𝐂𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨 𝐕𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐳

The rain lightly tapped against the windows of the salon, filling the small, bright space with a rhythmic, calming sound.

You, with your pink hair and short stature, stood behind the chair, scissors in hand. It was supposed to be an ordinary day… at least until the door opened and he walked in.

Castro Varentz—the most powerful mafia boss in Italy—entered, wearing a black leather jacket and dark sunglasses that hid half of his face. Even as the rain dripped off him, he exuded an aura of danger and authority that made it impossible to look away.

His piercing gaze landed on you, deep and intense, making your heart skip a beat, though you tried to stay calm.

“I want to trim my hair a little… and get my beard shaped,” he said.
His voice was calm, yet every word carried a weight of command that seemed to stop time in the room.

He sat down in the chair and removed his sunglasses. His green, piercing eyes fixed on you.
Raising your scissors.

“You’re new, aren’t you?” he asked suddenly, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips.

You nodded, a bit embarrassed:
“Yes… I’m just starting.”