🔊 TTS Settings
CHAPTER 06
Maria understood that he was struggling against the effects of the drug, but she still hated seeing him in pain, so she tried to hit and push him away.
However, none of her strength had any effect on him. He was only enduring it through sheer, desperate self-control.
By the time the grip marks on his waist had darkened into bruises, Benedict’s iron-like hold finally loosened. His hands slowly fell away.
As some of the antidote began to spread through his body, Maria, now freed from his grip, headed toward the door.
She spoke outwardly:
“I’ve calmed down, so you don’t need to break the door.”
Only then did the staff, who had been preparing to break it down, stop their actions.
With the tension easing, Maria suddenly felt exhaustion wash over her and blinked slowly in relief. Benedict looked at her and said,
“Don’t go out. Sleep here.”
“How am I supposed to sleep here?”
“Just because you sleep doesn’t mean I’ll touch you, and just because you don’t sleep doesn’t mean I can’t. So just sleep.”
“That’s not what I’m worried about. We’re basically like family—”
At Maria’s words, Benedict looked at her with a strange expression.
He pulled her onto the bed with force and lay her down, speaking sarcastically.
“Right. Like a little sister.”
Maria’s wide eyes looked up at him. Then, as Benedict shifted slightly, she flinched and squeezed her eyes shut.
After a moment of silence, Maria cautiously opened her eyes again.
Benedict was lost in the thought of being trapped here. Yet, reassured by Maria’s presence beside him, he simply collapsed next to her as if it were nothing.
“Where are you lying down?”
Maria scolded him, but Benedict closed his eyes and replied,
“There’s only one place to lie down.”
“If you’ve calmed down, I’m leaving.”
“No. That’s scary.”
Benedict grabbed Maria’s arm as he spoke. This time it wasn’t the drug—it was purely his own will.
“Don’t leave me alone.”
He buried his face against her as he continued,
“It’s not like you ever did that anyway…”
He was right. Maria had never once left Benedict alone while he was confined. Not even today.
After deciding to stay by his side, the sleep she had been lacking for so long finally crashed over her.
She hadn’t slept properly in a long time, and it felt like it was catching up to her as punishment. In the end, Maria couldn’t hold on any longer and collapsed into sleep.
Sometime later, when Alexander arrived, Maria was curled up asleep on a mattress left after Benedict had destroyed the bed.
Alexander looked at Benedict, who was asleep with her held firmly in his arms—clearly someone who had no intention of escaping—and said,
“No matter how well you’re educated, I guess you can’t fix a bad upbringing. How can someone fall asleep in a room like this full of trash?”
“Impressive. You managed to insult everyone in this room—including me—in just two sentences.”
Benedict clicked his tongue and waved his hand impatiently, asking for a cigarette.
Alexander handed him the cigarette he had been smoking.
Benedict didn’t even bother to light a new one. The moment he took it, he inhaled it as if trying to collapse it in one breath. Only after the nicotine spread through his lungs did his face finally relax.
Alexander looked at him and spoke politely.
“Sorry. I know it’s for me, but that damn drug…”
“Who’s going to move her?”
Benedict asked casually, and Alexander immediately gestured that he would take over.
“Of course I will. You’re done. Don’t touch her. What do you think you’re doing with my sister?”
“She walked in on her own. I had it rough too.”
“I know. That’s why I’ll let it slide just for today.”
Alexander took Maria from Benedict’s arms.
Benedict instinctively grabbed her wrist, then reluctantly let go. Alexander found the gesture unsettlingly dangerous.
As Maria was lifted into his arms, she briefly woke, recognized his face, and then closed her eyes again.
Walking away, Alexander said to Benedict,
“This reminds me of when you first came to Monte De Plano. When you got punished and locked in the dock warehouse, Maria was screaming at us to open the door.”
“If you hadn’t opened it, I wouldn’t have gone deaf from her screaming back then.”
As he spoke, Maria—still not fully asleep—swung a fist and hit his shoulder.
Benedict acted like it hurt out of habit, then rubbed his shoulder before slipping his hands back into his pockets.
“If you’re going to go from old stories to your drug-selling talk, don’t even start.”
“Benedict. In the end, we still have to do it. The casino is just for people spending pocket change. I can’t live off small money anymore.”
Alexander continued calmly.
“In this vast land where we can’t even farm, the only thing we can squeeze out is Hopins extract.”
“……”
“The only thing that can revive the economy ruined by the Scala family… is that.”
Benedict didn’t answer. Instead, he left the conversation entirely, as if it bored him.
After Benedict left, Alexander carried Maria into her room and gently laid her on the bed.
As he tried to withdraw his arm, Maria grabbed it.
“Listen to Benedict.”
“Maria.”
“Look at the people here. Half of them are drugged up, just waiting for death. And you still think like that?”
At her pleading, angry voice, Alexander let out a low sigh.
He leaned down and gently stroked her hair.
“Sleep well, Maria.”
With that, he ended the conversation and quietly left the room.
Maria’s tightly clenched fist trembled, then slowly went limp.
After parting with Alexander, Benedict headed to Monte De Plano’s vault.
Inside, the smell of money lingered among stacks of banknotes.
“Can I take this?”
He pointed to a briefcase on the drawer and asked. Silvano, the accountant of Monte De Plano who was tallying money, nodded.
Silvano, who had just turned thirty that year, already had hair as white as an old man’s.
Benedict grabbed the briefcase, then took another bundle of cash stacked like scraps of paper inside the cabinet.
Silvano picked up a pen lying nearby and threw it at him.
“Stop taking things as you please. I still have to do the accounting.”
Benedict caught the flying pen, placed it back on the desk, and sat for a moment, tapping his fingers on the ledger.
“Go finish your novel.”
“What novel? This is all accounting, you brat.”
“You made a mistake here.”
“Where?”
Squinting his poor eyesight, Silvano flipped through the abacus and corrected the numbers.
“…Where did this trash learn to count money?”
Ignoring Silvano—probably the most educated person in Bluegate—Benedict grabbed another bundle of cash.
Silvano gave up and waved him off, returning to his ledger.
Benedict paused and looked back at him.
He was the son of a gambler buried under unimaginable debt.
Seven years ago, he had been dragged to Monte De Plano simply because he had studied accounting in college. Even now, just seeing the shackles on his feet made Benedict feel suffocated, so he exhaled sharply.
Noticing his unease, Silvano said indifferently,
“Don’t look at me like that. You said you’d get me out of here.”
“I will.”
As Benedict said that and quietly took yet another stack of bills, Silvano finally began throwing objects at him in earnest.
“Stop taking it.”
“Our people still need to maintain appearances. We’re the face of Monte De Plano.”
“What face? You’re just gangsters. Don’t just dress nicely—elevate your humanity a bit.”
“So much disrespect just because you went to college.”
Silvano scoffed.
“The Scala family hands out academic records even if you never attended college. From the best university in Gephel, no less.”
“That doesn’t mean you actually went.”
Muttering, Benedict gathered as much cash as he could carry. He even waved goodbye to the thoroughly disgusted Silvano before leaving the vault.
Silvano shuddered as if repulsed.
But his gaze soon drifted to the shackles, and he recalled Benedict’s words—the voice he had once heard.
“I’m from the Scala family. Benedict Lupo Scala. The rightful owner of Monte De Plano.”
A boy’s voice, once stepping down the staircase of despair, heavy with inevitability.
“If you’re on my side, I’ll get you out of here.”
Silvano, who knew every coin rolling inside Monte De Plano, knew there was no way out before his death.
So he had no choice but to take the boy’s hand—the hand already worn down like an old rope from years at sea.
