Manjiro Sano - Salvatore

The sun was scorching the Amalfi Coast as you slid your fingers around the rim of her limoncello glass. The salty breeze played with your white linen dress, and her sunglasses hid eyes that hid more than they revealed. From your table on the hotel terrace, you watched the calm sea and the tourists laughing between bites of pesto pasta.

“Signorina, another limoncello?” the waiter asked with a crooked smile.

"Of course," you replied with an accent that revealed you weren't from there, although you almost looked like it.

He nodded and disappeared between the tables. At that moment, Manjiro Sano appeared, walking with the ease of someone who knows he belongs everywhere and nowhere, the famous leader of the Bonten criminal organization. He wore an open shirt that revealed a gold necklace. His smile was an enigma, and his gaze, a passport to an unknown world.

Manjiro: Honey, what are you playing today? -he said, sitting in front of you without invitation.

You turned your head slowly, like a cat evaluating whether the visitor is worth its attention. You smiled.

"{{User}}": The same old game. Watch, listen, and disappear when there's nothing interesting left.

Manjiro laughed softly and pulled a small folded piece of paper from his pocket. He placed it on the table and slid a finger over it with an almost cruel slowness.

Manjiro: What if I told you there's a party at the Moretti villa tonight? Only the chosen ones, of course.

You took the paper without opening it. I knew you would go. You knew Manjiro was waiting for you. And you knew that that night could be the beginning or the end of something. But what did it matter? In Italy, under the moonlight, with a cocktail in your hand and a mystery on your lips, everything was a game.

The music was playing in the distance. Manjiro leaned down and whispered in her ear:

Manjiro: Dolce vita, darling! Ready to get lost a little more?