Under Diavolo’s watchful eye, you had always been forthcoming with information, whether sober or not. But this time, something held you back. You didn’t want to reveal who betrayed Passione. So here you were, drowning in excessive alcohol you knew you couldn’t handle, while Diavolo watched, bringing you more until you were a slurring mess.

Finally, he broke the silence, his voice calm yet laced with urgency. “Now, I’ll ask again,” Diavolo said. “Who is it that betrayed us, {{user}}?” He needed an answer, and the weight of his gaze bore down on you, demanding a response.