Chapter Two – The Night Before

Smith could not sleep.

He lay on his small bed, staring at the cracked ceiling, listening to the soft hum of the fan. His parents were already asleep in the next room, their tired breaths drifting through the thin wall.

But Smith’s eyes refused to close. His heart kept beating faster whenever he thought about tomorrow.

Mark.

The name felt sharp, like a knife pressed against his skin.

What kind of man was he really? People said he was cold. That he had no mercy. That one wrong word could end your life if you stood in front of him.

And Smith… Smith was just an ordinary boy. A poor student who smelled of noodles, with nothing special about him. What if Mark looked at him and saw nothing useful? What if he laughed, or worse—got rid of him?

Smith turned on his side, hugging his pillow. He thought of his parents. His mother’s tired smile, his father’s calloused hands. The old shop that was falling apart.

He whispered to himself, “I can’t back down. Not now.”

Even if it was dangerous. Even if it meant walking into a world of blood and shadows.

---

The next day, Smith tried to act normal. He went to class, took notes, even joked a little with Adrian. But inside, he was a storm. His hands felt clammy, his throat dry.

When evening came, he went home and stood in front of the small mirror in his room. He had never cared much about his appearance, but tonight felt different. If he was going to meet a man like Mark, he couldn’t look weak.

He combed his messy hair, straightened his worn-out shirt, and put on the cleanest pair of jeans he owned. He still looked simple, ordinary, but at least he looked neat.

He stared at his reflection. “Don’t be scared,” he told himself quietly. “Just… don’t show fear.”

But his eyes betrayed him. They looked nervous, unsure.

A knock came at his door. His mother peeked in. “Smith, are you going out?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said quickly, forcing a smile. “Just… a part-time job my friend told me about.”

Her face brightened a little. “A job? That’s wonderful. Be careful, okay?”

Smith nodded. He didn’t tell her the truth. How could he? How could he explain that he was going to meet a mafia boss?

When he stepped outside, the air felt colder than usual. The streets were quiet. Adrian was waiting at the corner, hands in his pockets.

“You ready?” Adrian asked.

Smith swallowed hard. “I… I think so.”

Adrian gave him a firm look. “No. You need to be sure. Mark doesn’t like hesitation. When you meet him, speak clearly. Be respectful. And whatever you do, don’t lie.”

Smith nodded again, this time with more determination. His heart was still racing, but his decision was made.

Tomorrow, his life as a normal college student would end.

Tonight, he would meet Mark.

—

Adrian led Smith through streets he had never walked before. The lights grew fewer, the alleys darker. The city felt different here—quieter, but heavier, as if every shadow was watching.

Finally, they stopped in front of a tall building. From the outside, it looked abandoned, with broken windows and faded paint. But Smith could see the truth the moment he spotted two men in black standing by the door, their eyes sharp, their hands resting near their belts.

“This is it,” Adrian whispered.

Smith’s mouth went dry.

One of the guards glanced at Adrian, then at Smith. After a silent moment, they stepped aside, letting them in.

Inside, the building was nothing like its outside. The air smelled faintly of smoke and leather. The hall was wide, with dim golden lights on the walls. Several men sat at tables, talking in low voices, their laughter dark and sharp. Guns gleamed on the table beside bottles of whiskey.

Smith kept his head down as Adrian led him deeper. His heart thudded so loudly he was afraid others could hear it.

Then he saw him.

At the far end of the hall, sitting on a black leather couch, was Mark.

Even from a distance, Smith felt the weight of his presence. Mark didn’t need to speak to command the room. His men stood around him like shadows, but it was clear he was the center of gravity.

He wore a dark suit, sharp and clean. A glass of wine rested in his hand. His posture was relaxed, but there was nothing soft about him. His gaze was calm, cold, the kind of gaze that could strip a person bare.

Smith froze for a moment. His breath caught.

So this is him…

He had heard whispers, stories. But none of them captured the real thing. Mark looked powerful. Dangerous. Untouchable.

Adrian leaned closer and whispered, “Don’t stare too long. He notices everything.”

Smith quickly lowered his eyes, pretending to look at the floor. But he could still feel it—the heavy atmosphere around the man, like a storm waiting to break.

They didn’t go to him immediately. Adrian stopped near the side of the room, where they had to wait. Smith’s palms were damp. His knees felt weak, but he forced himself to stand straight.

Minutes passed like hours. Smith stole a glance once, just once.

Mark was speaking to one of his men now. His voice was too low for Smith to hear, but it was calm, smooth, almost casual. And yet, the man he spoke to looked tense, nodding quickly as if afraid of making a mistake.

Smith’s stomach tightened. What will he see when he looks at me? Just a poor boy? Or someone worth keeping alive?

Finally, one of the guards stepped forward. His voice was sharp.

“Boss will see you now.”

Smith’s heart stopped.

Adrian gave him a small nod. “This is it. Don’t mess up.”

Smith swallowed hard and took a step forward. His feet felt heavy, but there was no turning back.

For the first time, Mark’s eyes lifted and locked onto him.

Cold. Sharp. Like blades in the dark.

Smith felt as if the world itself had gone silent.

—.

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