Walking a New Path

"The Mafia has always been the nastiest problem existing in our country. That's why, I submit to you this important task, Angelo. You're now Asta Mikaela, the secretary of a man named Fillan Torrelei, a wealthy businessman who is actually a rotten pedophile who has ruled the minor prostitution in the underworld for decades."

The head of Green Organization, Lieutenant Charles Verde, also my father, said to me, fifteen years later, since the first day he brought me to this house - also the Green Organization's headquarters.

I smoothed my dark brown suit with my hands, ready with my new identity as Asta Mikaela; a twenty-two-year-old man who is becoming the secretary of a middle-aged man named Fillan Torrelei.

Charles got up from his chair and reached my collars. After catching me off guard with his sudden movement, he smiled at me.

His warm smile is the only thing that has never changed even after all these years, I thought to myself as I plainly stared at him. His hands that try to fix my tie have grown weaker. Even the wrinkles on his skin have turned clearer and deeper. The cane he used as an accessory to look cool in front of me back then, now has come in handy as he walks.

"Take care, Angelo," he softly said, tapping my shoulders.

Now that our eye level matches, I no longer need to lift my head to look at him and he doesn't need to squat to talk to me.

All this time, we've always been together. But, for a kid like me, time means growing while for him, aging.

Charles turned around, back to his seat again. As he created a rustling noise over the pocket of his coat, I knelt on one knee and reached his hand through his clothing. His hand stopped moving inside the pocket and our eyes met, slipping a minute of silence.

One; he pointed up his index finger, and I shook my head in response. He pulled down his brows in a frown, sighing in annoyance.

For the past fifteen years, we've come to a state of comprehension where a slight touch and a simple glance have a certain meaning only we understand.

"So stingy," Charles protested, pulling out what was inside his pocket as I lifted my hand palm to claim it. A pack of cigarettes was handed over to me by him while sulking.

After I had confiscated the evidence, I took one bar and pinned it in between my lips, enough to test his patience yet I kept continuing. Using his old, refillable match, I lit it up and the curly smoke swarmed in the air. I took a deep inhalation and kept it inside my chest for a while. As I slanted toward his face, I breathed out softly and the white fog slithered past my mouth.

"If you want some 'smoke' that badly, Altin is grilling some meat in the kitchen."

The tobacco scent tumbled in the air along with the words I spoke and Charles scowled, tugging backward to get away from my face - seeing his natural expression turn into a staggering pause has always been my favorite.

To avoid his whine, I immediately got up and patted his shoulder before walking away.

Through the moment of silence we felt, there were so many unspoken words we shared. The quietness remained there as the sound of my shoes colliding against the floor disappeared from the living room where Charles was sitting alone.

He clenched his hands as he sensed the loneliness growing inside him. He released another sigh and groped into his other pocket where he spared some bars by secret, yet after some time he stilled, feeling strange when he found nothing there.

By the door, I began the countdown from three to one until…

"Angelo!!"

Rather than a warm hug, that loud and fierce shriek accompanied my steps as I walked out of the house. I felt sorry for Altin who rushed to the parlor while still wearing his apron when he heard Charles yelling.

"I raised you to be a gentleman and you turned it back at me?! Come back here this instant, Angelo!" Charles' scream continued.

"I see… You've been fooled, Lieutenant. One more thing, don't call him by his real name for the time being," Altin kindly reminded, trying to calm the old man who was shouting frustratingly.

Feigning not to hear anything, I kept walking to the yard. Charles really has no idea how to take care of his health, that's why I just can't stop worrying about him.

I looked at the crumpled cigarettes inside my grip that I took from Charles' pocket without him noticing as he tried to fool me first. What's the point of nurturing me to be a secret agent if he's just going to deceive me with a cheap trick like that? I sighed.

"The nicotine is so strong," I wiped my mouth with my knuckles as it tasted bitter.

Crushing the bars under my shoe after the last blow, I was captivated by the sizzling sound they created as the fire met the wet asphalt caused by the melting snow.

I recalled it. It was also in a season like this the first time I came here. It was exactly fifteen years ago, but now as I took a glimpse at my surroundings, nothing really has changed because it feels as if time flies so fast.

"Angelo!"

A familiar, high-pitched voice called my name, trimming down my thoughts. Running in my direction, it was Anna Verde, five years younger than me.

The girl was the only biological child of Charles. In short, my little sister.

She brought a knitted white scarf in her hands and put it around my neck. A warm smile appeared on her face as she believed the scarf looked nice on me. I glanced at her hands. She even forgot to wear gloves as she rushed.

"It looks painful."

When I made the comment, she flinched and immediately proceeded to put her hands into her coat pocket when she realized I noticed her scratched fingers.

"You've done it again, forcing yourself and getting hurt," I looked into her and the best thing she did was pout.

"I can't help it, okay? It's supposed to be your birthday present, but I don't even know if I can give it to you this year," she yelled back and I couldn't reciprocate.

"Thank you," I hugged her to prevent further whining as I knew she would be really loud since she was the female version of Charles.

Before long, I pulled apart when I remembered I stored some band-aids in my bag. I offered them to her, but she didn't budge. Hesitantly, she stretched her hands toward me while looking away to avoid my judging gaze at her spoiled behavior, but as usual, I wasn't tough enough to say no.

"Angelo..." She softly called my name and I just hummed in response. "When will you come back?"

I somehow expected the question from her, but it was a rather wistful voice than I thought, like she was about to cry. Maintaining a cool mien while treating her hands, I acted as if the farewell didn't affect me.

"Why? Have you missed me already?" I teased, rendering a chuckle.

"N-no, stupid!"

She was so close to punching me, but I dodged, catching her as she stumbled after failing to reach me. I patted her head before turning around, making her stop in her tracks as she lifted her head to find my eyes for the last time.

"It's getting colder. Get into the house, Anna."

I pulled out the car door and smiled. At first, I didn't want to return her gaze, but the guilt of escaping her teary eyes kept bugging me. Moreover, when I knew I was the reason for it.

I got into the car and saw her from the rearview mirror. From there, a mournful expression was reflected while the car was bringing me to a place far away, without knowing when I would come back.

For crying out loud, just look at how she and her father react to my departure, I thought to myself. This is just a mission, but they're behaving as if I'm going to spend the rest of my life exploring the universe and never come back... I sighed again.

I turned my head to the side, looking at my house through the window glass. In the depiction of my vision, I pictured a scene that was replaying inside my head; the image of a seven-year-old boy who had a place to return and the family who always waited for his coming.

As I was moving forward, I stored that image in my deepest memory so it would be the last thing I would ever forget.