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Everything was unfolding far too quickly, but Kyle was equal to the task because the more he spoke with this man, the more agitated he became.

Kyle was worried, and with good reason—this was the real deal. This man was more intimidating than even Marcello but Kyle knew too little about Marcello to make this assessment.

Yet, the way he spoke carried a casual tone, as if they had been friends for quite some time. Kyle expected cruelty, vulgarity, and a sharper edge to his words. But instead, there was restraint, which only made Kyle wonder if this calm demeanor was nothing but a façade. After all, there was no such thing as a good Mafia.

This wasn’t some video game. This was real life, and Kyle knew one wrong move was all it would take.

Viktor didn’t waste time. He went straight to the point, asking if there was truly a mole. That simple question told Kyle everything—Alfredo reported directly to this man.

“That is right, I have strong beliefs there is a mole,” Kyle replied. If this played out properly, he wouldn’t need Nakamura’s help.

The truth was, Kyle didn’t dislike the daughter enough to kidnap her and hand her over for whatever Nakamura had in mind. That would only end in bloodshed.

“Beliefs don’t make truth, my friend. You need proof.”

Viktor’s response struck hard. Kyle had no evidence—nothing but suspicions.

“I do,” Kyle said after a brief pause. He had to choose his next words carefully.

“I have news about someone called Cleopatra.”

The moment that name left his mouth, Viktor’s entire demeanor shifted.

“How do you know that name?” Viktor questioned, his voice carrying a weight that pressed down on Kyle. To Viktor, Kyle was nothing more than an entertainment figure who had gotten his hands dirty.

Kyle, however, couldn’t help but wonder—if Cleopatra was so wanted, then how was she able to casually attend the party where he had met her? Did these people not connect her identity? Or were there two separate personas at play?

Whatever the truth, Kyle realized he had just gained leverage. And he had no intention of holding back.

“I don’t know if I can trust you,” Kyle responded. But saying her name had already lit the fuse.

“Oh, friend… I will have you talking one way or another,” Viktor said, and in that moment, Kyle knew persuasion was pointless.

Viktor lunged. Kyle’s reflexes saved him, escaping by a hair’s breadth.

“You’re fast…” Viktor muttered, almost impressed. Kyle, however, knew that if guards were called in, things would turn deadly.

“H-Hey, I don’t want trouble,” Kyle said quickly.

“You speak of mole… but what if you are the mole?” Viktor blurted, and Kyle realized too late just how badly this could backfire.

His reasoning made sense, and Kyle cursed himself for underestimating how dangerous Cleopatra’s name was to utter so casually.

Viktor lunged again—faster this time. Kyle’s eyes widened; the speed was different, sharper, harder to counter. In the blink of an eye, Viktor’s hand wrapped around his neck.

The pressure was suffocating. Kyle was shocked at his strength; it felt like Viktor could snap his neck with a single constriction. He tried brute force but quickly realized it was useless. Instead, he relied on one of the many disarming skills he had consumed—and managed to break free.

But before he could even take a breath, Viktor appeared before him again and slammed a fist straight into his torso.

“H-He’s fast!” Kyle thought, his vision flashing white for a second from the impact. His improved physique saved him, allowing him to recover quickly.

He couldn’t go on the offensive. Doing so might mean his death.

“Stop it!” Kyle shouted, desperately trying to deescalate the fight. But Viktor wasn’t listening.

Then, as if nothing had happened, Viktor suddenly stopped. He casually strolled to the table, grabbed the glass of wine, and lifted it.

“You cannot waste good vodka,” Viktor said, downing the entire cup in one gulp.

Kyle was dumbfounded. How could someone that big move with such speed? It was becoming clear—this man wasn’t just dangerous, he was experienced. He was used to combat. And even with the countless skills Kyle had consumed, keeping up with him was nearly impossible.

The system allowed Kyle to learn skills, but he was beginning to understand the limitations. He couldn’t use multiple at once. Switching between them created delays—and against an opponent like this, not every skill worked.

Viktor’s primary style was grappling, yet his form carried the stance of a boxer. That mix caught Kyle completely off guard.

“You want, friend?” Viktor offered, holding out a drink like he hadn’t just tried to kill him.

Kyle was baffled by the abnormal behavior. But he wasn’t going to argue.

“S-Sure…” he replied, though his mind screamed suspicion. Was the drink spiked?

Meanwhile, Cleopatra had finished her conversation with Isabeau, though no one knew exactly what the two women had agreed upon. One thing was certain—Cleopatra wasn’t backing down. A war was coming, and Isabeau would have to choose her side.

Isabeau owed Cleopatra more than anyone realized. Cleopatra had helped her rise, becoming the head of a family she wasn’t even born into. She had been a recent recruit when the previous Don’s son—the man she was meant to marry—died shortly after Marcello’s war.

That groom-to-be, the family’s future head, had died under mysterious circumstances upon arriving in the United States. He and his wife had come to swear loyalty to Marcello, but mere minutes after landing, an assassin’s bullet ended his life. Isabeau had been hit as well, but unlike her husband, the wound wasn’t fatal.

Her husband had been killed instantly, a bullet straight to the head. But through resilience and sheer willpower, Isabeau endured what should have broken her. Instead, she took the reins of the family, proving her strength.

A role that would have crushed most women became her weapon. And through it, she earned the loyalty of a family that should have rejected her.