Beatrice Medici's Perspective
Beatrice drove back toward the campus.
The route wasn't long — a familiar, quiet road lined with trees that swayed gently in the wind.And yet, that afternoon, it felt different.
Too short.
Maybe it was the conversation.Maybe it was the company.
She and Alessio spoke little, but just enough for the silence between words not to feel uncomfortable.Every now and then, he would comment on the Tower or make an observation about the traffic.And she would answer — sometimes distractedly, sometimes with a restrained hint of humor that made him show the faintest smile.
It was a strangely pleasant drive, and Beatrice realized how easy it was to talk to him when she didn't have to measure every sentence.With Alessio, there was no need for façades, no social masks, no cold posture demanded by her last name.It was just conversation — simple, direct, human.
That was why, when the car finally turned onto the avenue leading to the campus, she felt a strange weight in her chest.A quiet wish that the drive would last a little longer.That there would be more time before everything returned to reality.
The sun was already setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and rose.The windows glowed with the warm reflection of twilight, and the campus stretched ahead — calm and spacious, students walking along the pathways, voices carrying through the soft evening air.
Beatrice parked exactly where she had that morning.The same place — but a completely different world.
Alessio stepped out first, moving with his usual composed precision — that same quiet control that made him seem immune to chaos.Before closing the door, he leaned slightly toward her, waved, and said a brief, casual "See you soon."So natural, so unassuming — and yet, for a second, her heart faltered.
She just nodded, a discreet smile on her lips, and waited until he disappeared among the campus buildings.
Then, silence returned.
The door closed, and the muffled sound of the engine dying filled the car with a heavy stillness.Beatrice remained there, motionless, hands still on the wheel, feeling the echo of everything that had happened.
The memories came in waves — Lorenzo, the fear, the confrontation, Alessio's voice, the smile, the flight, the return.It all blended together into a chaotic, dizzying sequence.
And then she felt it.Her entire body trembling, air trapped in her lungs, throat burning.
She wanted to scream.Scream so loud that the sound would shatter the glass and tear open the sky.She wanted to release everything — the fear, the anger, the relief, the confusion.But she couldn't.
The parking lot was full, people passing just meters from her car.So instead, she leaned forward, pressing her forehead against the steering wheel, her fingers gripping the cold leather tightly.
Her shoulders shook once, and she bit her lower lip hard, suppressing the urge to cry out.All she could do was breathe — once, twice, three times — until her breathing found rhythm again.
And there she stayed, silent, confined within that narrow space between herself and the steering wheel, trying to gather what little control remained.
But deep down, she knew.The chaos was still there.And the simple fact that Alessio Leone had been by her side made it impossible to pretend that nothing had changed.
And then, amid all that turmoil, Beatrice smiled.A small, fleeting, but genuine smile.
It was almost absurd, she knew.There she was — leaning against the steering wheel, heart still racing, body tense — and yet, a smile insisted on appearing.But it wasn't any random memory that caused it. It was that scene.
The image of Alessio stepping in front of her, between her and Lorenzo, came back with sharp clarity, as if etched into her mind.The way he moved — without hesitation, without calculation — firm, resolute, unshakable — standing before the man she hated most in the world.
That single gesture, simple as it was, had broken something inside her.
She could still recall the exact feeling of that moment: the shock, the relief, and then… the heat.A strange warmth rising from her chest to her face, confusing every emotion she tried to contain.It wasn't just gratitude — it was something deeper, something she wasn't ready to examine, not yet.
The more she remembered, the more the smile grew.Involuntary. Soft. Bright with an emotion she couldn't quite name.
Then another memory came — the instant when she had grabbed his arm.
It was vivid.The touch of her pale fingers against the warmth of his skin.The contrast between her delicate hand and the bronze tone of his forearm.The solid, restrained strength she had felt beneath the fabric of his shirt — steady, grounded, real.
For a heartbeat, she had hesitated.But only for a heartbeat.
Instinct spoke louder.Before she knew it, her slender arm was wrapped around his.
She didn't know where that courage came from.Maybe it was fear.Maybe instinct.Or maybe… something she refused to admit even to herself.
But she had done it.She had reached for him — close enough to feel the warmth radiating from him, to realize how tangible, how human, how different he was from everything she'd known.
And now, alone in the car, Beatrice smiled again.A light, almost foolish smile she couldn't hold back.
Because, improbable as it was, that single image — her arm linked with his, the sense of safety, the unyielding look in Alessio's eyes — had become something she could hardly believe…
And something she knew she would never forget.
When she finally lifted her head, feeling the muscles in her neck ache from tension, Beatrice took a deep breath.For a moment, the distant sounds of the city returned — the soft hum of cars, scattered voices, the rhythmic tapping of footsteps on the pavement.She blinked, clearing her vision blurred by exhaustion and emotion.
And then she saw it.
Right in front of her, across the street, pinned to one of the advertisement boards near the parking lot, a colorful poster stood out.The glossy paper gleamed under the streetlights, and the bold letters seemed to call her by name:
"Come explore the world of the Black Tower."
Beatrice froze, staring at those words, a faint shiver running down her arms.For a second, time seemed to align.
Everything made sense.
She knew exactly what she had to do.
Before, she had entered that game out of curiosity — a light distraction before bed, a way to escape the weight of meetings and family obligations.But now, it meant something else.
The Black Tower would no longer be a pastime.It would be a purpose.
She wanted to understand it, learn it, conquer it.Master every system, every structure, every secret inside that universe.
And deep down, there was a far more personal reason.The memory of Alessio's calm defiance, the way he stood against Lorenzo, the passion and precision with which he spoke about the Tower — as if it were an extension of his own mind — had left a mark she couldn't ignore.
Beatrice realized, almost with a smile, that she had just found a new way to get closer to him.Not through planned meetings or polite conversations — but inside the one world he knew better than anyone.
The Black Tower would be the bridge between them.And if conquering it was what it took to earn Alessio Leone's respect — and his attention — then she was willing to go as far as it took.
The reflection of the poster shimmered one last time, and something inside her shifted.The fear and confusion of the past hours were still there, but now they mixed with something new — determination.
She fixed her hair, straightened her posture, and, with one last glance at the poster, whispered softly — almost as a promise:
"Then let's see what this Tower is made of."