Chapter 10

Luca's POV

At eight o'clock sharp, three knocks came at the door, neither too light nor too heavy.

I put down my pen. By now, four or five cigarette butts had accumulated in the ashtray on the desk.

I don't actually smoke often, only when I'm waiting for someone do I smoke one after another.

Like waiting for a traitor to slip up, or waiting for someone I've been waiting for fifteen years to finally knock on my study door.

"Come in," I said loudly.

The door opened a crack, and Lina poked her head in.

She had changed out of her school uniform and into white loungewear, her hair loosely tied back, looking exceptionally relaxed. This appearance was completely different from yesterday when she stood among twenty-some people with eyes as cold as ice.

I guessed she probably came straight up from the apartment. Her hair was still wet, water dripping from the ends, leaving several dark circular spots on the floor.

"Sit." I couldn't help but curve my lips slightly, pointing to the chair across from the desk, signaling her to sit down. That was one I had specifically asked someone to bring in—softer than the other chairs in the study.

Lina walked over and sat down, placing a paper bag on the desk, carefully pulling out those test papers covered with annotations and spreading them flat in front of me.

"Let's begin." I picked up the pen and spun it once. "Let's start with the first problem. Where you went wrong on this problem is..."

I explained very slowly.

Actually, I had never tutored anyone before. In the Moretti family, no one asked me math problems. They only asked me "Should we kill this person," "Should we do this deal," "How should we handle this traitor."

I didn't even know how normal people taught others to solve problems. I could only write down every step I could think of, breaking it down step by step, like disassembling a gun, laying out every part in front of her.

Lina listened very seriously, her brows slightly furrowed, her pen tip scratching back and forth on scratch paper. The warm yellow light fell on her eyelashes, casting a small, shallow shadow.

I suddenly spaced out, remembering the first time I saw Lina.

That was at Antonio's birthday party.

Lina wore a red dress, walking in with her arm linked through Antonio's. She wore a perfectly appropriate smile on her face, but her gaze sharply swept over everyone present, finally landing on me.

The first second I made eye contact with her, I recognized her.

She looked too much like her mother—the same eyes, the same nose bridge, the same smile, the same wary gaze.

Fifteen years ago, I had seen that exact same gaze in the Volkov family's study.

That night, the godfather's daughter—Lina's mother—thrust infant Lina into my arms.

She stared at me intently and said, "Luca, please, take her away."

Before I could nod, gunfire erupted outside, and then she too was pierced through the chest by a bullet and lost her life.

I knew the Raven's people had already surrounded the entire house. If we went out directly, neither of us would survive. I decisively carried Lina and escaped through the house's secret passage.

At that time, I could barely protect myself. I could only first send Lina to an orphanage, planning to bring her back after I had stabilized.

However, when I returned to the orphanage three years later, Lina was already gone.

I used every means at my disposal to search for Lina's whereabouts. This search lasted fifteen years.

"Luca?" Lina's voice pulled me back to reality.

I came to my senses and saw Lina looking up at me, puzzlement in her eyes. "What did you just say? I didn't catch it."

"Nothing." I cleared my throat, covering up my momentary distraction, and pointed back at the problem on the test paper. "I said, here you should use the Pythagorean theorem, not the law of cosines."

She made a sound of acknowledgment and lowered her head to continue writing.

I looked at the top of her head, and suddenly an indescribable emotion welled up in my heart.

Fifteen years.

She grew up in the Raven's training camp, learned to kill, learned to endure, learned to lock all emotions in a cage.

She didn't know who her parents were, didn't know she had a home, and didn't know someone had been searching for her for fifteen years.

I could have told her the truth earlier.

On the night she assassinated Antonio, on the night she pointed a gun at my forehead, I could have told her everything.

But in the end, I still hesitated.

I was afraid Lina wouldn't believe me. I was afraid she would think I was just like Dmitri, only using her. I was afraid that after learning the truth, she would turn and leave and never come back.

So now I could only wait, wait for her to truly trust me, wait for her to be willing to talk to me.

"I still don't understand this problem," Lina suddenly spoke, pushing the scratch paper in front of me. "Why does it have to be calculated this way?"

I stood up and walked to Lina's side. Our distance suddenly became very close.

I could smell the faint scent of shampoo in her hair, could feel her warm breath brushing across the back of my hand as she breathed.

My heartbeat suddenly skipped a beat.

So I quickly looked away and picked up the pen to draw a diagram on the scratch paper.

The pen tip scratched across the paper, making a rustling sound.

"Look," I tried to make my voice sound calm, "if you complete this triangle into a rectangle, then..."

Lina leaned even closer, a strand of her hair falling down and sweeping across my wrist, like a feather, gently tickling my heart.

The pen in my hand paused for a moment, and a drop of ink fell onto the paper, spreading into a small black dot.

Lina seemed to sense something. She looked up.

Our gazes collided.

The study was very quiet, only the occasional sound of car horns from outside the window.

The warm yellow light enveloped both of us, forming a small world isolated from everything else.

Lina's eyes were beautiful, a very pale blue, like the water of the Arctic Ocean.

Those eyes were usually always cold, devoid of any emotion, but at this moment, they seemed to have stars twinkling inside—puzzlement, curiosity, and a trace of dependence.

Looking at Lina's eyes, I suddenly wanted very much to tell her everything.

Tell her who her parents were, tell her what happened fifteen years ago, tell her why I wanted to keep her by my side, tell her... I wanted to always stay by her side and protect her.

The words were right on the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed them back.

It wasn't time yet.

Dmitri was still watching her from the shadows. The Raven organization would send more people to kill her. Telling her the truth now would only put her in greater danger.

I looked away and picked up the mug on the desk, taking a sip as if to cover something up. The now-cold hot chocolate gave me an excuse to leave.

"The hot chocolate is cold. I'll go pour another cup." I stood up, trying to make my movements look natural.

Lina nodded and lowered her head to continue working on the problems.

I walked out of the study and closed the door behind me.

Leaning against the cold door panel, I took a deep breath and laughed at myself.

Luca Moretti, the man in power of the Moretti family, whose hands were stained with countless people's blood, who had long seen countless storms and waves, was now experiencing an accelerated heartbeat to this degree because of a girl's gaze.

When I returned to the study carrying the hot chocolate, I saw her standing in front of the bookshelf with her back to me, chin in hand, looking at the books on the shelf.

Hearing the sound of the door opening, Lina immediately turned to look at me. A flash of panic crossed her eyes.

"I... I was just tired from studying, just looking around." Lina lowered her head and quickly walked back to sit at the desk.

"It's fine." I placed the hot chocolate in front of her. "Take whatever you want to read. All the books on the shelf, you can read them."

She made a sound of acknowledgment, picked up the hot chocolate, and drank in small sips.

A minute later, Lina put down the hot chocolate. Just as I was preparing to continue tutoring her, she suddenly came out with a question.

"Luca, what should our relationship be right now?"

The moment Lina said this, my brain froze. My lips moved, feeling like my throat was being squeezed and I couldn't make a sound.

She looked up at me, then stood up and walked closer to me. "We..."

I took a deep breath, about to say something, when the phone on the desk suddenly vibrated.

"Are you sure you want her to know now?—D"

Alarm bells immediately went off in my head. Why would Dmitri send a message at this moment? Could there be eyes nearby?

Lina sensed something was wrong with me. She frowned. "Luca?"

I reached out and pulled Lina in, hiding with her in the space under the desk, my hand reaching for the gun at my waist.

I squinted and looked out the window. Sure enough, I saw a red dot flash by in the distance.

"Stay here and don't move." I lowered my voice.

Lina looked up at me in the darkness. Those pale blue eyes held no fear. Her hand had already reached for the dagger in her boot.

"How many people?" she asked.

"Not sure yet." I slowly moved toward the window, observing through a gap in the curtain. "Could be Dmitri bluffing as a warning, or could be for real."

I pressed the emergency button on my phone. Three seconds later, a lowered voice came through the security channel from downstairs in the apartment building. "Sir?"

"A3 direction, opposite rooftop, send people to check." I paused. "Don't alert them."

"Understood."

I put down the phone and looked at Lina, my back against the wall.

She was curled up under the desk, dagger in hand, like a young beast ready to pounce at any moment.

No, not a young beast—my thorned red rose.

Five minutes later, I received the report. "Sir, there's no one there. Only this was left behind."

A photo was scanned and sent over. I opened it on my phone. It was the scene of Theresa—Lina's mother—lying in a pool of blood in that room.

On the back of the photo, written in red pen, was a line of text: "Next, it's her turn."

I put away my phone as if nothing had happened and bent down to help Lina up.

"It's nothing, it was a false alarm."

Lina stood up and looked at me, her expression very serious. "You're lying."

"..."

She wanted to ask more questions, but I directly cut her off. "All right, Lina, it's getting late. Come do the test paper I made for you."

She was stunned for a moment, seeming not to have expected that at a time like this I would still have her do math problems, but she chose to accept the test paper.

Seeing Lina start on the test paper, I inexplicably breathed a sigh of relief and collapsed into the chair.

Half an hour later.

Lina handed me the test paper with a bitter expression. "I tried my best."

I took it and quickly scanned it.

Lina had high comprehension. The problems she did were basically all correct, with only one or two small questions where she miscalculated numbers.

"Very fast progress," I said.

"So is there still punishment?" Lina suddenly asked.

I was stunned for a moment, then laughed—not a superficial laugh, but the kind that truly came from the chest.

"So do you want it?"

Lina tilted her head. The collar of her hoodie slipped down a bit with her movement, revealing the pale white scar on her collarbone.

"What I actually want to know is," she said, "what do normal people get after doing well and being praised?"

I stood up, walked around the desk, and came in front of her.

Lina looked up at me. Those eyes looked moist under the light, holding no retreat, no fear, only pure curiosity.

I reached out my hand, palm against the back of Lina's head, fingers sliding into her half-wet hair.

"Like this," I said, then gently pressed down on the top of her head.

I could feel Lina's body obviously stiffen for an instant—this was the assassin's instinct, a stress response when the back of the neck was controlled.

However, Lina didn't move, didn't counterattack. She only blinked.

"...That's it?" She even looked somewhat disappointed.

"That's it." I withdrew my hand. "Patting the head is a way of praising."

Looking at Lina, I couldn't resist teasing her a bit. "What, you look a bit disappointed. Do you want more?"

Lina frowned in puzzlement, her left eyebrow moving slightly.

"It's strange," she said.

"What's strange?"

"Your palm is very hot." She paused. "And... I don't hate it."

I didn't speak, only looked at her quietly.

Lina seemed to realize her loss of composure and quickly lowered her head, pretending to organize the test papers.

"It's getting late. I'm going back." She stood up and put the test papers into the paper bag.

"Wait."

I called to her and picked up a black cashmere scarf from the sofa.

That was something I had specifically asked someone to buy this afternoon. It matched her coat very well.

"The temperature has dropped outside. Wear this when you go to school tomorrow." I walked over and handed the scarf to her.

Lina was startled, reached out and took the scarf. "Thank you."

Unexpectedly, she set the scarf aside and stepped closer to me.

Lina raised her hand and clasped the back of my head, just as I had done moments ago.

Then she applied slight pressure with her hand, bringing her forehead against mine.

"Why?" she asked, her voice very soft, like a snowflake.

"Why what?"

"Why is your heartbeat so fast?"

I should have pushed her away.

I should have told her "because you're an assassin and so am I—two assassins too close together triggers instinct."

I should have returned to that effortless, inscrutable calm.

But I didn't.

"Because you're here," I said.

Lina was silent for a long time, so long that I thought she would punch me in the face or pull away, using that "you all deserve to die" look to shut me out.

But instead she said, "I don't understand."

"Don't understand what?"

"Don't understand what 'because you're here' means." Lina's forehead was still pressed against mine. I could clearly feel our breaths intertwining with each other.

"In the Raven, if I got this close to someone, there was only one possibility—he was going to kill me, or I was going to kill him."

"Luca, what exactly do you want from me?"

What did I want?

This question was like a bullet, precisely hitting the place I least wanted to be hit.

I wanted you to stop asking why, stop analyzing my every motive, stop treating me like another Dmitri.

I wanted you to learn to smile, learn to be jealous, learn to call my name in nightmares instead of waking up and silently staring at the ceiling.

I wanted you to live like a real person, not like a blade ready to be unsheathed at any moment.

I wanted you...

"I want you to go back to sleep now," I said. "You have class tomorrow."

Lina let go and looked at me. That searching gaze lingered on my face for a few seconds.

Then she nodded and picked up the scarf again.

"Good night, Luca."

"Good night."

Lina walked toward the door. The hem of her hoodie swayed gently with her steps, like a bird moving with light movements.

The door closed.

I stood in place, listening to her footsteps gradually fade away until I couldn't hear them anymore.

Then I walked to the desk and picked up the mug she had just drunk from. The lip print from where she drank still remained on the rim.

I took the mug and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window. Cold wind rushed in, dispersing the last trace of her presence.

I looked down at my hand—the hand that had clasped the back of her head, the hand that had felt the warmth of her hair.

It was trembling.

Not from fear, but from something more primal, more dangerous.

I put the mug back on the desk and pulled out that photograph from my pocket.

In the photo was a woman holding a baby. The woman's eyes were the same pale blue as Lina's, as if they could see through all lies.

"Theresa, you entrusted her to me," I said to the photograph, my voice soft, "but I didn't protect her well. I'm sorry."

The woman in the photo smiled silently, the baby sleeping peacefully in her arms.

I lit a cigarette. The flame flickered once.

I picked up the pen and at the spot where the ink drop had spread earlier, I lightly drew a small red rose.

I looked at that rose and said in a low voice:

"Good night, my red rose."