A few days ago…
Ogre and Genco shared a glass of wine at a birthday celebration hosted by Vito. Much of the district had gathered, filling the streets with conversation, laughter, and the aroma of homemade food. Long tables lined the street while children ran between groups of adults. Some guests arrived early with gifts, wine, or dishes to share, while others declined due to work or family obligations.
As usual, Vito had invited Ogre. In the past, he would have ignored such an invitation without hesitation. Social gatherings, especially those hosted by ordinary people, had never interested him. To the old Ogre, attending a modest neighborhood celebration would have seemed unthinkable.
Yet that was the old Ogre.
The truth was that the old Ogre had rarely been invited anywhere. People feared him too much to welcome him into their homes or celebrations. Wherever he went, conversations stopped, doors closed, and parents hurried their children away. Fear and obedience were familiar to him, but genuine hospitality was not.
So when Vito personally invited him, Ogre felt something unfamiliar stir inside. It was a simple gesture, yet it meant more than he expected. He accepted quickly, hiding his reaction behind his usual stern expression while quietly feeling a sense of excitement he would never admit.
Most people preferred to keep their distance. His imposing presence and the stories surrounding his name inspired fear—tales of harsh judgments, executions, and punishments that had earned him a title that followed him everywhere: the Demon.
To many people, that title was all they knew.
They did not know the man behind it. They knew only the rumors, the whispers, and the frightening image that had grown larger with every retelling. Over time, the legend had become more recognizable than the person himself.
But within Little Italy, that so-called Demon seemed to disappear.
Here, Ogre sat among ordinary people, sharing drinks and conversation as though he had always belonged there. He listened patiently to elderly men recount stories from decades past, occasionally nodding or offering a brief comment that encouraged them to continue. He exchanged remarks with workers returning from long days of labor, discussing everything from local news to harmless neighborhood gossip. He even tolerated the constant chaos created by children racing through the gathering with endless energy, weaving between tables and nearly colliding with guests every few minutes.
There was no fear in their eyes.
Instead, there was familiarity.
Some greeted him with a casual wave. Others stopped to exchange a few words before moving on. A few even addressed him by name as though he were simply another neighbor attending the celebration rather than one of the most feared men in the city. No one seemed concerned about his reputation. No one treated him like a monster.
And perhaps that was precisely why he kept returning.
Anyone passing through the district and catching sight of him would likely stop in disbelief. The scene before them would contradict everything they thought they knew about the man.
Him? The infamous "Ogre the Demon"?
Sitting among common folk with a glass of wine in hand, quietly laughing at a joke told by an old laborer? Sharing food with families and speaking casually with merchants, craftsmen, and dockworkers as though social rank meant nothing at all?
The very idea would sound absurd.
Many would assume they were mistaken.
Others might believe they were witnessing some elaborate deception.
Yet there he was, doing exactly that.
Not because he was pretending to be someone else, but because this side of him had always existed beneath the reputation. Few people had ever cared enough to look beyond the fear and discover it.
Perhaps reputation was not always the whole truth. Perhaps people became different when surrounded by those who treated them as human beings rather than monsters. Or perhaps Little Italy possessed a strange quality that allowed it to reveal parts of people that the rest of the world never bothered to see.
Whatever the reason, the transformation was undeniable.
The feared Demon of countless stories sat comfortably among his neighbors, sharing wine beneath the painted hues of the evening sky while laughter and cheerful conversation drifted through the streets around him. Lanterns glowed warmly from nearby homes, and the festive atmosphere felt worlds apart from the terrifying legends that had once followed his name.
"Cent'anni," Genco declared, raising his glass high in a spirited toast.
"Cent'anni?" Ogre asked, tilting his head in confusion.
"It means best wishes for a hundred years, or something close to that according to Vito's tongue," Genco explained with a grin.
"Huh. That's a rather unusual blessing for a celebrant," Ogre remarked. "Especially when you're in the heart of the Empire."
"Agreed," Genco replied.
The two shared a hearty laugh before taking another drink. Ogre paused to savor the wine, pleasantly surprised by its depth and smooth finish. He complimented it openly, noting that its rich flavor surpassed any alcohol he had ever tasted—a rare praise from someone who had sampled countless drinks across centuries.
Genco smiled at the remark, clearly pleased by the approval. Coming from anyone else, such words would have been flattering. Coming from Ogre, they felt like a genuine achievement.
"I'm glad you like it," Genco replied. "We've been experimenting with different suppliers and storage methods. It took a lot of trial and error before we found something that felt right."
"Well, whatever you're doing, keep doing it," Ogre said with a chuckle before taking another sip. "I've passed through enough taverns, feast halls, and roadside celebrations to know a good drink when I taste it. Somehow this manages to outshine most of them."
The compliment lingered between them for a moment before Ogre's expression gradually turned thoughtful. He set his glass down on the table and leaned back slightly in his chair.
"Speaking of which, about your growing business," Ogre said, shifting the conversation.
Genco's attention sharpened at once. The relaxed atmosphere remained, but he could tell that Ogre was steering the discussion toward something more serious.
"I really admire what you and your partners have built. Hell, you even managed to rope me into it."
A faint grin appeared on Genco's face.
"I appreciate the compliment."
"No, I mean it," Ogre continued. "Most people spend their lives waiting for opportunities to fall into their laps. You and your partners went out and created your own. That's not something I see very often. You've managed to build something meaningful despite starting with far fewer advantages than the people you're competing against."
Genco nodded quietly. The journey had been anything but easy. Every step forward had demanded careful planning, long nights, and more than a few risks that could have ended in disaster.
"Thank you. But you have to remember, you're still in the Empire. If a noble or merchant sees your success as a threat to their own ambitions, they won't hesitate to tear everything you've built apart."
The warmth in Ogre's voice faded slightly as he spoke. His words were not criticism, but a warning born from experience.
Genco immediately understood.
The Empire rewarded success, but it also bred fierce competition. Wealth and influence attracted attention, and attention often brought enemies.
"And in your current position, you lack the connections necessary to protect yourselves from that."
Ogre tapped a finger lightly against the side of his glass.
"Money can solve many problems," he continued, "but influence solves the ones money can't. The people at the top don't stay there because they're richer than everyone else. They stay there because they know the right people, owe favors to the right people, and can call upon support when trouble comes knocking."
"I know. We talked about it with Vito and the others over dinner. The more we grow, the more attention we attract—and not all of it is the kind we want."
Both men understood the consequences of carving out a place for themselves within the Empire, especially when powerful nobles were already vying for influence at the highest levels.
Genco let out a slow breath.
"At first, we were worried about keeping the business afloat," he admitted. "Now we're worried about who might notice that we've succeeded. It's a different kind of problem, but a dangerous one all the same."
"That's the nature of growth," Ogre replied. "The higher you climb, the more visible you become. Eventually, someone will decide you're standing where they want to stand."
For a brief moment, silence settled between them. The crackling of a nearby fireplace and the distant sounds of activity outside filled the gap.
"Well, in that case," Ogre finally said, breaking the silence, "I might know someone you could approach as a starting point."
A knowing smile spread across Ogre's face as he lifted his glass once more, taking a slow sip before setting it back down. The expression suggested he had been considering this possibility for some time.
"Seems that our guest has offered a helping hand."
Vito suddenly chimed in as he approached the pair, having just finished welcoming the last of the arriving guests. His tone carried a hint of amusement, but there was also genuine interest behind his words.
"Glad to be able to help, Vito-dono."
Ogre immediately bowed his head respectfully toward the Don before straightening himself and continuing.
"You all should be aware that there's opposition within Prime Minister Honest's regime. Not everyone in the Capital agrees with the way he runs things. One of the more notable figures among them is Chouri. He may not possess the same level of prestige or influence that Honest enjoys, but he should have enough political backing and public support to help keep this district afloat for as long as you need."
Vito and Genco listened intently. Neither interrupted him. The suggestion was unexpected, but it was also the first practical lead they had been given regarding potential allies within the Empire's political sphere.
"As far as I remember," Genco said after a moment of thought, "he's the one who openly opposes Honest for all the nonsense he's brought upon the Capital, right? From what I've heard through the black market, he's more of a 'man of the masses' type."
The rumors surrounding Chouri had spread far beyond noble circles. Even among merchants, smugglers, and underground brokers, his reputation was known. Unlike many politicians, he was said to spend time listening to ordinary citizens rather than hiding behind palace walls.
"Yes," Ogre replied with a nod. "He's extremely popular among commoners. In fact, there are quite a few nobles who support him as well—particularly those who have grown tired of Honest's corruption and abuse of power. The only problem is—"
"For all the good intentions he has, he lacks a strong force to protect him."
Tatsumi cut Ogre off as he approached the group, curiosity having drawn him toward their discussion. Judging by the look on his face, he had already pieced together where the conversation was heading.
Ogre glanced at him and nodded in agreement.
"Exactly."
Tatsumi folded his arms.
"Chouri has supporters, influence, and a good reputation. But none of that matters if he can't defend himself. Honest has powerful allies, military connections, and people willing to eliminate threats before they become serious problems. Chouri doesn't have that luxury."
Vito's smile widened as the implications became clear.
"And that's where we're supposed to come in, correct?"
"Exactly," Ogre repeated. "The two of you seem to share many of the same concerns as the ordinary citizens of the Empire. You both want stability, prosperity, and protection for the people under your care. Chouri wants much the same thing. It would be beneficial for the two sides to meet and discuss matters directly. Perhaps you could work out some sort of arrangement."
The suggestion lingered in the air.
A partnership between their organization and a rising political figure could provide advantages for both sides. Chouri would gain access to capable protectors and resources, while Vito's district would gain a powerful advocate within the Empire's government.
Still, Ogre's expression soon grew more serious.
"The only problem," he continued, "is that your organization is severely lacking in firepower."
The room fell quiet once more.
"Tatsumi and Gauri are certainly capable," Ogre said, glancing toward the young swordsman. "They're strong enough to serve as your sword and shield in most situations. But if you intend to involve yourselves in Imperial politics, that won't be enough."
His voice lowered slightly.
"Even if I choose to support you, there are still others above me who possess far greater strength. Some of them are monsters in their own right. If Honest decides that Chouri has become a genuine threat, he won't hesitate to send powerful individuals after him."
Vito's smile faded as he considered the warning.
Genco frowned as well. He had expected obstacles, but hearing it stated so plainly made the situation feel far more dangerous.
"You're saying that if we back Chouri," Genco said slowly, "we'll eventually have to deal with the Empire's heavy hitters."
"Most likely," Ogre answered without hesitation. "Politics in the Capital are rarely settled through debate alone. Influence attracts enemies. The moment Chouri gains enough momentum to challenge Honest, people will begin looking for ways to silence him."
Tatsumi remained silent, but his expression hardened.
He understood exactly what Ogre meant.
Strength was the language of the Empire. It was the one truth that governed everything, from the highest levels of government to the poorest villages struggling to survive beyond the capital's walls. Laws could be twisted. Justice could be bought. Ideals could inspire people for a time.
But power decided whose voice would ultimately be heard.
No matter how noble someone's beliefs were, no matter how sincere their desire to help others might be, those convictions meant little if they lacked the strength to protect them. Sooner or later, anyone who wished to change something would be forced to confront that reality.
Tatsumi knew it better than most.
He had left his village dreaming of earning enough money to rescue his people from poverty. Along the way, he had learned countless harsh lessons about the Empire and the world beyond his home. Time and again, he had witnessed the strong impose their will upon the weak.
His silence was not born of disagreement.
It was acceptance.
Ogre noticed the look in the young man's eyes and gave a small nod before continuing.
"Fortunately," he said, leaning back slightly in his chair, "I already have someone in mind."
The statement immediately captured everyone's attention.
"Really?" Vito replied with a grin. "Do tell, mio amico."
A trace of pride appeared on Ogre's face.
"I have a protégé," he explained. "She's young, but she's a capable fighter—around the same age as Tatsumi. I've personally overseen much of her training."
His tone remained steady, though a subtle warmth beneath it had not been present before.
"She lost her father in the line of duty several years ago," Ogre continued. "Afterward, I took her under my wing. Since then, she's worked tirelessly to improve herself. She's disciplined, loyal, and determined to uphold justice."
As he spoke, Ogre seemed to choose his words with unusual care.
He went on to describe her accomplishments, highlighting her dedication to training and her unwavering commitment to her duties. Yet despite the praise, there was something peculiar about the way he presented the information.
Every so often, he would pause before continuing.
At other moments, he appeared to reconsider his phrasing before speaking.
The hesitation was subtle enough that most people might have missed it.
Vito did not.
The mafia boss watched Ogre closely, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly. The veteran officer was clearly withholding something.
As though there were details he preferred not to mention.
As though he were carefully steering around certain aspects of his protégé's personality.
The observation lingered in Vito's mind for a moment.
Still, he chose not to press the matter.
Whatever Ogre was concealing was hardly his concern at the moment. Everyone had secrets, and every recommendation came with its own complications. What mattered was whether this mysterious protégé could fulfill the role being discussed.
Everything else could wait.
At least for now.
"Oh?" Genco said, leaning forward with visible interest. "And who might that be?"
The room grew noticeably quieter.
Even Tatsumi found himself curious.
Anyone capable of earning such praise from Ogre had to be someone exceptional.
Ogre glanced around the table before answering.
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, carrying a blend of confidence and amusement.
Then he revealed the name.
"Her name is Seryu Ubiquitous."
Ogre and Seryu entered Vito's home with the ease of people who had done so many times before. Neither paused at the doorway, and neither bothered with formalities. To an outside observer, they might have looked like regular visitors dropping by a friend's house rather than members of the Imperial Police.
The moment he stepped inside, Ogre's sharp eyes swept across the room and immediately picked up on the changes.
"Hah. Since when did you turn your inn into a little bar?" he scoffed, directing the comment toward Gauri.
Despite the words, there was no real criticism behind them. If anything, he sounded amused.
"Ahh, well, those merchants just won't stop giving us gifts like these," Genco replied before Gauri could answer. "We figured we might as well put them to good use. And it's not a bar, either. Some ambitious fool might mistake it for a sign of rebellion."
As he spoke, Genco emerged from behind the counter carrying a bottle and several glasses.
The difference between the man standing there now and the broken shell they had first met was striking.
Gone was the despair-ridden Genco who had wandered through life after Aria's death, burdened by grief and guilt. The hopelessness that had once weighed down his shoulders had vanished. His confidence had returned, and with it came a vitality that made him seem years younger. It was as though time itself had reversed slightly, restoring some of what tragedy had stolen from him.
"Yeah, yeah, I get it," Ogre replied with a dismissive wave.
On that particular point, at least, he agreed completely. Yet rather than appearing cautious or nervous about the subject, he looked irritated.
The Empire's obsession with rooting out dissent had long since become tiresome to him. The mere suggestion that a few bottles of wine and a counter could be interpreted as rebellion seemed absurd enough to annoy him.
"Oi, where's that boy?" Ogre asked after taking a seat.
There was no need to specify who he meant.
Everyone present knew he was referring to Tatsumi.
"He's down at the docks," Genco answered while pouring wine into a glass and handing it over. "Vito-dono had some errands for him."
Ogre accepted the drink without hesitation.
Meanwhile, Genco turned toward Gauri.
"And you, don't just stand around by the door. Someone might actually mistake this place for a tavern, for God's sake. We don't need that kind of attention."
"What the hell am I supposed to do?" Gauri shot back.
Looking only mildly annoyed, Genco walked over to him.
A smile appeared on his face.
Unfortunately for Gauri, it was not the warm, reassuring kind.
It was the sort of smile that made grown men suddenly reconsider every decision that had led them to that moment.
"How about you make some cannoli for our guest?" Genco whispered into Gauri's ear.
His eyes subtly shifted toward Seryu.
Gauri followed his gaze and immediately understood.
"...Right."
Meanwhile, the girl in question had absolutely no idea what was happening around her.
In truth, she barely noticed the conversation at all.
Ever since witnessing what Ogre had done to that thief, her thoughts had been in complete disarray.
The image refused to leave her mind.
She had watched Ogre punish criminals countless times before. He had always acted decisively, delivering justice without hesitation or mercy.
That was how things were supposed to be.
Criminals committed evil.
The law punished evil.
Simple.
Absolute.
Correct.
Yet the thief had shattered that certainty.
Instead of crushing him beneath the weight of Imperial justice, Ogre had spared him. More than that, he had given the man an opportunity to rebuild his life.
At the time, Seryu had been unable to comprehend it.
*What madness is this? *she had wondered.
The question had lingered ever since.
Then they arrived in Little Italy.
There, things had only become more confusing.
She had expected fear.
Respect.
Submission.
That was how ordinary citizens were supposed to behave around someone of Ogre's rank.
Instead, she found people speaking to him casually.
Laughing with him. Arguing with him.
Treating him as an equal.
In her eyes, such behavior should have been unacceptable.
Disrespectful.
Potentially criminal.
Yet every time the familiar urge to punish those "evildoers" surfaced, something stopped her.
Doubt.
A tiny crack had formed in the foundation of her beliefs, and no matter how hard she tried, she could not ignore it.
These people... these... these evildoers...
Her thoughts twisted into knots.
They have no right to treat him like that.
They have no right to act as though they're above him.
They should be punished.
So why...
Why does Captain Ogre allow it?
Why does he make it seem normal?
And now things had become even worse for her. After arriving at Vito's home, she watched Ogre casually sit down and share a drink with Genco.
A commoner.
Not a noble.
Not an officer.
Not someone with authority.
Just a common man.
And Ogre treated him like a friend.
Like an equal.
Like someone whose company he genuinely enjoyed.
The sight struck Seryu harder than any battlefield ever had.
Her eyes widened. Her breathing grew uneven. Her entire worldview felt as though it were being dragged apart piece by piece.
WHAT IS GOING ON!?
The scream echoed through her mind.
She stared at the scene in utter disbelief. The confusion, frustration, and anxiety building inside her demanded an outlet.
Her fists clenched tighter and tighter. Her nails dug into her palms. Then deeper.
Until blood began to drip from between her fingers.
Beside her, Koro noticed immediately. The teigu's ears flattened against his head. A worried whimper escaped him as he looked up at his partner.
"Seryu."
Ogre's voice cut through the chaos in her mind. Instantly, she snapped back to reality.
"Huh?"
"Seryu, why don't you take a seat over there?" Ogre said, gesturing toward a nearby table. "Someone's going to bring you something."
For a brief moment, she simply stared at him.
Then all the turmoil vanished beneath years of conditioned obedience.
"Uh... yes, Captain Ogre."
She answered immediately.
The words came out slightly awkwardly, and she stumbled over them before quickly moving to comply.
As she hurried toward the indicated seat, she kept her eyes lowered. Not because she was embarrassed. Not because she was afraid.
But because she still had no idea how to process what she had just witnessed.
*Seryu, calm down… this isn't you. You shouldn't be doubting the one who raised you. *Her thoughts raced with that in mind repeatedly as she tries to cover her bleeding palm with her own hands
Out of nowhere, a middle aged man approached her with two plates of cannoli in each hand. She looked up at him
That was not the man she knew as Gauri.
"Signorina… you know a food can calm a person's mind when she's clouded by doubts" the old man speaks to her as she takes a seat opposite her, placing the plates on the table
"Who are you?"
The old man simply smiled gently at her. There was no hidden intent in that smile. Only sincerity
"You can call me Vito"