Chapter 116 Chapter 116 The instructor invites you to come over, Vongola...
The Triskelion Inn is a gathering place for talented people from all over Sicily.
Partly because it's not uncommon for anyone to be around the inn, and partly because of the triskelion on the inn's sign. Whenever it sways in the wind, as they gather under this time-honored symbol of Sicily's soul, they smile at each other with hope and pride, witnessing a tiny glimmer of shared ideals in these dark times.
With such a secret smile, Giotto also walked into the Triskelion Hotel today.
Since the Vongola's rise and growth, Giotto had been secretly supporting Giuseppe Mazzini's underground activities. They often met here in secret, discussing matters that could not be overheard by the higher-ups and their spies. If Giotto had initially thought it was just a coincidence, then after a while, he was almost certain that it could not be a coincidence.
"I'd like to meet the boss here, Giuseppe!" Giotto said in a low voice. "I have no doubt that he must be our ally."
"Isn't the boss behind the counter?"
"You know I'm telling the truth."
Giuseppe, who was being pulled by him, rubbed his nose in a rare moment of embarrassment. He even seemed to be considering changing the subject, but in the end, under Giotto's intense gaze, he sighed helplessly and gestured to speak to him aside.
"The real 'boss' here hardly ever shows up," Giuseppe told him. "From what I've seen, he rarely goes out. But if you want to meet him, just ask anyone to tell him—no, no, no, not just anyone! They have characteristics, Giotto!"
Giotto said he was all ears. Giuseppe then described to him how they were "wearing hoods" and "robes," which should have made them conspicuous, but somehow they managed to blend in easily without being noticed.
“You have to know they’re dressed that way,” Giuseppe said, “and then you’ll find they’re almost always easy to spot in a crowd.”
Giotto expressed his willingness to learn.
“But don’t pull their wrists,” Giuseppe warned. “They don’t like that. If there’s any problem, just say I sent them.”
After discussing other matters, Giuseppe quickly regained his spirits and left the Triskelion. Giotto remained in a corner, carefully observing the guests coming and going. There were groups of people discussing business, some skipping work to drink, and a few of Giuseppe's followers. Giuseppe knew them all, and they exchanged a few words briefly. But soon, a figure emerged from the kitchen.
Giotto, drinking from his back, had barely noticed him. But the instant he set his glass down and leveled his gaze, he saw the hooded figure in the white robe—white! It was unbelievable, as if others were almost blind!—and then he realized that Giuseppe's words were as genuine as he was.
The white-robed figure blended into the crowd, gently brushing past others' shoulders and bodies like a drop of water swimming in the ocean. No one noticed him, as if he naturally belonged there. Giotto couldn't help but let out a look of amazement, even leaning forward, ready to reach out and greet the man; but gradually, Giotto's expression turned suspicious.
The Vongola leader, known for his intuition but actually possessing unusually sharp observation skills, stared suspiciously at the lower half of the face that was barely visible beneath the hood. As he walked, Giotto even thought he saw the familiar scar on the left side of his face.
The white-robed figure passing through the crowd seemed to have seen him as well, and exchanged glances with him from a distance under his hood; although he couldn't see his face clearly, Giotto quickly came to a conclusion, and his expression suddenly became subtle.
He no longer intended to greet the man in white. Giotto leaned back, watching the man approach him with a subtle expression, and then sat down opposite him. Only when the man in white reached for his wine glass did Giotto say, "I don't think you'll like this wine."
Elio paused and silently put down the wooden cup that was shaking with foam.
They sat facing each other in a delicate silence for a moment. No one said, "What a coincidence." The clatter of voices from the hotel, the clinking of bottles, and the music playing in the corner continued to blare.
"Giuseppe told me," said Giotto, "that you could introduce me to the real 'owner' of this inn."
Elio raised an eyebrow, "Me?"
"Someone dressed like you, to be exact." Giotto shrugged. "I guess he doesn't know exactly who it is."
"I thought so," Elio nodded. "Come with me, and let me see what I can do for you."
He blended back into the crowd. Giotto glanced around, then followed Elio as inconspicuously as possible, who led him into the kitchen. "This is Giotto Vongola," Elio said bluntly, "He wants to see the mentor."
Giotto, who had just been trying to appear inconspicuous, found himself failing immediately. The men, who had been busy kneading dough, chopping meat, and peeling potatoes, all raised their heads in unison, casting wary glances their way. The hostility faded as they took in Elio and his white robe, but against the backdrop of the bustling hall outside, Giotto still felt a strong chill down his spine.
Would he bring trouble to Elio? Thinking of this, Giotto couldn't help but feel a little worried.
But to his surprise, they nodded politely to Elio—probably to show respect rather than agreement, because immediately afterwards a young man holding a machete said, "Master, please forgive me, but not everyone can see the mentor."
Elio raised an eyebrow. He didn't insist immediately, but Giotto quickly raised his hand and placed it on Elio's shoulder.
"It's all right," Giotto told them, squeezing Elio's shoulder. "I just hope your mentor knows about this. Let's go, Elio; he's probably busy."
Under the gaze of the assassins in the room, Giotto dragged Elio along, and Elio reluctantly followed him, nodding before leaving. He must have seen someone sneak into the basement to inform the mentor, and perhaps even Giotto knew this, because they didn't go far at all, just picked a table and sat down.
"That's Giotto Vongola?" the assassin whispered.
"He's been here several times," the assassin replied quietly. "The mentor told us to keep an eye on him. Have you forgotten?"
"Of course I know. But he—he seems to have such a good relationship with the Master!"
"I heard he's very good at poaching people from other organizations."
"What!"
"Indeed. I have heard that he has won over even Austria and the Bourbons."
The assassin gasped, "How is that possible!"
The assassin he was whispering to whispered back, "It's 100% true. My cousin's neighbor's friend told me. He's also an assassin, specializing in intelligence."
They were talking in a low voice, not noticing that their companion, who was discussing Giotto, had suddenly withdrawn and pretended to concentrate on studying the potato and tomato dough in his hand. They were still discussing the matter with relish until Maria came up from below and walked quietly behind them.
"He must have drugged them," the assassin commented. "Otherwise, there's no way to explain why they were willing to follow him!"
"Who knows?"
"Do you think Giotto Vongola will drug our Master Elio?"
The two assassins exchanged a solemn glance. Even at this point, they hadn't noticed Maria, who was folding her arms behind her.
"We must be careful with him," they concluded. "He's too scary."
The other assassins who were pretending to be busy finally couldn't help but laugh. Just as the two of them turned around, Maria slapped them both on the head.
"You'll have to double the training tomorrow," Maria said with a smile. "Don't pretend you forgot."
Maria walked out of the kitchen amid their wailing. Giotto, as if sensing something, quickly raised his head and smiled at her. Elio also turned around and saw that it was her, a look of understanding appeared on his face.
"Teacher, please come over, Mr. Vongola," Maria invited. "And you, Master, if it's convenient for you two."
Of course, they weren't inconvenienced. However, this time, upon entering the underground chamber, Elio noticed the assassins seemed much more organized, even quite "orderly." The doors were all closed, and Elio no longer spotted any assassins scurrying about. Only vague gazes were watching them, sizing them up, observing them.
When they passed through the bookshelves and arrived in the hall, Virgil was sitting there waiting for them. Behind his tall chair stood two silent assassins, one of whom was Luigi. Unlike his usual expression, he had a stern face (one might even say, a cold one), and he stared at Giotto with a powerful gaze.
"Welcome, welcome!" Virgil smiled and held out his hand. "To be honest, Mr. Vongola, I've been looking forward to this meeting for a long time. Giuseppe has said many good things about you to me."
Despite his welcoming demeanor, Elio was keenly aware that the atmosphere remained tense. The assassins remained silent, wary of Giotto. Giotto, however, seemed oblivious to anything, shaking Virgil's hand with the same warmth. "Then it seems he likes you even more! He never mentioned you to me, even though I've longed to hear of you."
"Ah, please forgive him," Virgil said, graciously motioning Giotto to sit down. "We are a secret organization and don't usually like to be discovered."
"I'm sorry, did I cause you any trouble?"
"No, no, don't say that. We should be thanking you for taking care of Elio for so long."
Elio, who was being mentioned, suddenly felt a little uncomfortable. Virgil smiled at him as he said this, and Giotto turned his head and glanced at Elio. Their smiles were somewhat similar, making Elio, who was standing behind Giotto, even more uncomfortable.
Yes, he was standing behind Giotto. Before them stood a long table, and across from them stood Virgil and his high chair. Maria, having fulfilled her duty as a guide, quickly joined the Mentor, replacing an Assassin on one side. It looked like they were alone, but Elio knew the hall was filled with Assassins.
He thought Giotto knew this too. Giotto was just pretending not to know.
"Elio is my friend," Giotto said, his tone softening. "A very good friend, at that. It's not that I 'look after' him, Master, we simply look after each other, as all Sicilians look after each other."
Elio didn't think this was a difficult question to answer, especially for an old man as wise as Virgil. But Virgil looked at Giotto with that half-mysterious, half-knowing smile on his face, and was silent for a moment. Giotto, still smiling, also looked at him.
"Taking care of each other, yes," the Assassin Mentor finally nodded. "This is something that flows in our blood, stronger than any contract. Is that why you generously support Giuseppe, Mr. Vongola?"
"Isn't that why you provide a roof over our heads, Master?" Giotto said with a smile.
Virgil smiled too. The tension seemed to ease, and Elio breathed a sigh of relief. But then, without changing his tone, he heard Virgil say, "But my roof only protects Sicilians, Mr. Vongola. It doesn't cover Austrians or Spaniards. If I hadn't heard you've done so much good for the Sicilians, I'd have thought someone doing this was just playing it safe, hedging their bets."
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The author has something to say: Oreo: I breathed a sigh of relief and immediately took it back
And the psychological activities of Giotto when he saw Oreo in this chapter: He was poaching people from other organizations all day long, and he was suddenly poached today and he was a little uncomfortable
(Assassin's Order: Who is poaching whom?!)
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