Author's POV -

'Boom.' The sudden crack of a gunshot shatters the silence in the air, echoing through the dimly lit, desolate alley. It is a sharp, explosive sound that seems to pierce the very fabric of reality, leaving an eerie stillness in its wake. The acrid scent of gunpowder hangs heavy in the breeze, and a plume of smoke curls from the barrel of Zo's firearm. In that split second, everything freezes, and then chaos erupts as the world comes crashing back to life.

"Run," Zo's voice is ice-cold, devoid of any remorse. "Only if you can." He watches with a chilling calmness as the man, his victim, stumbles backward, his eyes wide with terror.

He kneels in front of him, the cold steel of the gun pressed to the man's temple. "Lord, give me a second chance. Please. I swear I won't deceive you ever." The man's voice quivers as he pleads, his palms pressed together in a desperate prayer.

"Cheating is the only thing I hate the most," Zo hisses, his dark eyes locked onto the trembling figure before him. "If you shoot me from in front, then I will happily die. However, if you backstab me or deceive me, then it's your choice to die. You signed the contract not to deceive me. Did you forget that? Now, you owe me to die." His voice drips with anger and cruelty.

"I know, Lord. Please pardon me. I..." The man's words are cut short as Zo's gloved hand slams into his face, sending him sprawling onto the cold, unforgiving ground.

"Shut up." Zo's command is harsh and final. "You have two options. One, pick up the pistol and shoot yourself. Second, keep running, and I will kill you mercilessly. Although I prefer the second option, it's better to grant the person's last wish." Zo's words are laced with sadistic pleasure as he watches the man's trembling hands reach for the discarded weapon.

The man hesitates for a moment, his gaze filled with terror and desperation. But ultimately, the fear of a slow, painful death outweighs any other consideration. He picks up the pistol with trembling hands, tears mixing with the dirt on his face.

Zo steps back, his gaze unwavering as he watches the man raise the gun to his own temple. The alley is filled with an unbearable silence, broken only by the man's shallow, ragged breaths.

"Goodbye," Zo says, his voice devoid of any emotion. And then, without warning, the alley is once again filled with the deafening sound of a gunshot.

The man's lifeless body crumples to the ground, blood seeping into the cracked pavement. Zo's face remains impassive, his cruel resolve unshaken.

"Dispose of the body," he orders, turning to his right-hand man, Marco, who has watched the gruesome scene unfold without a flicker of emotion. "Make sure there's no trace left."

Marco nods, his expression as cold as Zo's. Without a word, he sets about the grim task of erasing any evidence of the man's existence, leaving behind only the chilling memory of Zo's merciless cruelty.

...

At the stroke of midnight, Zo finds himself immersed in the tranquil embrace of the pool, his thoughts drifting amidst the sea of memories. The rippling water casts shimmering reflections under the moon's pale glow, and for a moment, he feels like he could lose himself in the past. The world seems to fade away, and only the gentle lull of the water remains.

Marco's arrival shatters the tranquility. "Lord, not getting sleep as usual," he remarks, settling on the edge of the pool, observing Zo's nocturnal swim.

"Yeah," Zo responds, his strokes slowing. "What brings you here now? I need my own time," he continues swimming, his irritation evident.

"I need to show you something. Perhaps it's the remedy for your sleeplessness," Marco says, his tone carrying a hint of urgency.

Zo pauses in the water, his curiosity piqued. "What's that?" He wades closer to Marco, his irritation giving way to curiosity.

"It's the list of the 100 girls to be auctioned tomorrow," Marco answers, presenting his phone to Zo.

Zo furrows his brow. "I have more than 100 girls in my harem. I'm not interested in any of them. Leave it," he says, intending to resume his swim.

"But there's one face. Just take a look," Marco insists. He displays a picture on his phone, and Zo's world comes to a standstill. He rushes to the pool's edge, focusing solely on the image.

"How can it be her? How?" Zo is overcome with shock and disbelief.

"It may or may not be her, but given the circumstances, it's her face," Marco explains calmly.

Zo's eyes well up with a mix of emotions, and he is overwhelmed. "Let's bring her here immediately." He storms out of the pool as if he could defy gravity.

"We can't bring her this way. The list has already been published. Breaking Mafia Law is not an option, and you're the Lord; you can't violate it," Marco cautions.

"Then arrange a place for me in the auction. I need to acquire her, no matter what," Zo declares with unwavering determination, his gaze still fixed on the picture, his thumb absentmindedly playing with the screen.

"Yes, Lord," Marco nods and turns to leave.

Zo halts him with another pressing question. "Are you sure it's her? I mean, the face. Because during the auction, we won't have a clear view due to the transparent mask on her face." He needs to be sure that it's not a trap or some cruel joke.

"The picture is authentic. I verified it before coming to you," Marco assures him.

Zo takes his phone and looks at his wallpaper, a sinister grin appearing on his face. He runs a hand through his wet hair.

"If it's you or even just your resemblance, everything belongs to me. I possess you, and I will own your doppelganger," Zo muses aloud, his eyes fixed on the night sky. "Prepare for an unrelenting sleeping partner, the enigmatic girl." His cruel and thrilling laughter echoes through the pool area, sending shivers down Marco's spine.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Cute readers,
So?
Will this ruthless Mafia Lord Zo claim the ownership of Chiara, or not?
Let's see...
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