Chapter 99 Chapter 99 Elio is now in 1841...

Elio initially thought he was joking, but when he left the next day, he was surprised to find many of the injured's families surrounding him, shaking his hands and thanking him profusely, offering him food and lodging. Elio then reiterated Giotto's words, and they finally gave up their insistence. They still gratefully gave Elio plenty of fresh fruits and vegetables and bread. Elio could barely hold the gifts, and a passing militiaman offered him a ride back to Giotto's house.

Speaking of Giotto, he had disappeared that morning. When Elio asked about him, the militiamen gestured excitedly, telling him that Giotto was on the other side of town, directing the reconstruction of houses, running back and forth between the monastery and the residential area, busy collecting medicine for the wounded and helping to supply food to the improvised relief team.

Elio, upon hearing this, thought Giotto was incredibly busy. When the militia asked if he was going to see him, he quickly denied it and headed back toward the monastery. This had been his original destination, but he'd been interrupted by various "accidents" along the way. Along the way, he'd received gifts of almond flour, fruit, and lemonade from children, which Elio simply brought to the monastery.

Though he couldn't rekindle the fire from yesterday, Elio could still be of considerable assistance. The priest, short of help, was delighted to see him. He thanked him profusely and honestly offered his labor. While helping, Elio inquired about various matters in a roundabout way. The priest was not on guard, and Elio eventually learned a great deal, avoiding being completely in the dark in his unfamiliar surroundings.

But when Elio saw the year written on the monastery's bulletin, even though he was mentally prepared and knew that this was probably a time when he would be crucified and burned to death, he still felt dizzy.

There are two ways to record the year at this time. One is based on the reign of the king, which is the eleventh year of Ferdinand II's reign; the other is the AD calendar that Elio is more familiar with, starting from the birth of Jesus, marked "AD1841".

In other words, Elio is now in Sicily in 1841.

When he realized this, Elio wanted to throw the ring into the fire to torture it, but for some reason, the thing didn't make a sound. Elio calmed down and realized that this thing could not be burned by fire, so regretfully he didn't take action.

No matter how shaken he was, Elio had to stay here for a while. During this time, the houses in the town were slowly rebuilt and the town returned to its former vitality before the fire.

Although Giotto had told Elio not to help, Elio couldn't just sit by and watch everyone toil away, so he lent a great deal of help. This gradually allowed him to become familiar with the townspeople, and he even learned to speak Sicilian. He simply couldn't understand some of the overly localized slang and curse words, which Gatlin teased him as "a young master who knows nothing." Born into a lower class, Elio wanted to retort, but given his meticulous attention to cleanliness and his picky eating habits in this era over a century ago, he felt like an outlier in the eyes of his surroundings. He reluctantly accepted the teasing and playfully punched Giotto, who laughed heartily at him.

But regardless, putting aside the poor material conditions, Elio actually spent a relaxing and carefree time here. The sky here was a brilliant blue, like a bright gem on a clear day, and the clouds were softly white, like large balls of cotton candy. More importantly, the people in the town loved each other and were full of the unique Sicilian optimism. Even if they were broke, they would break their last Granola and share it with each other.

After the entire town was rebuilt, they couldn't wait to celebrate all day.

Early in the morning, Giotto dug out a faded shirt from the closet, happily put it on, and spun around in front of Gatlin and Elio, forcing them to praise him. Elio wanted to act like he was doing it normally, but Gatlin forced him into a chair and tried to comb his curly hair, which of course had no effect. Giotto, laughing, tried to slip out the door from behind them, but Elio quickly grabbed him and told Gatlin to "look at his messy hair too!"

Ignoring Giotto's arguments of "I made it that way" and "It looks more handsome this way," Gatlin gave him a good beating, perhaps revenge for the kick he'd received the night before. Elio simply watched, not daring to speak up for Giotto or admit that it was he who had kicked Gatlin in the face for his sleeplessness. He nonchalantly hummed a newly learned Sicilian tune and headed out the door.

As soon as he went out, he found that the people in the town were different from before. The other young men also showed off their holiday shirts, and their clean trouser legs were neatly tucked into old boots. The girls put on their treasured lace veils and loose dresses, and the various clothes merged into a joyful sea of ​​color.

The helpers hired by the church carried the holy image and staggered through the streets. The believers followed all the way, praying and throwing votive tablets at the statue. When the street vendor saw that it was Elio, he smiled and stuffed a piece of bread into his hand. Elio took a bite on the spot with the determination to break his teeth, and found with tears in his eyes that it was actually a sweet bread mixed with honey and raisins. Giotto, who followed, patted his shoulder sympathetically and comforted him, "I'm sorry for your hard work."

Gatlin added, "Young Master," but Elio, too busy savoring every bite of bread, didn't have time to retort. Then came the noontime feast in the square, where people tried their best to bring out the best food, even if it was just caponata, fried rice balls, sweet cheese rolls, and the most "luxurious" offerings were probably things like veal liver burgers. Elio nearly spit out his wine after taking the first sip, but he managed to finish the entire glass, having received it from the wounded he had healed.

The afternoon and evening were filled with chaotic revelry. A battered accordion and ocarina blared, and many unruly young men got drunk around the campfire. Elio almost became one of them. But when he realized Giotto and Gatlin had disappeared from his side, the assassin sobered up.

"…Patrols cannot stop for a moment," Gatlin whispered to the militia in the shadows, "We must remain vigilant at all times."

"Leave it to us tonight," Giotto arranged the shift change, "it's time for you to go and relax."

Giotto suddenly turned around and saw Elio following him, smiling the same way he did during the day.

"Go and have fun, Elio," said Giotto, "we'll keep you company."

"Guarding what?" Elio asked sternly. His expression was half shame for not realizing the danger, and half anger at Giotto's concealment. But Gatlin only caught the second half and turned to say, "I told you not to hide it from him, Giotto. He'll find out sooner or later."

"It's the Mafia that set fire to our town before," Giotto said. "I've been worried they'll come again."

Elio wondered, "Mafia?"

He naturally followed Giotto and the others and became a member of the patrol tonight. They gradually moved away from the bonfire party, and the noisy and exciting sounds seemed to gradually fade away, allowing the quiet night to return to them.

"They want to collect protection money from us," Gatlin said angrily, "even though they know that we have very little money left after being exploited by the landlords!"

"Before, we had been obediently paying money, thinking that this would buy them protection," Giotto said, "but the result was only to whet their appetites. That day, they asked Frank to sell them goods at a 90% discount. Frank refused, so he beat him half to death in the street, took his goods, and walked away."

His tone was much calmer than Gatlin's, but Elio could tell that beneath that calmness, there was a flame of sadness and anger burning.

"Afraid of their fists, the police did nothing," Gatlin said. "The doctor didn't dare come. And so, we watched Frank take his last breath."

They were silent for a while. The night was still.

“Sometimes I can’t help but wonder,” Giotto said, “if you had been there, things would have been different.”

Elio wordlessly placed a hand on his shoulder. Giotto smiled at his kindness, but just as he was about to comfort Elio, urging him not to take it too seriously, he saw a change in Elio's eyes. If Giotto had always considered him a friend of his own age, then at that moment, he saw a cold, hard darkness in Elio's heart, suddenly penetrating that outer shell.

"Someone's coming, Giotto," Elio whispered.

The only sounds around them were the rustling of leaves in the wind and the occasional meow of a nocturnal cat, sometimes near and sometimes far away. If they listened carefully, they might even hear the distant sounds of dance music from the square. Overall, nothing sounded out of place.

But Giotto immediately believed Elio and his expression became serious. Gatling also lifted his clothes without hesitation and drew out a folding knife.

"How many people?" Giotto simply asked.

"Seven," Elio said briefly. "Two coming along the east road, two just passed the monastery, and three are going through the olive groves."

The assassin was confident he could face any of the teams alone, even if they were bundled together and placed before him, without showing any fear. This was far simpler than any other situation he had ever faced. But the problem was, they were coming from three directions.

"Great, there are exactly three of us." Giotto's tone was surprisingly calm. "I'll set off for the olive grove right away. Gatlin, you go east and make sure to stop them outside. Elio, you go to the monastery, but you are not allowed to fight with them."

Gatlin nodded and vanished into the darkness. Elio was about to leave when he heard Giotto's last words and turned back, staring at him in disbelief. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't fight them," said Giotto gravely. "It's enough to sound the alarm."

Before Elio could question him, Giotto winked playfully at him. Then, without explaining anything, he ran off, heading for the olive grove. Elio couldn't stop him, so he quickly set off as well.

'When this evening is over,' Elio thought, 'I must have a good talk with him about this!'

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The author has something to say: *At this time, Sicily probably used the Piastra-Tari-Grana monetary system (not important but noted).