In front of Kultur Casino Bern, the lights glowed softly. The stone fa?ade stood dignified beneath warm illumination. Glass doors reflected streetlamps and silhouettes gathering for the interview.
Maria held the bouquet of one hundred and one roses. In the evening light, the petals looked almost black.
Angelo took a step toward the stairs… then slowed.
A short distance away stood five figures.
Four men. One woman.
Same age range — around thirty. Composed. Structured. Their formation was subtle but deliberate.
Not random.
The woman stood slightly ahead.
Dark tailored coat. Black boots. Silver crescent earrings. Hair tied into a sleek low ponytail.
Cold, direct gaze.
Rosalia.
To her right stood a broad-shouldered man in a leather jacket. Arms crossed. Jaw tense.
Brad.
Behind them — a man in a light gray coat and glasses. Straight posture. Measured movements.
Oliver.
Next — a thick-built man in a dark hoodie. Hands in his pockets.
Not aggressive.
Immovable.
Daric.
And the last leaned against a stone railing. Black coat. Faint half-smile. Observant eyes.
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John.
To passersby, they looked imposing.
But Angelo saw them clearly.
The five guild leaders.
The ones who had once united against him.
He turned to his mother.
"Go inside. I'll join you in a moment."
Maria studied him briefly, then nodded and walked toward the entrance.
Angelo approached the five.
They noticed him almost at once — and each felt something unpleasant stir beneath the surface, like a shadow trying to rise.
He stopped.
"Good evening. Are you waiting for someone?"
"None of your business," Brad snapped.
Oliver spoke calmly.
"Brad. He only asked a question."
"I get a bad feeling when I see this guy," Brad muttered.
"Watch your language," Daric added dryly.
John's smirk was faint, unreadable.
Oliver inclined his head.
"Apologies. We're waiting for an old acquaintance."
"An old acquaintance?" Angelo's lips curved slightly. "And who might that be?"
Rosalia met his eyes.
"If you're here too, you already know."
"Tonight there's an interview with one of the strongest, most outstanding players of Life Without End. If you're standing here, you must know who that is."
Angelo let out a quiet laugh.
"Of course I know him. The great Bloody Emperor. The strongest being in Life Without End of all time. No one compares to him."
His tone was deliberately theatrical.
Brad scoffed.
"Outstanding? Who even talks like that?"
"Obviously," Angelo continued smoothly. "And you? You must be fans too."
Several faces tightened.
He added evenly:
"None of us are worthy rivals to him. We're insignificant. Fit only to serve as his lackeys."
That was enough.
Rosalia stepped forward, eyes blazing.
"How annoying can you be?" she snapped. "You really piss me off."
She suddenly swung at him.
Angelo shifted calmly to the side. Her hand sliced through empty air.
She tried again, this time with a sharp kick.
He stepped back just as smoothly.
"Miss, please calm down," he said with an amused smile. "Anger is harmful to beauty… and to health."
"Rosalia!" Oliver's voice cut in sharply.
She stopped, breathing hard.
"Sorry, Oliver," she said, still glaring at Angelo. "But when I hear this piece of trash talk like that, it makes me furious."
She turned back to Angelo, her voice colder now.
"I despise that idiot. Everything he did. His words. His very existence. I came here just to see what kind of bastard he is!"
Brad's fists tightened.
Daric's shoulders stiffened.
Even John's faint smile disappeared.
Angelo straightened slightly.
"Oh. My apologies," he said lightly. "I didn't mean to offend you."
A polite nod.
"I hope you enjoy your reunion."
He turned and walked toward the entrance without looking back, lifting a casual hand in farewell.
The five watched him go.
And each of them felt the same thing.
That cold, sarcastic, arrogant tone.
Somewhere…
They had heard that voice before.
