Reverse Thoughts

By the antique chair sat a handsome gent, statue-like in a neat, perfectly pressed suit. The rare black design was the kind that could only be found in high-priced tailors. And even though it covered his build thoroughly, I could tell he was muscular inside.

His face was clean-shaven, his forehead was almost square, but not laughably so. A few thin lines were laid upon it, remnants of how often he created a frown, but they were dismissive by the tricks of light. His eyebrows were impossibly straight, his eyes were made of steel blue marble. The color was nearly transparent as if an ocean under the daylight, hidden behind the thick white lashes, telling many secrets yet holding them locked, so steady I wouldn't dare to open in fear of what I might find within.

His hair was done very nicely, a bit shiny but there was a noticeable smoothness to the strands. The most striking feature was its color; light grey, almost white, highlighted the crown placed upon his head and somehow made him seem more authoritative than his aura already suggested. I didn't want to stare, but my eyes kept flicking to him.

That man, just sitting there… How does he look so beautiful?

It didn't hurt how he was manly gorgeous. It was just, what I had in mind about Mafia bosses was they must be around Fillan's age, even older, and either nasty or scary looking. But, Marvel appeared to be just in his late twenties. Two, maybe three years older than me. And as if he had accustomed to dressing that way, he didn't look awkward with a suit, like he was born to show the appearance of an elite gentleman. Overall, he was so different from what I imagined he would look like.

But I could sense something was off about him, something that made me restless…

"Just kidding," Marvel chuckled, resuming the conversation to melt the frozen air. "Even though it's an old man like you, I prefer my date is a living human since a corpse can't answer my questions."

When Marvel smiled, his expression was kind, charming even, as if the man who promised to blow someone's head a minute ago was a totally different person.

"Y-you almost got the hell out of me!" I could hear Fillan force his laughter while he was quivering. "I know you love to throw witty remarks, but that one was a rather cruel joke, Mr. Yerevan…!"

As if the previous conversation never happened, both Fillan and Marvel laughed at each other relaxedly.

Indeed, there are various types of people in the underworld. To think that someone like Fillan could be this nervous just after being told a joke, must not be a mere coincidence. I could sense Fillan was alerted to Marvel despite the fact that Marvel was much younger than him. But, me too, I could sense it about him as well.

Danger.

Resting his leg above the other, the young man sitting across from Fillan was Marvel Yerevan, and his secretary standing beside him was Gilbert Loiselle, looking at his watch to make sure how long Fillan and I were late. I poured more whiskey into two glasses for both Fillan and Marvel while they were discussing their business.

"The items weren't shipped as scheduled?" Fillan asked in surprise.

"The police were getting in my way, so I had to contribute big money to the public officials in order to get more licenses," Marvel whined, but then smirked silently. "Well, some politicians are just too happy to do my bidding as long as I pay, so you can call it defrauding the government with the help of the government."

I had to maintain a poker face when I gulped hard, swallowing my thickened saliva. Finally, I thought to myself, another key for my investigation has just been found!

For an undercover operation, I, Asta Mikaela, have been working as a secretary for a man named Fillan Torrelei, for almost four years now. My boss is a wealthy middle-aged man who runs a luxurious hotel business. A "businessman" is what he appears in front of people, but he is actually a lousy pedophile who takes a big role in minor prostitution.

And the man Fillan was meeting with tonight, Marvel Yerevan, from their conversation, I knew that Marvel was the owner of one successful liquor industry in this town. He also had a member-only club and casino as one of his elevated achievements, but all of that was undoubtedly a facade, because I believed he was the Mafia young boss of the Yerevan Crime Family, the one Charles had probably mentioned to me.

"I heard there are many organizations under the government with especially skillful agents nowadays. To have such information leaked, are you sure no one is currently spying over you?" Fillan asked Marvel on a cautious note, making the younger pause longer than expected.

"Espionage is so government-like," Marvel snorted contemptuously. "They choose talented and loyal people to infiltrate and investigate, doing the dirtiest and riskiest job, but then if their informants make some mistake, they won't hesitate to trim them down the root."

While I was listening to Marvel talking, both anger and anxiety sat below my poker face. I knew it was just a groundless statement, but when I imagined something bad happening to Charles, I couldn't help but be offended by what he said.

I didn't know I was staring at Marvel until the man himself turned to me with a confused gaze. I throbbed as soon as our eyes met, immediately looking away as if to escape the steel blue marbles. Seeing my reaction, he smirked softly while watching curiously.

That was close! Why did I flee from his gaze? I've never done something as coward-like! Actually, it was the first time for me to get so immersed in someone I just met, after Charles…

I inhaled deeply, trying to compose myself.

"I need to be selective with the people I'm recruiting," Marvel continued, taking his glass. "The people you mentioned to me before, did you bring them tonight?"

He was elegantly swirling the glass in front of his eyes, making the amber liquid sway around in slow motion. Through the glass, he watched Fillan who suddenly became nervous. The sharp spike of adrenaline crept around him, enough to make him stutter.

"T-they don't deserve your attention," Fillan replied, forcing a smile.

The way he said it made me believe that he forgot about something I didn't know about. I was eager to ask him, but I decided to listen first.

"Actually, I've prepared something more suitable for you, Mr. Yerevan!"

"Hmm…" Marvel hummed in a low tone, unimpressed.

"Y-you said you're short of intellectual people to fill some seats, but you can't just choose anybody, right? S-so, without a doubt, I recommend the best one… Here!"

I took only the barest notice of the sudden change in the atmosphere when Fillan grabbed my wrist and pushed me toward Marvel. While digesting the pieces of information I gathered as one, I was about to lose it, but Fillan suddenly clenched my wrist with bone-crushing strength, and I couldn't say anything in the end.

This old bastard... Just as I thought, he's been hiding something from me! The fantastic digits that were remitted to his bank account, it was from a Mafia leader?!

At this point, I knew the deal had been made, otherwise, Fillan wouldn't have been this anxious. I should have looked into the transaction more thoroughly, but it couldn't be helped now. He might already have planned all this the moment we arrived.

CLACK!!

Fillan and I flinched almost together when Marvel let his glass fall to the table heavily. The slam was loud, but not so much that it cracked the glass. The person of attention crossed both of his arms above his chest, tapping his index finger to follow the clock ticking as the whole room became uncomfortably quiet.

"Fillan Torrelei, what should I do to you if you lie to me?"

When Marvel asked Fillan, he was staring at me instead of the old man. In my eyes, there was this reflection of the almighty look of a young man in black clothing in contrast to his white crown. A black diamond ring was lining around his pinky finger on the right - an absolute token of a Mafia leader - as if he meant for it to be seen. The pair of steel blue eyes under his soft lashes looked transparent as if they would absorb what they sighted.

There was the cold stiffness to my muscles, making me more like a mannequin than a man of flesh and bone. I wanted so much to get away, not let the situation dominate me any further, but my head was a violent whirl of angst, trying to organize the chaos in it was futile.

As the clock was ticking, the night teased me with its silence. The air was so brittle it could snap. And if it didn't, I might.