice spoke from behind the Runorata group, tangling those threads of tension into an even more complicated knot. “Forget it, Berga. Don’t waste a punch on that guy.”
“Huh?”
At the sound of a familiar voice, Berga stopped moving, and all the mafiosi turned to look at the speaker.
He was with a group that had come in after the Runoratas. There were about ten of them, a relatively awkward number to travel with but small compared with the Runorata delegation.
The young man at the front of that group pushed up the brim of his hat slightly. “I’ve got plenty I’d like to say to you, but I’ll stick to making one correction.” He gave Melvi an intrepid smile. “We’re not mafia. We’re Camorra.”
“Well, look who’s here. Welcome, Firo Prochainezo.”
It was Firo and the Martillo Family entourage. Being from an outfit as small as the Gandor Family, they were a somewhat confusing presence; the surrounding mafiosi wondered what syndicate they were even from.
But without any information, they knew one thing for sure: Neither the Gandor Family nor this group of self-proclaimed Camorra was the least bit cowed by the Runoratas.
“You seem quite confident.”
“You shouldn’t be gambling at all if you’re not confident, wouldn’t you say?” Firo shrugged. His voice held none of the fury he’d shown when Ennis was kidnapped.
✦ ✦ ✦
He’s oddly calm.
Melvi didn’t like this cool, casual Firo.
He can’t have given up on Ennis, can he?
This was his first guess, because it’s what he would have done in Firo’s shoes.
When Firo spoke again, though, he still had that assertive smile on his face. “I’m lookin’ forward to our gamble.”
“…Are you really? You can’t actually think you’ll win.”
“It’s not a gamble if there’s no chance of winning, right?”
“Yes, but fools never do.”
Threads of tension raced through the crowd, with Melvi and Firo as their focus.
Even people who knew nothing about the situation could tell from a glance at those two—one of them was destined to lose everything in the next few days.
The room froze again, and the three syndicates—Martillos, Runoratas, and Gandors—did not seem likely to back down anytime soon.
✦ ✦ ✦
Then that atmosphere was instantly shattered.
“Hi there, Firo! Thank you so much for coming!”
A child’s voice, innocent but intelligent, echoed in the lobby.
Bartolo Runorata’s grandson Carzelio had come down the red-carpeted stairs.
“You remembered my name. I’m honored,” Firo said politely.
Cazze’s eyes were shining. “I’ll show you around. This way, please!”
His words sent a quiet stir through the crowd.
“Hey, ain’t that Mr. Bartolo’s grandkid?”
“So those guys are a big enough deal to get a personal tour?”
“They said they were Camorra…”
“I know ’em. That’s the Martillo Family.”
“That dinky little outfit? Ain’t they as small as the Gandors’?”
“What’s going on here?”
“I hear their capo Ronny is real bad news.”
✦ ✦ ✦
As a hubbub of questions and rumors rose around them, Firo and his crew started after Cazze.
Randy, Pezzo, and Maiza were in the group, but they seemed to be following Firo’s lead. They made their exit quietly, without any unnecessary comments.
Even Maiza only glanced at Melvi. He didn’t say a word, even though the man had the same face as his little brother.
…Interesting. So he’s keeping his personal feelings out of this?
Melvi had picked up on the Martillos’ resolution to some degree, and he murmured to Firo as he walked past. “…We’ll settle this on day three.”
“All right, then. I’ll be looking forward to that.”
“Make the most of your last two days with your family,” Melvi sneered, trying to rile him up—
—but Firo responded in a voice like a knife blade, one that held no emotion at all.
“You took this a little too far.”
✦ ✦ ✦
That was all he said.
He didn’t mention any specific punishment or threat of death.
But that voice was all it took.
He’d spoken softly enough that no one else caught the words, but when Melvi heard them, his right hand shot out as if it were spring-loaded. Fear had suddenly exploded deep inside him, and his body had reacted before he could think.
You’re going to die.
Kill him before he kills you.
Melvi’s instincts drove him to act on reflex.
The immortal’s right hand shot out for Firo’s head at an incredible speed.
Just before it got there, though…
…with the same unnatural speed, Firo’s own right hand intercepted Melvi’s.
“……!”
After capturing Melvi’s hand, Firo shook it lightly.