The Heart of Palermo
Palermo's bustling central district housed a street of workshops. Pushing open the most weathered and ancient door revealed a dim interior amid the creak of rusty hinges.
"Cough—cough—Haven't been here in ages, and it's a total disaster."
Ludovico waved away the dust as he stepped inside, flicking on the lights first to survey the workshop. Tools lay shattered or rusted beyond repair, decorations crumbling to pieces. He let out a deep sigh and hung his head.
"……I don't even know where to start."
This place barely qualified as a workspace anymore.
"This is way too bad…… If they seized the workshop, shouldn't they have at least maintained it?"
Elena muttered as she gathered shards of pottery and scattered tools from the floor. Even I couldn't help but lament the state of things.
……Looks like repairs will take some time.
This wasn't just anyone's project—it was for my gear. I couldn't leave it like this.
"Maestro, mind waiting a bit? Elena, stop picking that up before you cut yourself."
I pulled out my phone and dialed one of my contacts.
A few rings later.
—……Mm. Hello?
Her voice was huskier than usual. Then it hit me—Italy was eight hours behind Korea. If it was evening here……
……early morning back home?
"Sorry to call so late. It's urgent."
—It's fine. I haven't been asleep long. I can always catch more later.
She was probably just being considerate. Haru's voice sharpened over the line.
—You said it's urgent. What's going on?
"I need supplies for a workshop in Sicily. Can you handle it?"
—……Sicily? Luckily, I have a supplier there I keep in touch with.
Haru never disappointed.
"I'll give you the address and list. Don't worry about cost—get the best."
I rattled off the essentials and the shop's location.
—Got it. I'll make sure they arrive today.
"Thanks, as always."
—Just doing my job.
Short pleasantries exchanged, I hung up and dialed the next number.
—Yes, Young Master. Latte speaking.
"What're you up to?"
—Working?
"Help me out here."
—……Right now?
"No need to come yourself. Send a few spare troops from Sicily HQ. Place needs cleaning."
Silence on her end.
Then, Latte's voice turned deadly serious.
—Should I arm them with heavy weapons?
"What?"
—Oh? Got it.
She'd clearly misinterpreted "cleaning."
"……Not that kind of cleaning. Actual building cleanup. It's filthy—need manpower."
—Ah, that cleaning. Right. I'll check with the Don and send some over. What's the address?
I gave her the details. Come to think of it, the Don here was my Milan uncle, right?
"If Uncle Milan asks, just say it's my request."
—Yes, sir. Confirmed. I'll update you.
"Good."
That covered immediate needs. Pocketing my phone, I looked up to find Ludovico and Elena staring blankly at me.
"……?"
Elena spoke first.
"……Mafia boss heir. Forgot for a sec you're Calione's successor."
Ah, right.
But Ludovico seemed stunned for a different reason.
"No, reclaiming the workshop was enough…… You didn't have to go this far. We could've borrowed tools from another shop……."
He looked like he felt indebted. To me, it was pocket change.
"No worries. These are for crafting my gear to perfection. If it bothers you…… make it the pinnacle of your career."
Spending chump change to win over a master craftsman and secure the world's finest shoes? Pure profit.
"……I'll craft something beyond your wildest dreams!"
His fire was lit—perfect.
"Cleanup crew's handling the rest. Let's grab dinner. Elena, recommend a spot nearby?"
"Oh! Leave it to me! Come on—I'll take you to Sicily's best eats!"
* * *
Following Elena led us to a restaurant sign reading "Anna's Kitchen" in Italian.
"……Here?"
"My mom's place. Come on in!"
……Sicily's finest?
"Heh heh. Anna's food is top-notch. Let's head inside."
Ludovico's endorsement suggested it wasn't just hype…… but still.
"Mom! I'm home!"
Elena bounded in, leading us into the cozy eatery.
"You're late for dinner. Where've you…… Oh, Marco?"
"Anna. Long time."
"It's been ages! Visiting the village with Elena? What's the occasion?"
She wiped her hands on her apron, eyeing him curiously.
Ludovico chuckled.
"Been playing too much—time to work. Things are looking up lately."
Anna beamed, grabbing his hands.
"Wonderful! A man like you bounces back quick. Here for dinner?"
"Yep. The usual."
"Got it…… And this handsome young man?"
She turned to me—definitely Elena's features.
"Same for me, please."
"Coming right up!"
"Mom! Me too!"
"You, help in the kitchen, girl!"
"Mooom!"
Ludovico snickered as Elena got dragged off.
"Anna—Elena's mom—kept this old dog from starving all these years."
"Proof of the Maestro's generosity over the years."
Half the village owed him their lives, no doubt.
"Heh, kind words. Got a place to crash?"
"Yeah. Booked a hotel in central Palermo."
"Good. My shack's half in ruins—would've felt bad."
Ha ha!
Truth was, hotel suited my workload better. I smiled along.
Moments later.
"Sorry for the wait!"
Elena returned with a massive tray, unloading plates.
"Two alla norma as ordered! Oh, caponata's on the house!"
Pasta and a rich red stew of eggplant starred before us. She plopped down, grabbing fork and spoon.
"'House caponata,' huh? You just wanted some. Ha ha ha!"
"I was starving…… Been moving all day."
Elena grinned sheepishly, bowing her head. Ludovico followed suit, eyes closed.
Pre-meal prayer—common here.
What were they praying for? One thing was certain……
'Please let the shoes turn out perfect.'
Mine was the most fervent.
* * *
Back at the hotel after dinner and chit-chat, I showered lightly and opened my laptop from Korea.
Abroad or not, I was Silver Club president and lead on the funding project. No true rest for me.
Just checking reports and logging finances, really.
Then.
—Knock knock.
A knock echoed from the door.
"……Who at this hour?"
I closed the laptop, stood, and stretched. This was a four-star Sicily hotel suite—no random visitors, and I hadn't ordered room service.
"Who is it."
Approaching slowly, I peered through the peephole.
Nothing outside.
"……Huh?"
Something had knocked, right? Turning away—
—Knock knock.
Again. Not my imagination.
"Door pranking? Here?"
Door-knock-and-run—classic Korean teen travel prank.
But here?
Sensing trouble, I pulled Al Capone's Tommy from my cube and crept to the door, gun ready.
Muffling my steps, I pressed against it, waiting.
—Knock knock.
Now!
BAM!
I flung the door open, Thompson leveled.
"Which little shit dares—"
—BANG!
"Guh!"
A thud against the door, vibration jolting my grip.
"Huh?"
Something white collapsed before me.
I stared blankly.
"What the……?"
Snow-white hair nearly brushing the floor, habit like a nun's—all in pristine white. Pure innocence personified.
But her forehead…… bright red.
She'd been knocking? Too short for the peephole?
"Ha…… Now what?"
A colossal mix-up from suspicion.
How to fix this?
Then.
"Huh?"
A golden cross gleamed at her neck.
Wait.
That necklace……
"Vatican?"
Cold sweat prickled my back and brow.
Oh no.
I'd done it.