Silence hovered over the stone courtyard before the mausoleum. The death of Federico De Luca and children had gathered the entire elite of Crownia's underworld. Faces hidden behind expensive suits, cold eyes, hands tucked into pockets. No tears—only restrained tension.

  Sebastian stood under the mausoleum's roof, eyes fixed on the closed casket. Beside him, Sena, executive director of the Clover Group, watched everything with her arms crossed. He lit a cigarette and took a slow drag.

  "The widow seems too calm," she said, nodding toward the widow.

  Sebastian didn't answer right away.

  "There's nothing to say."

  Sena nodded, emotionless.

  "Crow would probably know if there were."

  She reached out her hand naturally.

  "Gimme one."

  Sebastian handed her the pack without a word, just a brief nod. Sena took a cigarette and lit it with his lighter. They both smoked in silence for a few seconds, eyes on the freshly sealed tomb.

  Other members of the faction passed by, offering silent condolences. Some looked lost. Others were just in a hurry to pick a new side.

  "How about the businesses?" Sebastian asked, still staring at the marble.

  "Shipping, fishing, seafood industries... those stay the same. But the smuggling and the drugs..." Sena lowered her voice, hesitant. "Those will be abandoned sooner or later."

  She took a deep drag, her eyes fixed on nothing for a moment before continuing:

  "I wonder how hard the other kings will fight for those. The scent of blood's in the air."

  Then, a black crow descended from the sky and landed on Sebastian's shoulder.

  He turned slightly, but didn't shoo it away. Sena watched him with a raised eyebrow.

  "They don't usually show up without a reason."

  She took another drag and glanced sideways at Sebastian.

  "So, what's the news?"

  "Crow's still looking for whoever inherited the authority."

  Sena pursed her lips slightly, thoughtful.

  "Hm. It'd be good to know soon. Would make it easier to plan my future."

  She took another drag from her cigarette, exhaling the smoke slowly.

  "And you?" Sena continued. "What do you plan to do?"

  "Wait for the contract to break. Maybe disappear. I've played my part in this game."

  Sebastian exhaled smoke, and after a moment of silence, asked:

  "What will you do until you find out who inherited it?"

  Sena gave a dry laugh, slowly releasing the smoke as if savoring the irony of the situation.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  "I've made a lot of money for Clover Group. Even if the widow fires me, I won't be short on offers."

  Sebastian turned slightly toward her.

  "And about the kings?"

  Sena smiled wryly, flicking the rest of the cigarette to the ground and crushing it beneath her heel.

  "I don't need that much money."

  —

  Later that same day, the Royal Café buzzed with hurried conversations from students and young professionals. The smell of coffee and sweet bread lingered in the air as Sylvia watched the street through the window, idly spinning her cup between her fingers.

  The drink had already gone cold when Camila emerged from the staff room, exhausted but smiling.

  "Waited long?" she asked, adjusting her apron.

  "Long enough to consider quitting college and asking for a job here," Sylvia replied with a crooked smile.

  Camila let out a short laugh as she grabbed her bag. The two left the café and stepped into the city's vibrant night.

  The sidewalks were crowded, traffic sluggish, and building fa?ades lit up with colorful signs. Animated ads blinked from every direction: cutting-edge tech, futuristic cosmetics, online gambling, drink specials, and electronic music. A sea of red, blue, and violet lights reflected off the wet asphalt, creating an atmosphere both electric and suffocating.

  A giant screen dominated the corner, playing a luxury brand commercial. Model and hostess Sasha appeared bathed in golden light, her loose blonde hair glowing as she walked through a lavish penthouse with a panoramic view of the city. She wore a shimmering dress that hugged her figure, radiating confidence and glamour. Around her, powerful figures in formal attire toasted with champagne, creating a scene of exclusivity and power. At the end of the ad, Sasha looked directly into the camera, still smiling, as the phrase "The world belongs to those who know how to play their cards" appeared on the screen.

  "She's gorgeous..." Camila said, mesmerized. "And absurdly elegant."

  "Bet she knows exactly who to smile at behind the scenes," Sylvia retorted, eyes still on the screen.

  Camila glanced at her sideways, raising an eyebrow.

  "Jealous?"

  "Of someone that shallow? Never. But some people really know how to play the cards they're dealt."

  They laughed and made their way into a bustling alley filled with tiny restaurants with narrow counters, food stalls, and cramped bars where the scent of hot oil and grilled meat mixed with the hum of conversations and laughter. They sat at the counter of one small eatery and ordered two bowls of ramen. In the background, an old television played the local news.

  "...a plane crash claims the life of businessman Federico De Luca, owner of the Clover Group. The cause of the crash is still under investigation..."

  Camila tilted her head toward the screen, squinting.

  "That was really sudden, huh?"

  "Bet cleaning up the mess in his businesses is going to be hell," Sylvia said, picking up her chopsticks.

  She frowned slightly, unsure why, but the news bothered her more than it should have.

  "They say he was married to a girl almost our age."

  "Marrying a man forty years older just for money? Gross."

  Sylvia grimaced and took a bite, but stopped chewing. A chill ran down her spine.

  She slowly turned toward the alley entrance.

  Outside, on the sidewalk, a single crow watched her in silence. When their eyes met, it took flight, vanishing into the glowing night.

  "What happened?" Camila asked, noticing her fixed gaze.

  "Nothing," Sylvia replied, turning back to her ramen. "Just my imagination."

  —

  In the quiet dawn of Crownia, the children's playground felt like a place out of time. The empty swings creaked softly in the wind. No children. No lights in the windows. Only a man in a suit, alone, exhaling smoke and grief.

  Sebastian sat on a worn wooden bench, still in his crumpled suit from funeral. The cigarette between his fingers burned slowly. Smoke drifted into the cold air.

  "Been a while," said a voice behind him, stepping from the shadows of the trees.

  Sebastian turned his head, recognizing the slender silhouette approaching with calm steps.

  "You've grown, Mirio."

  Mirio smiled, unhurried.

  "And the old man's dead. Now what?"

  Sebastian took a long drag before replying:

  "Now the faction collapses. The other kings will pounce on the remains."

  Mirio kicked a small stone, watching it roll to a stop.

  "And the authority?"

  Sebastian took another drag, his gaze lost in the sand.

  "Not worth talking about." He flicked the cigarette to the ground and stamped it out.

  Mirio studied him in silence for a moment, weighing the words.

  "Crow already told ya, didn't he?"

  Sebastian stayed quiet, eyes fixed on the darkness ahead.

  "What if she can rebuild the Clubs faction?"

  Sebastian looked him in the eyes.

  "And you? What's in it for you?"

  Mirio gave a half-smile.

  "I'll manage. But if she rebuilds the faction, maybe I'll earn myself a shady little corner—well-paid, no real responsibility."