Five Bosses of West Blue

West Blue, Sicily Island.

Night was shrouded in a thick, impenetrable fog of conspiracy. Far from the clamor of the harbor, the air in the secret chamber of an ancient mansion deep in the heart of the island was as stagnant as a tomb.

Only a few dim wall lamps struggled to dispel the darkness, their light barely outlining a heavy round table and the five figures seated around it. Shadows flickered across their faces, making their already varied expressions seem even more sinister.

William Bernano sat at the head of the table. His fingertips lightly tapped the smooth tabletop as he slowly broke the silence.

"Everyone, I think it's time we joined forces. If we keep fighting separately, that silver-haired brat will pick us off one by one. I'm sure you've all seen his momentum for yourselves."

Before he could finish, an exceptionally tall Longarm Tribe man across from him let out a derisive snort, his voice rough and grating.

"Join forces? William, you make it sound easy. The underworld doesn't believe in that democratic voting nonsense. An alliance needs someone giving orders, doesn't it? Who'll be in charge? You?"

He was Gambino Francis, who controlled West Blue's assassins, underground bare-knuckle fighting rings, and contraband drug trade.

A flash of displeasure passed through William's eyes behind his lenses. Just as he was about to speak, Avery cut in with a sinister tone that carried the stench of seawater.

"If you're about to say you should be in charge, save it, William. A vampire like you, who only knows how to suck people dry, isn't qualified."

William's face darkened instantly. He abruptly turned toward Avery, the chain of his monocle swaying slightly as he spoke in a biting, icy voice.

"Not qualified? Then is a lowly fish like you, only fit to soak in saltwater, qualified, Avery?"

"What did you say?!"

Avery shot to his feet. His massive body cast an even deeper shadow as his webbed palm slammed down on the table with a dull boom.

His eyes gleamed viciously as he assumed the opening stance of Fish-Man Karate.

"A mere inferior species dares to spout such nonsense? I'll kill you right here today!"

William rose as well without backing down. Though he was nowhere near as powerfully built as the fish-man, his presence was no weaker, and one hand had already settled on the hidden weapon at his waist.

"You? Go ahead and try, trash fish!"

Just as the situation reached a breaking point, a sweet, cloying, dangerous fragrance seemed to disperse some of the tension. To William's right, a seductive woman with a voluptuous figure, dressed in a tight crimson gown and ripe as a peach, let out a soft sigh.

"Gentlemen,"

Mary's voice carried a lazy yet unquestionable magnetism.

"Before you start fighting, you'd best use those brains full of rage and think. If either of you comes to harm here, the news getting out will immediately trigger a fight to the death between your subordinates. Every drop of blood spilled and every bit of strength wasted will only benefit that little fellow watching us like a tiger. I assume that isn't what either of you wants?"

Her words were like a bucket of cold water, extinguishing their impulsive fury. William and Avery exchanged a glance, each seeing wariness and calculation in the other's eyes.

They snorted coldly and sat back down heavily almost at the same time, turning their faces away and refusing to look at each other.

Mary rubbed her smooth forehead and shifted her gaze to the last person at the round table, the one who had barely made a sound from beginning to end.

He was a short, stocky man in a striped scarf and striped suit, a cigar clenched between his teeth, his face expressionless behind the curling smoke.

"Bege," Mary said, her red lips parting slightly.

"You're the only one who hasn't said anything. What do you think?"

Capone Bege took a deep drag from his cigar and slowly exhaled a thick white smoke ring before letting out an undisguised scoff.

"What do I think? Hmph. My opinion is that joining forces with a bunch of incompetent fools like you, who only know how to fight among yourselves and hesitate at every turn, would only hold me back. Keep wasting your time here, playing this childish alliance game."

He abruptly stood. Though short and stocky, his body radiated the oppressive presence of solid rock. He crushed the butt of his cigar into the expensive mahogany tabletop.

"I'll take my leave."

After tossing out those cold words, Bege turned away without the slightest hesitation and strode out of the secret chamber. The heavy sound of the door closing echoed through the room for a long while.

"Bastard!"

"What an ungrateful fool!"

"Who the hell does he think he is?!"

The remaining three male bosses were so enraged by the blatant contempt that they slammed their hands on the table and rose again, their curses nearly blowing the roof off.

As Mary watched the chaotic scene, all that remained on her exquisite, alluring face was profound exhaustion and helplessness. She pressed a hand to her forehead again, feeling her temples throb painfully.

This secret meeting, which concerned the future of West Blue's underworld, ended on a sour note without accomplishing anything substantial.

Time quietly slipped toward dawn.

Camorra Family headquarters, a heavily guarded bedroom at its deepest point.

Heavy velvet curtains shut out the rising sunlight, leaving the room dim.

Mary reclined against a massive round bed covered in silk sheets, a slender ladies' cigarette held between her fingers. Its crimson ember flickered in the darkness.

The enchanting charm she had displayed the night before was gone from her face, leaving only the sorrow and deep anxiety beneath her mask. A night of scheming that had yielded nothing had left her exhausted in body and mind.

Among the five forces, the Camorra Family had always been relatively weak. Its primary businesses were the red-light district and intelligence trade, and its overall strength was not formidable.

Facing Adams's ruthless expansion and plundering through sheer force, she had suffered the greatest losses and faced the greatest pressure.

She was the one most eager to break the current deadlock.

Smoke drifted upward, blurring her beautiful face.

Just then, there was a soft knock on the bedroom's thick, ornate wooden door.

Mary's delicate brows furrowed slightly. Being interrupted in her thoughts annoyed her, but she still calmly uttered a single word.

"Enter."

The door opened soundlessly, and a woman of equal beauty entered, dressed in a sharp business suit and skirt.

She was Sophia, Mary's most trusted confidante and adviser.

Sophia stopped at an appropriate distance from the bed and bowed slightly, her posture exceedingly respectful.

"Good morning, Godmother."

"What is it?" Mary's voice was lazily husky.

"One of our girls was 'entertaining' the leader of a small gang smuggling contraband when she unexpectedly pried an interesting piece of information out of his pleas for mercy."

Sophia spoke steadily and clearly.

"It concerns the whereabouts of Nico Robin, the Demon Child. I believe this information may become the breakthrough we need to resolve our current troubles."

TO BE CONTINUED

(It's been three days and there's still no traffic. Is this book going to flop?)