Chapter 5

Although it was past lunchtime, customers were sparsely seen in the restaurant. Leo walked straight inside without the waiter's guidance. Judging by the fact that the waiter saw him but didn't approach, he seemed to either have received prior notice or was acquainted with him.

"I've brought him," Leo said briefly as he stopped in front of a table. His tone was identical to when he had threatened Eugene by pressing a gun against his stomach earlier.

Two men were sitting at the four-person table. Both were elderly with white hair, and their elegant suits were particularly eye-catching.

One of the elderly men looked at Eugene standing behind Leo and put down the fork and knife he was holding. He wiped his mouth with a napkin and gestured for Eugene to sit in the empty seat across from him. Eugene hesitated to move and looked at Leo. Leo nodded slightly as if telling him to do as instructed and pulled out the chair for him.

Once Eugene sat down, Leo turned around as if his job was done. He walked to a window table some distance away, sat down, ordered food, and opened a newspaper.

Eugene turned his gaze to his table as slowly as possible. The two elderly men were staring intently at Eugene's face, as if by prior arrangement.

Suits. Italians. Given what happened last night, these two details alone were enough to confirm that these elderly men were mafia. 

The wrinkled faces of the two elderly men had quite gentle-looking impressions, so at least at first glance or outwardly, they didn't appear to be mafia at all. Of course, that didn't mean Eugene wasn't tense. Was it because he had anticipated this? Or was it the atmosphere naturally emanating from them? His mouth went completely dry.

"Eugene Biscetti, is it?" asked the elderly man sitting across from him. Eugene was startled and momentarily held his breath before nodding with a delayed "...Yes." At that, the elderly man's expressionless face transformed completely, breaking into a smile.

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Biscetti. My name is Ricardo Luciano."

The elderly man who introduced himself as Ricardo Luciano extended his hand. Eugene carefully reached out and shook it. His hand was as wrinkled as his face. The short, stubby fingers and callused palm felt very rough. Eugene pretended not to notice the various ugly scars engraved on the old man's hand and fingers as he withdrew his hand from the handshake.

"Mateo Martino," said the elderly man sitting to Eugene's right, extending his hand. Unlike Ricardo Luciano just before, his hand was soft without a single callus. There were no noticeable scars or calluses on his fingers or the back of his hand—a hand that didn't feel like it bore any traces of violence.

"I'm a lawyer like you," Mateo Martino said as he withdrew his hand from the handshake. Instead of feeling pleased to meet someone in the same profession, Eugene secretly clenched his fist, feeling a chill. His encounter with the blonde killer had been just this dawn. Yet these men had already figured out his occupation.

Eugene cooled his head. Taking aspirin right after waking up had been a very good decision. If he still had a headache from the hangover, it would have been difficult to think properly.

He couldn't remember exactly, but the last time he looked at his watch while emptying glasses of tequila, it was past 1 AM. If so, his encounter with the blonde killer Valentine was roughly between 2 and 3 AM. He woke up at home around 2 PM. In the end, these people had investigated Eugene's personal information within 10 to 12 hours, reached some conclusion, and summoned him here. A remarkably swift move. It was undeniably chilling.

But all things considered, the situation wasn't so desperate. If they had intended to kill him to silence him, he wouldn't have opened his eyes in his bed this morning. They wouldn't have met him in such a public place either. Perhaps they had chosen subtle intimidation instead of murder to silence him. And Eugene was perfectly willing to keep his mouth shut.

Eugene took a moment to gather his breath and then addressed Ricardo Luciano. He judged that the elderly man across from him, rather than the lawyer, held the decision-making power.

"Actually, I drank so heavily with my friends yesterday that I completely blacked out. I don't remember anything from the moment I left the bar until the moment I opened my eyes this afternoon. I was quite surprised to be summoned to an unfamiliar place as soon as I woke up. Did I perhaps make some appointment with Mr. Luciano during the night that I can't remember?"

Eugene lied very naturally. The words flowed smoothly without hesitation, and his expression was just right. These men were probably expecting something like this.

Ricardo Luciano and lawyer Mateo Martino exchanged glances and then suddenly burst into hearty laughter. Especially Ricardo Luciano, who may have choked while laughing, let out several violent coughs and then laughed out loud again. Eugene couldn't understand why they were laughing and sat expressionless.

"You'll make a very good lawyer," lawyer Mateo Martino praised, patting Eugene's shoulder in a friendly manner. It was certainly a compliment for a lawyer to be skilled at lying so naturally.

"I like this young man," said Mateo Martino, gripping Eugene's shoulder. The Italian elderly man who had introduced himself as a lawyer had deep wrinkles around his eyes from his smile.

Ricardo Luciano's attitude was different. He held a wine glass and stared blankly at Eugene's face. His black eyes, characteristic of Italians, emitted a strong light, unusual for an elderly man. Eugene's spine unconsciously stiffened under that gaze, which seemed to be assessing his innermost thoughts. The stare continued for a long time in silence. The lawyer sitting beside him, apparently accustomed to such things, was calmly drinking his wine.

Two female customers at a distant table burst into laughter during their conversation. At a nearby table, a couple began arguing in sharp voices. These were very ordinary scenes and sounds. Eugene was also sitting amidst this scenery, yet it felt unreal. His eyes were captivated solely by Ricardo Luciano's black eyes. It felt like a tense moment where the elderly man before him might pull out a gun and put a bullet between his eyes at any second.

Ricardo Luciano's black eyes, which had been chaining Eugene's gaze, suddenly turned in another direction. Only then did Eugene break free from the chain of gazes and relax the shoulder muscles he had been tensing.