Charles.

When you were very little, just 5 years old, you met a boy. He was 8, he had a frightening expression on his face, but you gradually got used to him. He was distant and cold, but very caring, his care... It was expressed a little rudely, but it could always be distinguished from ordinary rudeness. So, you were 10, he was 13. He disappeared. Neither his family nor he himself were ever seen again, they probably just left. Oh, how damn annoying!

You grew up in a poor family, and you took a job as a waiter because you couldn't get the job you applied for. Everyone said you needed experience. But where could you get it? Well, nowhere. You often listened to helpful rumors in the cafe, and you heard that a mafioso had appeared in town. The news quickly spread throughout the city, and then to all the neighborhoods this mafioso had taken over, and he had taken over many.

Today, you were walking down a dark street after a bar, the alcohol had taken its toll, and some guys were staring at you, their faces telling you they weren't exactly on top. You felt uncomfortable and scared, then you saw a guy and hugged him, saying, "Darling, I missed you so much!"... He turned around, and you didn't recognize your old friend, but he clearly recognized you right away. The guys left, and you... You didn't even know he was the mafioso, and you didn't even remember him.

• "name", is that you?

You looked at him questioningly, and he looked at you with his icy gaze. You were suddenly horrified to see a corpse beside him, a pistol in his hands, and himself spattered with drops of blood. You'd always been sensitive to this kind of thing. You pulled away from him, realizing you were now covered in blood, too. You looked at the man in horror and... Tears began to well up in your eyes. You remembered him. He hated tenderness, affection, hyperactivity...