After I recovered, nothing sour or bitter ever appeared on my dinner table again.
I took the pot from Donna Vittoria's hands and, as if I couldn't feel the scalding heat, drank half the soup in one long gulp.
The remaining half I poured out beside Master's body.
I wiped my mouth. "Not bad, old man. But the blood mixed in makes it a little fishy."
"Have a taste yourself. Pay attention next time you make it."
That was what finally shattered Donna Vittoria's composure.
The tears she had held back for so long broke free all at once.
"Nara, there won't be a next time. Your master is dead!"
Oh, right. There wouldn't be a next time.
Fine. Since Master couldn't look after me anymore, it was my turn to protect him for once.
I unfastened the coat Master had sewn for me with his own hands and draped it over his body. My voice was calm. "Donna, watch over Master. Don't bury him."
"He'd be too lonely by himself. I'll find him some company for the grave."
Donna Vittoria couldn't stop me. All she could do was weep and beg me to come back alive.
I carried Mietitore and walked toward the Valente compound.
The chain-link gate of the Castellano yard groaned shut behind me, and somewhere in the distance, the low rumble of engines told me the compound perimeter was already on alert.
Valente soldiers rushed forward, blocking me outside the compound gates.
The one leading them was none other than my senior brother from the Castellano crew, Master's proudest protégé: Edoardo Castellano.
He stared at me in surprise, brow furrowed. His hand went to his tie, tugging it straight. "Nara, if you've come to seek the Boss's favor, you should keep your head down and your voice low."
"What's the point of making such a scene?"
I didn't bother looking at him. My eyes stayed fixed on the compound gates. "Tell Aldric Valente to come out."
"Tell him an old friend has come to visit."
Edoardo let out a weary sigh.
"Nara, have you lost your mind?"
"We're nobodies. Street kids from a nothing crew. If not for this stroke of fortune, how could we ever have been made and stood before the Boss of All Bosses?"
"'An old friend.' You're not embarrassed to say that out loud?"
Only then did I turn to look at Edoardo, each word falling like a stone. "You call Master's death a stroke of fortune?"
Edoardo faltered. A flicker of guilt surfaced in his eyes. His fingers went to his tie again, pulling at the knot, though it hadn't moved.