They moved to the beach for the duel. Lookouts were posted in case the authorities appeared; even though they knew Giotto's status as a local landowner and businessman, illegal duels were still against the law. The lines between the underworld and the light of day were often blurred, yet distinct.
"Place your bets! One to five! One to five!" Marcello shouted, setting up a folding chair for Saya. She bit into a large apple he provided, watching as Giotto stood opposite Wilhelm, whose tanned skin and pale blue eyes stood out against the sea breeze.
Giotto, looking around at the bustling, cheerful town, felt a sense of peace. He waved at Saya, who was munching on her apple like a squirrel, which made him chuckle.
"We can wait until the betting is done before we start," Giotto said to Wilhelm, who was practically grinding his teeth. He had come here to kill, not to be part of a public show.
"Just pull your gun and end it, Boss!" one of Wilhelm's subordinates, a blue-haired boy, shouted.
"It's a matter of honor," Wilhelm retorted. "The Vongola Boss challenged me to a bare-knuckle duel. Shooting him now wouldn't be right."
"I thought the point was to kill him and take over Vongola?" the subordinate sighed, clutching his stomach in hunger.
Giotto laughed good-naturedly. "You seem close with your men."
"They're subordinates, but they're family," Wilhelm muttered, then shouted, "Why am I answering you!?"
"Is that so? Vongola is my family, too," Giotto said. "Why don't we stop this and go get something to eat? I'll treat you. You all look like you're starving."
"Giotto!" Wilhelm roared, lunging at him with a punch. Giotto dodged with fluid footwork. The onlookers watched, impressed.
"Primo's footwork has improved. It's only natural since I was the one who trained him," Knuckle critiqued from the sidelines, where Lampo was still fast asleep, drooling on his robes.
Saya poked Lampo's cheek, but he didn't budge. "He really is a sleepyhead," she whispered.
"He's a rascal that needs to be disciplined," G grunted, eyeing Saya and calculating. I need to discuss 'special cooperation' with Giotto.
After a long exchange, Giotto saw an opening. He side-stepped and landed a clean, precise strike to Wilhelm's nose. Wilhelm stumbled and fell. Giotto immediately knelt beside him. "Are you alright?"
"Next time... I'll take you down!" Wilhelm growled through blood.
Giotto leaned in. "If you want to fight, I'm ready—just no guns, no dirty tricks, and no innocent bystanders." He then softened his tone. "Before that, let's get to know each other. You have a deep grievance against us, don't you? Are you from the war zones? Is 'Wilhelm' a German name?"
"Because of mafias like you supporting the Catholic League against the Protestants! Vongola supports the war!" Wilhelm's subordinate, Anton, shouted.
"We are neutral," Giotto stated firmly. "We only provide aid to those suffering from the conflict. I have never donated a single coin to the war effort; my donations to Lord Francesco are strictly for the city's development."
"You're a liar! You're all the same!" the red-haired woman, Nadia, screamed.
Giotto sighed. "I cannot prove everything to you, but if you stay in this city, you will see the truth for yourselves. And tell me, how does what you did—extorting citizens and trying to kill me to steal power—make you any different from the ones you despise?"
The group fell silent. In that moment, Anton looked into Giotto's eyes and saw no rage—only a strange, piercing empathy.
"I know you're hungry. I won't force my charity on you," Giotto said, rising. "But if you stay here without causing trouble, you'll find that the people here are kind. As for you, Anton... to me, you aren't enemies. You're just people struggling to survive in a cruel world."
Knuckle stepped forward, his priestly aura commanding attention. "Lies and manipulation are the work of demons. Are you certain Vongola is behind the war, or is it merely local gangs like the Nocjuna Famiglia shifting the blame?"
The group wavered. The youngest of them, Frank, sighed. "He's right. We only heard rumors. We don't have proof."
Giotto turned to them. "If you don't cause trouble, you won't be sent to Lord Francesco. There's work in the textile and fishing industries. Stay at the church, get some food, and let the doctor look at your injured friend, Thomas."
As the group left, led by the doctor, G sighed. "You're too soft, Giotto."
"It's what makes him Primo," Knuckle smiled.
...
...
Later, at the Restaurant
Saya sat with Giotto, G, and Kevin. She barely touched her sea urchin spaghetti.
"Not to your liking?" Giotto asked.
"I had too many apples," she laughed sheepishly.
Giotto called the waiter. "Bring her some mint tea for the indigestion." He turned to G. "I want you to support Leyla's perfume venture."
G stared. "Are you serious? What's your plan?"
"I have no plan," Giotto said, nodding toward Saya. "But she does."
"I don't even know how to dissolve the camphor yet!" Saya protested.
Giotto smiled. "I'll assign you an assistant. But in return, I expect results. This perfume will be a special formula, exclusive to our city and Vongola."
As the two smiled cryptically, G's brow twitched. That woman... she must be a witch casting a spell on Giotto!