Chapter 105 Chapter 105 By then, Qiao Tuo, you will be Peng...
The scene was silent.
Elio was stunned, Gatlin was puzzled, Rambo was still digesting it, Nakel was thoughtful (he seemed to be really thinking about what name to change the self-defense group to), only Arnold's face suddenly turned pale, as if covered by ice and snow, and he stood up immediately.
"Not interested," he said. "If you had told me earlier, I wouldn't have come."
Seeing him leave, Gatlin, about to criticize Giotto for causing trouble, shifted his focus and criticized Arnold for his lack of team spirit. Elio thought that was like criticizing vegetarians for not eating meat, but Gatlin turned around and grabbed Elio, demanding his opinion. Elio had no choice but to ask Arnold to stay a little longer, while simultaneously glaring at Giotto.
Giotto rubbed his head awkwardly as he approached them. Rambo and Nakel were enthusiastically discussing a name. They'd been using the "Giotto" banner for a while now, and simply saying "Giotto's people" was enough to identify them. Apparently, Giotto didn't like this approach.
"We are a collective..." Giotto had just finished saying this when he saw Arnold's face turn even worse. He quickly added, "We are friends! We are a group of friends..."
"You meant 'family,'" Elio found the word for him.
"Yes!" Giotto breathed a sigh of relief. "We are a family that is not related by blood, but we trust each other."
"I don't think so," Arnold said coldly. "Are you done with your nonsense?"
Gatlin was about to charge. Elio struggled to hold onto his waist.
"Listen to me, Arnold," Giotto said, smiling knowingly. "I'm going to say more later." He paused briefly, considerately giving Arnold room to object, but this time, Arnold said nothing. He simply stood by the farthest window, looking out the tree with a look of disinterest.
"...Each of you has made a considerable contribution to our family," Giotto smiled. "You could even say that without any of you, we probably wouldn't be where we are today. So when others mention 'Giotto', they mean 'Giotto and his friends' and everything we have done. I hope there is a name that is not Giotto, but includes Giotto, and can include all of us."
Elio looked at him and smiled. This was indeed the same Giotto he had always known.
"So, I think we need a name," Giotto said gently, "a name that represents 'us', not 'Team Giotto'."
This man, who truly united everyone in the room, was speaking with some truly generous words. They were all silent for a moment, then each reacted in his own way. Gatlin joined in with his name suggestions, and Giotto listened with a smile. Elio, who considered himself untalented in naming, simply sat there, smiling, and thought about how they had come to this point.
When he accidentally glanced at Arnold, Elio saw that Arnold was also looking at Giotto, the center of the room. Their eyes met briefly.
Elio hadn't been familiar with the intelligence chief. He kept to himself, his expression stern, and he communicated almost exclusively with Giotto, making him the only person anyone else knew of. But Elio did know that his presence was a miracle. After all, he was an Austrian intelligence agent sent to gather information about Sicily. If Elio were alone, he would hardly trust Arnold. But Giotto trusted him, and so did Elio. The same was true for everyone else in the room.
Elio smiled at him. Then, Elio looked away and joined the discussion about the name of the self-defense group. In fact, in just a few words, this discussion had already slipped into an abyss of imagination and creativity. Rambo was suggesting that they should be called "Pasta", and Knuckle suggested that they could be called "Tomato". Gatlin, unable to bear it, overruled them both, insisting that he would never tolerate a family named after food, and then proposed that they should be called "Brotherhood of the Fire of Etna".
"Or something like 'Shadow Guard of the Plantagenet Dynasty,'" Gatling added.
Rambo didn't dare say a word, but his expression was indescribable. Nakel, noticing their "too childish" vibe, said bluntly, "This is too long! People won't be able to remember it."
"Then the 'Alliance of Sons of Titan' should be fine." Gatlin gave in reluctantly.
Giotto slumped behind Elio, hiding his trembling face from laughter. Elio, facing Gatlin's questioning gaze, scratched his cheek, hesitant to speak, "I think it's still a little long, not catchy enough."
"'Iron Fist of Justice'?" Gatling asked.
"Well……"
Unable to resist, Elio reached back and lifted up the trembling Giotto. Having finally stopped laughing, Giotto struggled to maintain a serious expression and shook his head sternly at Gatlin. Gatlin, completely unaware of Giotto's smirk, frowned in confusion and continued to study other names.
"What do you think, Elio?" Giotto asked.
Elio thought it would be nice if they could be called "Cult of the Flying Spaghetti God" or "Cult of the Earth Cats." But he was worried that his name might be approved, so he shook his head cautiously.
"I have no talent for naming," said Elio.
"Arnold?" Giotto then asked again.
Arnold said, "I have no imagination."
"Tell me!" Giotto encouraged him.
"Might as well just call it 'Team Giotto,'" Arnold pointed out. "Or, if you want, you can add a last name after your first name."
That was an idea. They could name the family after Giotto and add Giotto's last name to their own names. Arnold declined, but Rambo enthusiastically suggested, "Giotto, take my last name! I'd be happy to share 'Bovino' with you!"
Gatlin knocked him on the head. "Then it becomes Luca's family. Dismissed."
Rambo held his head in his hands and lowered his head. Knuckle had already begun searching for surnames in the Bible he carried with him, reading through them one by one. "St. Paul? St. John?"
"Thank you, Knuckle," Giotto shook his head, "but I don't think I deserve such a name yet."
Nakel read on, "Holy Mother Mary..."
Giotto interrupted him quickly, "This is even worse."
The naming process reached an impasse. Giotto insisted on a name that "everyone would agree on and like." So, when Elio finally suggested his "Cult of the Flying Spaghetti Gods" or "Cult of the Earth Cats," Arnold unexpectedly inquired about the latter concept and joined the cult on the spot, expressing his love for it. However, Giotto regretfully rejected it, as Gatlin thought it was "too uninspiring."
"Luckily there are only six of us now," Lan Bao muttered, "Once more people join us, I'm afraid it will only become more difficult to come up with names!"
"'Only' six people?" Arnold frowned.
"There will be more people," Giotto said with a smile, "as long as it is not necessary, I will try my best to convey it to you." However, considering that they could not come up with a name for the time being, Giotto suggested that they put this agenda on hold and decide later during dinner.
"There's one more thing I want you to know," Giotto said seriously, "I've recently discovered that simply being a 'self-defense group' doesn't seem to be enough to protect the people we want to protect. Maybe one day, we'll turn into the Mafia. But I promise you..."
"It will never turn into that kind of mafia." Gatlin continued, "Don't worry, don't we know you?"
"That kind of mafia?" Lan Bao asked confusedly.
"That kind of mafia that abandons justice and pursues profit only, even at the cost of blood." Arnold said, "I will always be watching you, Giotto. If one day you become a 'leader' like that, I will arrest you without hesitation."
Gatlin hissed, "Where do you get the authority to enforce the law?" But Giotto looked at Arnold and smiled a reassuring smile. He glanced around the room, and everyone expressed understanding and agreement. Perhaps, in fact, he was the only one who couldn't get over it.
"Please keep your eyes on me," said Giotto, "as my most trusted friend, and as one who has the greatest faith in me!"
At mealtime, they filed out and into the dining room. Arnold didn't leave immediately, but for once, he joined the group and ate quietly. As Giotto rolled up his portion of spaghetti with clams, he suddenly exclaimed, "'Clams!' How's that?"
"Clams?" Gatlin said, puzzled but cooperative. "They're very fresh."
"It's delicious!" Lan Bao praised vaguely.
Elio raised an eyebrow. He looked at Giotto, who was smiling and asking, "You all like clams, right?"
"Who doesn't like clams!" said Knuckles.
Arnold, a foreigner, also tacitly agrees. Clam pasta cooked in garlic and olive oil, sprinkled with fresh parsley, paired with a glass of fruity white wine, is a Sicilian classic that no one can resist.
"How about we call it Clams?" said Giotto. "Everyone likes it."
There was another moment of silence. Elio chuckled, but everyone else assumed he just found the name funny—they all thought so. Rambo and Knuckle didn't have much of an issue with it; one had the last name "Bovino" and the other the title "Priest." Only Gatlin was arguing, "I don't want to be called Gatlin Clam!"
"Gatlin 'Vongola' isn't bad either," Giotto said with a smile, even though 'Vongola' was just the same pronunciation of a clam. "I'm Giotto Vongola too."
Gatlin, unable to accept that people in their twenties could suddenly be turned into food, shouted, "Elio! Give me some advice!"
"Well," Elio said cautiously, "on the bright side, the name 'Vongola' might even earn you a title of nobility. Then, Giotto, you'll be the first Vongola."
"The first clam?" Gatling said. "I tell you, I'm not going to—"
The next day, the door of his room was the first to be replaced with the doorplate "G.V".
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The author has something to say: Oreo (hesitant to speak): This is not right.
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