Chapter 94: Mess

The Riina Family Residence — Aldric’s Office

The following morning, Aldric sat in a dimly lit room, the faint yellow light of a desk lamp illuminating only a small portion of his office.

He rolled a cigarette between his fingers.

"Lorenzo?"

"Yes. The Young Master left for the academy a few minutes ago."

"I see."

Aldric placed the cigarette between his lips. Salvatore, standing beside him, immediately took a lighter from his pocket and lit it.

Aldric inhaled deeply.

"Haah..."

A cloud of smoke drifted from his mouth, briefly obscuring his face.

"I never expected him to handle Zomboto alone."

He glanced at Salvatore.

"Did you really not intervene?"

"Not once, Boss. I watched from the sidelines throughout the fight."

Salvatore paused, recalling the battle.

"To be honest, I was surprised myself. The Young Master has improved considerably. His judgment, adaptability, and ability to exploit his opponent’s weaknesses were better than I expected."

Aldric chuckled.

"Hahaha! Of course. He’s my son, after all."

He leaned back in his chair, looking rather pleased.

"He’s incredible, isn’t he?"

"Indeed, Boss. The future of the family is in capable hands."

"That’s right."

Aldric brought his cigarette toward the ashtray.

However, instead of a simple pile of ash, there was something else resting beside it.

A bloodied lump of flesh.

With a faint sizzling sound, the lump began to twitch.

"B-Boss... P-Please..."

Aldric glanced down.

"Hmm? You still have enough strength left to struggle?"

"Mercy... Please, have mercy..."

The voice belonged to Zomboto Hiroshi.

The former head of the Hiroshi Family was barely recognizable. His body was covered in injuries, and his mutilated arms lay uselessly beside him. He had spent the night enduring Aldric’s interrogation, but he had yet to provide anything particularly valuable.

Aldric casually pressed his cigarette against the injured flesh.

"ARRRGGHHHH!"

Zomboto’s body convulsed.

Aldric watched him for a moment before wiping his hand with a towel.

"Zomboto, Zomboto..."

He shook his head.

"What a foolish man. Why couldn’t you understand your position? Why did you think you could betray my family and attack my son?"

Zomboto struggled to breathe.

"A-Ahhhh... Hoo... Hoo..."

Aldric grabbed him by the hair and forced his head upward, making their eyes meet.

"Be quiet."

His voice remained calm.

"Next time you make another sound, I’ll crush your vocal cords and remove your eyes. Perhaps the crows outside will appreciate them."

"Mmm..."

"Good. Very good. Just remain silent."

Aldric released his hair.

"I was planning to extract information about the Dreamers from you, but I’ve changed my mind."

Zomboto’s eyes trembled.

"Y-You... don’t need..."

Aldric raised an eyebrow.

"What was that?"

Zomboto immediately shut his mouth.

Aldric stared at him for several seconds.

"Whoever dares to come after my family will meet the same fate as you."

As he spoke, he slowly raised his right hand.

The darkness beneath his feet began to move.

It spread across the floor like a living creature, gathering in the air before him. The shadows twisted and stretched, gradually forming the shape of a long, sinister weapon.

A moment later, a massive katana emerged.

Its curved blade was so black that it seemed to swallow the light around it.

Zomboto’s eyes widened.

"N-No... Boss, please..."

Aldric didn’t respond.

Slash!

Thud!

The katana moved once.

Zomboto’s head separated from his body and struck the wall before rolling across the floor.

Silence returned to the room.

[Your Domain Slightly Expands.]

Aldric glanced at the notification for barely a second before dismissing it.

He had no particular interest in checking his progress at the moment.

Instead, he turned toward Salvatore.

"Have someone clean up this mess."

"Understood, Boss."

"And find out everything you can about the Dreamers... I want to know who’s pulling the strings."

"Should we also investigate the people who helped Hiroshi?"

"Especially them."

Aldric took another drag from his cigarette.

"I want to know who thought they could use my family’s name to approach that fool."

Salvatore bowed slightly.

"As you command, Boss."

He turned toward the door, but Aldric spoke again.

"Salvatore."

The older man stopped.

"Yes, Boss?"

"Keep an eye on Lorenzo."

Salvatore smiled faintly.

"Of course. The Young Master will be attending the academy as usual."

"Good."

Aldric looked toward the window.

"He’s growing faster than I expected. But strength alone won’t make him a suitable successor."

His expression softened slightly.

"I want him to enjoy his youth while he still can."

Salvatore nodded.

"I understand."

With that, he left the office.

Aldric remained alone, surrounded by the faint smell of tobacco and blood.

For a while, he simply watched the smoke rising from his cigarette.

Then he thought about a particular point of conversation that he had with son last night.

The Silent Plotter...

’Soon. I’ll have to tell him about his mother.’

----

Lorenzo POV:

"Have a nice day, Young Master."

Enzo, who had finally returned to his duties after recovering from his injuries, parked the car in front of the academy’s main gate and opened the rear door.

"Thank you."

I stepped out and adjusted my suit before looking toward the academy entrance.

It was same as usual.

However, there was one thing different about me compared to yesterday.

I was in an exceptionally good mood.

And the reason was simple.

The Blood Eye.

The S-rank artifact my father had given me last night was hanging around my neck, hidden beneath my shirt. Its presence was barely noticeable, but its effects were undeniable.

For the first time in a long while, I could look around without feeling compelled to correct every little imperfection.

The slightly uneven arrangement of the parked cars didn’t bother me.

Neither did the crooked sign near the academy entrance.

Even the student walking toward the gate with his untied shoelaces failed to irritate me as much as he normally would have.

’This is wonderful.’

I couldn’t help but smile.

It wasn’t that my [Perfectionist] trait had disappeared. I could still notice every little detail, and certain imperfections continued to bother me.

However, the overwhelming urge to fix them had subsided.

That alone was enough to make my day considerably better.