Unexpected Invitation and Awakening

In the secluded backroom of the deli, Deborah was lost in her dance, meticulously honing her moves to achieve greater elegance and flexibility. Immersed in her routine, a peculiar sensation crept over her — the unsettling feeling of being watched.

This wasn't unfamiliar to Deborah. As a young teenager, around the ages of 13 to 14, she occasionally sensed prying eyes on her during her dance rehearsals, a discomfort traced back to a peephole in the bathroom, once exploited by someone named Noodles to spy on her.

However, with Noodles having been incarcerated two years prior, there shouldn't have been anyone left to sneak peeks at her private moments in the deli's backroom. Yet, the sensation was undeniable.

Deborah's suspicions were piqued... Just six days earlier, she'd felt that familiar prickle of being watched as she danced. At first, she half-expected it was Noodles, oddly stirring a mix of excitement and nostalgia within her. Yet, when she turned to confront the voyeur, she didn't find Noodles but two shadowy figures instead. The brief glimpse was enough to make out two distinct faces peering back at her.

Confronting the two, fueled by a gut feeling of violation, she faced their denial. Or, to be more precise, Lorenzo, one of the pair, was the one who vehemently denied the accusations.

Deborah had only caught a fleeting glimpse of the faces peering at her, leaving her uncertain. She hadn't outright accused Lorenzo previously, mainly because she didn't know him well enough. But today was different.

In a quick, sharp movement, she turned her head and saw Lorenzo clearly through the hole, watching her.

Yet, she wasn't angry. Instead, a small, amused smile played on her lips. Lorenzo's actions reminded her of Noodles, her friend now behind bars...

Pausing her dance practice, she changed clothes, casting a final glance towards the now-closed peephole. A tinge of disappointment washed over her, realizing Lorenzo was no longer watching.

As she slipped into her white dress, her movements were a blend of grace and allure, her figure confidently displayed. She then dressed in her usual, more casual attire, leaving the moment behind.

---

"Here's your chicken noodle soup," Fat Moe announced, setting the bowl on Lorenzo's table with a friendly gesture.

"Thanks, Fat Moe," Lorenzo replied, nodding in appreciation.

"Haha, no problem at all. Enjoy," Fat Moe chuckled, flashing a warm smile before turning to attend to other customers in the deli.

Lorenzo, gripping his spoon, carefully scooped up the noodles and broth, bringing them to his mouth with anticipation.

The first taste brought a subtle smile to his lips. It had been days since he had savored anything as comforting as this soup. Despite its cost, Lorenzo felt it was completely justified.

Midway through his meal, he spotted a familiar figure approaching - it was Deborah! Instantly, he straightened up, a mix of nerves and anticipation running through him, especially that he had nearly been caught spying on her dance from the backroom of the deli, peering through a hole in the bathroom wall.

Yet, with a practiced ease born from his experiences, Lorenzo managed to appear composed and collected.

"Hi, Deborah. You're looking more beautiful than ever," he managed to say as she approached, maintaining a veneer of calm.

Deborah took the seat opposite him, her eyes locking onto his. "You can sit there with a straight face, even after I caught you spying on me dancing in the backroom?" she queried, her tone laced with disbelief and a hint of amusement.

Lorenzo, with a flicker of mischief in his eyes, played along with his feigned ignorance. "Dancing in the backroom? What are you talking about?" he asked, maintaining his cool as he continued with his meal.

Deborah's smile widened, clearly entertained by Lorenzo's efforts to keep his composure. "You don't have to deny it. I'm not upset..." she reassured him.

Despite this, Lorenzo persisted in his charade, concentrating on his noodle soup, which only made Deborah more amused. "Really, it's okay if you admit it," she encouraged.

Finally, with a sigh, Lorenzo met her gaze squarely. "Yes, I was watching you dance. Are you happy now?"

Their eyes locked, and Deborah pushed a little further. "And it was you and your friend who were spying on me last week, wasn't it?"

Lorenzo conceded with a smile, "Yes, it was us." He then quipped, adding a light-hearted touch, "Partners in crime, you might say."

Deborah couldn't help but laugh softly at his joke, resting her chin in her hands as she studied Lorenzo with curiosity. "What's so fascinating about watching me dance? Is it that entertaining?" she inquired, genuinely curious.

Lorenzo, sincere yet still playful, affirmed, "Yes, it's fascinating and entertaining to watch you. Your dancing has a certain... allure."

Deborah, perhaps expecting such an answer yet intrigued for more detail, pressed on. "Oh? And what exactly makes my dancing so fascinating and entertaining?"

Lorenzo found himself captivated by Deborah's presence, sitting so closely across from him. His gaze wandered from her lips to her nose, and finally, to her eyes, where he momentarily got lost until Deborah's repeated question brought him back. "It's fascinating and entertaining because..." He allowed his eyes another brief tour of her face before continuing, "You're beautiful..." He trailed off.

"Hm?" Deborah leaned in, eager for more of Lorenzo's thoughts.

"It's not just your beauty," Lorenzo elaborated after a pause, "but your body's flexibility and gracefulness when you dance..." He stopped for a moment, then added, "Watching your dance, with its graceful and elegant flow, really calms my mind."

This was no fabrication. Lorenzo found a genuine sense of tranquility in her movements.

Deborah, having braced herself for a response focused on her physical appeal, found Lorenzo's actual answer unexpectedly touching.

"Really?" She was genuinely surprised, then followed up, "My dancing calms you?"

With sincerity in his eyes, Lorenzo nodded, meeting her gaze directly.

Locked in a gaze with Lorenzo, Deborah sensed the sincerity in his eyes, leaving no room for doubt in her mind. She was genuinely touched that someone appreciated her dancing for its artistry, not just her physical appearance.

After all, she had dedicated countless hours to refining her craft. Dancing was more than a hobby for Deborah; it was a passion that rivaled even her love for acting.

"Well, thank you," she expressed, softening. Then, with a playful yet direct look at Lorenzo, she offered, "If you really want to watch me dance, you're welcome to come into the backroom. You don't need to sneak peeks like some voyeur."

Lorenzo's reaction was one of genuine surprise. "You're inviting me to watch you dance in the backroom?"

"Do you not want to?" Deborah teased, a chuckle escaping her lips.

"No, I'd love to. Really! When can I? Now?" Lorenzo's enthusiasm was palpable.

"Relax, I've already finished dancing for today. Maybe later in the afternoon, depending on my schedule," Deborah responded with a light laugh, amused by his eagerness. While she believed his claim of finding solace in her dancing, she also knew that Lorenzo, being a young man, had a natural attraction to her.

"I can't wait," Lorenzo replied earnestly.

"I'll let you know when you can come watch," Deborah said, then her curiosity piqued about his companion. "By the way, where's your friend? You're here alone?" She remembered Lorenzo's friend, the shy one.

At the mention of his friend, Adam, Lorenzo's expression turned somber. "He's in the hospital."

"What? Is he okay?" Concern laced Deborah's voice.

Shaking his head, Lorenzo sighed, "I'm not sure, but he's seriously hurt."

"What happened?" Deborah inquired, alarmed.

"He got beaten up at work," was all Lorenzo offered.

"Why?" She dug deeper.

"It's a long story..." Lorenzo decided to keep the details to himself.

After a bit more conversation, Lorenzo eventually made his way out of the deli, leaving Deborah with much to think about.

---

As Lorenzo stepped out of the deli, he was abruptly halted by three young men. The ringleader, a lean young man with short, dark hair and piercing eyes, grabbed Lorenzo by the collar, demanding, "Who are you to Deborah?"

Facing the trio, Lorenzo's demeanor shifted to one of defiance. With a swift motion, he pushed away the hands that clung to his collar, questioning, "What's wrong with you?"

Taken aback but quick to regain his composure, the young man, shared a laugh with his companions, mockingly commenting, "The pretty guy fought back, haha."

A chubby young man, offered his assistance, "You want some help, Max?"

Max, maintaining his focus on Lorenzo, declined with a wave of his hand, "I can handle this on my own, Patrick..." His attention returned to Lorenzo as he pointed directly at him, insisting, "Who are you to Deborah?"

Recognizing the name "Max" and piecing together their demeanor, Lorenzo deduced that these were Noodles' friends.

"It's none of your business," Lorenzo replied, his tone ice-cold. He issued a straightforward warning, "Step aside... unless you're looking for trouble."

Max and his cohorts couldn't contain their amusement, erupting into laughter. "Hahaha! Look at Mr. Softie here, trying to play the tough guy. Ain't that something?" Max's words dripped with the gritty sarcasm of a street tough.

"Max, looks like our pretty boy here doesn't know who he's messing with," Philip chimed in, standing beside Patrick, equally amused by the situation.

"Need a hand with this one, Max?" Patrick offered, ready to jump into action at Max's command.

"Let me handle this, guys. He doesn't look so tough; I can take him down myself..." Max boasted with a confident grin. "I'll make sure he gets the message about who we are." Without any further warning, Max swung a punch, striking Lorenzo squarely in the face.

"Ugh!" Lorenzo grunted at the blow, feeling the strain of his current frail physique. Despite his physical limitations, he knew he still possessed the skills and determination to hold his ground in a fight.

Fueled by anger, Lorenzo fixed a fierce gaze on Max. Whether it was adrenaline or sheer determination, Lorenzo managed to land a solid punch on Max's face, surprising both Max and himself with the force behind it.

Max, taken aback by the strength of Lorenzo's counter, staggered slightly, a grunt escaping his lips.

Patrick and Philip watched in disbelief, equally shocked that Lorenzo had managed to hit back with such power.

"Ah, shit." Max spat out a mix of blood and spit, his eyes narrowing at Lorenzo. "So, it's going to be like that, huh?"

Lorenzo returned Max's gaze with a cold, unwavering stare. In that moment, a rush of memories flooded back to him—battles against groups of thugs in his previous life, each confrontation a test of his resolve and strength.

[Ding! Congratulations! You have awakened the "Godfather System"!!!]

The synthetic voice echoed in Lorenzo's mind, accompanied by an interface that flashed before his eyes. But Lorenzo paid it no heed, his focus sharpened to a razor's edge as he prepared for what was to come in his confrontation with Max.