Alessio Leone's Perspective
I was never the kind of man who got involved in other people's problems.I wasn't driven by heroism, nor did I believe in impulsive gestures.Most of the time, I preferred to observe, understand, and act — only when necessary — and always with precision.
But in that moment, there was no calculation.
The instant I saw Beatrice take a step back — her face pale, her eyes unfocused — and that man advancing toward her with that arrogant, polished smile, something inside me moved.
Instinctively.Directly.Without thought.
It was as if something old and silent had awakened.
A second before my mind could react, my body was already there — between them.The space vanished.
The warm wind of the street brushed against my shirt as I positioned myself in front of her.For the first time, I felt the difference in temperature — behind me, Beatrice was quiet, light, almost fragile; in front of me, the man radiated arrogance, that nauseating kind of presence that fills the air around it.
"Unfortunately, we've already eaten," I said — firm, without raising my voice.
Simple words.But enough.
The effect was immediate.
The man's expression changed.
Subtle at first — then visibly, unmistakably.The falsely courteous arch of his eyebrow tightened.The polished smile collapsed, and the elegant, well-trained features that projected charm and superiority twisted under the weight of restrained anger.
And to my surprise… it felt good.
More than that — it was satisfying.Watching that kind of man, so used to being in control, lose composure in front of me gave me an almost physical pleasure — like a quiet snap deep in my chest.
There was no rational reason for that reaction.But it was undeniable.There was something deeply gratifying about watching disdain and irritation distort a face like his — perfect, rehearsed, empty.
The silence that followed was brief but dense.He looked at me as though I were an insult — an anomaly daring to exist outside the unspoken rules of his world.And I met his stare with calm, the kind that only comes after facing far worse fury than his.
It didn't matter who he was.It didn't matter his surname, his money, his supposed influence.
In that moment, he was just an angry man.And I, the obstacle he didn't know how to move past.
And I didn't regret it — not for a second.Not the impulse, not the confrontation.
Because seeing his composure crack like that was…strangely gratifying.
Even if there would be consequences, I would accept them without hesitation.Some sensations — the kind born from pure instinct — don't need regret.
Lorenzo di Rossi.
That name wasn't unfamiliar.In fact, it was far too familiar.One of those names that time never erases — only buries deep enough to echo later.
The moment I heard it, something inside me shut tight.
In my previous life, I had been part of the structure built by that same family.Not the Rossi's main guild — the empire ruled by the direct heirs — but one of its subsidiaries, led by a distant cousin of Lorenzo.Back then, I believed I was among allies.
I believed that man — that cousin — was my friend.A partner. Someone who shared my goals within the Tower.We had trained together, fought together, built trust on the battlefield.I believed in that loyalty — believed in him.
But in the end, the last thing I felt was his blade.
The pain in my back didn't come only from metal tearing flesh — it came from betrayal.From that single moment when I realized that what I'd called "alliance" was nothing but convenience.That what I mistook for camaraderie was just manipulation in disguise.
And though no solid proof survived that day, I knew.I didn't need proof to recognize the pattern.Nothing happened within Rossi operations without Lorenzo's shadow behind it.
He was the kind of man who never dirtied his hands — only moved pieces and watched others bleed on his board.
So when I saw him standing before me today, in the real world, the past stirred within me like a returning ghost.It wasn't just a memory — it was a reminder.
That arrogant gaze, that theatrical tone, that poison-laced smile — it was all the same.The same face. The same mask.But this time, I knew exactly what hid behind it.
And that changed everything.
Because now, I wasn't the man who trusted too easily.I wasn't the soldier who followed orders blindly.I had learned.
And in this life, I would make sure to return everything.Every wound, every deception, every betrayal.
Fate had given me a second chance, and I wouldn't waste a single fragment of it.If the past had forged my downfall, the present would become the beginning of my retribution.
Facing Lorenzo today was nothing more than an appetizer.A taste of what was to come — for him, his accomplices, and everyone who had fed on my ruin.
And for the first time in years, the thought of settling those debts stirred something deep inside me.Not anger.Calm.Cold, methodical… and exquisite.
The car began to slow down, and a few seconds later, stopped.The smooth halt, the sway of the suspension — it brought me back from that dense trance.
It felt like waking from a heavy dream — or more accurately, from a past that refused to stay buried.I blinked slowly, feeling the tension drain from my shoulders as the soft hum of the engine faded.
It took me a moment to register where I was.My thoughts still echoed with Lorenzo di Rossi's name — the weight of the past, the metallic taste of memory — until something broke through the haze:
I wasn't alone.
I turned my head — Beatrice was beside me.
She sat upright, her posture flawless, but her expression distant, as if her mind was still trapped somewhere between the moment and its aftermath.Her fingers were loosely clasped in her lap; her breathing, though steady, betrayed effort — the quiet struggle to maintain composure.
The sunlight streaming through the car window touched her hair, making the gold shimmer faintly.For an instant, the contrast between her fragile elegance and the weight still lingering inside me was… unsettling.
I turned away, looking out the window.
The street was unfamiliar — old houses, an iron gate adorned with intricate patterns, tall trees casting long shadows across the pavement.None of it looked recognizable.
I frowned slightly.
"Ah… where are we?" I asked, my voice calm but laced with genuine curiosity.
The question slipped out before I could think.I was still trying to put my mind in order — to separate past from present — and the last thing I expected was to realize that we'd stopped in a place I didn't know.