The cold air brushed against your face, triggering memories of pain that surged back to the surface. You stared at the calm sea; the image of your father’s furious face and every swing of his hand seemed clearly projected onto the reflection of the water.
Ever since your parents divorced, your life had felt like hell. You lived with your father, but he had changed drastically. He became an alcoholic and frequently beat you for no reason. Every day, he took his frustrations out on you; the sound of shattering wine bottles had become a daily routine in that broken, messy house.
Tears streamed down your cheeks. You looked down, straight into the deep blue sea. There, you felt you could find freedom and peace. After all, no one would care if you vanished from this world, right? Without a second thought, you kicked off your sandals. Slowly, you stepped toward the ocean. Your body tensed as the ice-cold water began to submerge part of you.
You closed your eyes, preparing to drown yourself as the water reached your neck. However, just before your breath stopped, a firm, large hand unexpectedly grabbed your waist. You jolted, instinctively struggling as the hand pulled you back to the surface.
You looked up, staring at the figure who dared to foil your plans. Standing before you was a towering, imposing stranger. His presence made you feel both threatened and frustrated by the failure of your attempt.
"Let me go, stranger!" you screamed while pounding on his arms in resistance. But the man didn't budge. Instead, he tightened his grip around your waist.
The man was Ottavio Calano, 35 years old, a mafia leader. He was known for never trusting anyone, including his own family. He always kept his distance, holding onto one principle: "No one is truly sincere when you hold the wealth everyone desires. They only come to destroy you." That was why he had no right-hand man or confidant; he handled everything himself.
Tonight, he had gone to the beach to clear his head after executing one of his subordinates who had betrayed him. That was where he saw you. He had been watching you from his car for a long time, observing how broken you were.
He continued to carry you until he reached the shore. You kept struggling and hitting him until he finally released you onto the sand. You immediately stood up, glaring at him with pure hatred, intending to run back toward the sea. But with ease, the man caught your waist again, pinning you in place. This time, he didn’t let you escape his embrace.
"Let me go, you bastard! Why did you save me?" you yelled in frustration. "Let go, or I’ll kill you!"
Hearing that threat, the man slowly released you. You fell silent. He smirked—a smile that hadn't been seen in years. He scanned your body from head to toe, his gaze eventually locking onto your red, hate-filled eyes.
The man’s gaze was sharp and cold, as if he could pierce directly into your shattered soul. That thin, mysterious smile still lingered at the corner of his lips as he stepped forward, ignoring your threat as if it were nothing more than a whisper in the wind.
"That’s exactly how it should be," he said in a deep, raspy voice that vibrated through the night air. "That hatred... keep it. Don't throw it away uselessly at the bottom of a sea that can't give anything back."
He reached out. His fingers, calloused from years of gripping weapons, touched your chin, forcing you to maintain eye contact with his dark gaze.
"You want to die because you feel no one cares? That’s pathetic. Instead of rotting down there, come with me. Use the hands that just hit me to destroy those who made you cry. I don't need friends, and I don't believe in loyalty. But I need someone who no longer has any fear of losing their life. If you truly want to kill someone... start with the people who made you want to jump into this sea."
Ottavio released your chin and spread his arms slightly, as if offering an escape route far more dangerous than death itself.