It was the first sign of dusk. Most of the merchants had convened in a repurposed bar, a warm and grounded place where locals gathered for a glass of ale after a long day's work. Unlike the bustling taverns of the Entertainment District, this one enforced a strict no-degeneracy rule within its walls—only honest business and quiet camaraderie were welcome here.
In a small office above the bar, Josef sat at a cluttered desk, deeply focused. Parchment sheets and tally boards surrounded him as he methodically calculated the gains and expenses of their operations.
"Adding the total of today's sales... minus the costs... capital... fifteen percent..."
He double-checked the figures, scratching his notes into a ledger. Josef was responsible for ensuring that every merchant under their umbrella received their fair 15% share of weekly earnings. It wasn't easy, but fairness was the foundation of their new identity.
Despite modest gold profits, the silver and bronze coins piled high in their coffers were more than enough. Thanks to their own currency exchange rates, much of it could be converted to gold—enough to feed families and keep the trade alive.
He leaned back slightly, stretching his arms with a relieved sigh.
"Whoa, this is a huge improvement compared to when we started as Genco Pura. We've earned more in our opening week than we ever expected," he said, allowing himself a brief smirk. "Guess people around here really do love their olive oil."
But the smirk faded quickly. Concern crept across his face like a shadow.
"Still... Vito wants to send a message to Gamal himself... and on his own turf, no less."
He tapped his fingers against the wooden desk, his expression clouded with unease.
"I just hope nothing bad happens to them."
The silence in the room grew heavier as the sun dipped further below the horizon. Somewhere beyond the city's edge, a confrontation loomed—and Josef could only wait.
Night had fallen over the Entertainment District, and the streets buzzed with activity—the kind that thrived in shadows and secrets. Business was booming, but not of the reputable sort.
Vito and Gauri walked side by side through the lively, murky streets, eyes surveying the worn faces around them. Many bore expressions of quiet defeat, the look of people who had surrendered to the grim rhythms of life in this corner of the Empire.
"Vito-dono, this is—"
"I know," Vito interrupted calmly, his hands folded behind his back. "But don't lose focus. Our goal is Gamal."
Their objective was clear: arrange a meeting with Gamal and make him an offer he couldn't afford to decline.
A few people watched them with cautious eyes. Perhaps they saw easy targets—or perhaps they sensed something more dangerous beneath the surface. Neither Vito nor Gauri paid the onlookers any mind. The streets here were rough, but even the most brazen cutthroats avoided provoking an old man who walked with such quiet authority—or his vigilant escort.
"Vito-dono," Gauri said again, lowering his voice, "is this negotiation really necessary? All signs point to a trap."
"Gamal is impulsive," Vito replied, never breaking stride. "He gets cocky the moment he thinks he's in control. That's when we turn the tables."
Gauri nodded, but worry lingered in his gaze. "I hope you're right."
They soon arrived at their destination: a brothel where Gamal operated his business from behind a veil of velvet curtains and dimly lit corridors. The air smelled of cheap perfume and secrets.
As they approached, a burly guard stepped in front of them, his arms crossed. "State your purpose," he barked.
"Business proposition," Vito replied, his voice smooth and composed.
The guard's eyes narrowed, lingering on the elder man and his companion, evaluating them. After a tense pause, he stepped aside.
"Very well. His office is upstairs."
He gestured silently toward the staircase, where the real negotiations would begin.
Or so it seems…
At the balcony of his private office overlooking the bustling streets below, Gamal stood with his arms folded, surveying the city like a monarch over his kingdom. Clad in his signature silk kimono, patterned with golden cranes, he wore a satisfied grin. He had been riding a wave of confidence lately, bolstered by a plan he believed to be foolproof.
His scheme? Elegantly simple: invite Vito Corleone to a private meeting, catch him off guard, and kill him without ceremony. Afterward, he'd pin the crime on some poor, expendable soul and walk away unscathed.
A grim smile crept across his face as he chuckled to himself.
Hahaha… As long as everything goes according to plan, no one will dare challenge my control over the trade routes...
That delicious thought was interrupted by a sudden tingling sensation in his lower abdomen.
"Oops... I really need to go to the bathroom," he muttered, annoyed.
Gamal turned and walked briskly into the office interior, heading toward the bathroom just down the hall, unaware that his perfect plan was about to come undone.
Two crucial things he had failed to foresee:
Vito and Gauri were already ascending the staircase to his office...
And—
"I wonder if I'll have to take it again..."
A calm, cold voice sliced through the silence.
"Don't worry. I'll give it to you myself, Gamal."
Before he could turn, a pair of massive, golden-furred paws with vicious claws clamped around his neck.
"Gah!!" he gasped, struggling.
It was none other than Leone, the fierce and voluptuous assassin of Night Raid, her Teigu-empowered Lionelle form radiating raw power. She grinned ferociously, relishing the surprise in Gamal's eyes.
But she wasn't alone.
In the blink of an eye, another shadow emerged—this one silent, swift, and lethal. A blade glinted under the moonlight as it plunged into Gamal's gut.
It was Akame.
Her teigu, Murasame, did its work instantly. The cursed blade's venom coursed through Gamal's veins like wildfire, ending his life before he could even scream.
For good measure, Leone twisted his neck with a sickening snap and let the body fall to the floor with a heavy thud.
"You're lucky you got taken out by two beautiful women," Leone quipped, brushing her hair back with a confident smirk.
Their mission was over. The message had been sent.
Loud and clear.
"Well then, one down. Next stop: Captain—"
Her words froze on her lips.
Two unfamiliar figures stood at the doorway.
An old man with a drooping cheekbone under a worn trench coat. Beside him, a muscular man in a worn jacket exuded quiet menace.
"Looks like we stumbled into someone's hit," the old man remarked casually, his voice dry and composed.
Crap! How did they manage to sneak in?!
"Eliminate!"
Akame dashed forward with mechanical instinct. Her blade remained unsheathed, still slick from the earlier kill, ready for another.
Leone's eyes widened in horror as she recognized the older man.
"AKAME, NO!"
But it was too late—Akame didn't heed her warning. Her instincts were locked onto the intruders as threats. The burly man stepped forward to meet her advance.
Yet the old man merely raised a hand.
Akame's body halted mid-strike.
She felt it.
This pressure... it's suffocating...
Her eyes locked onto the old man's. And in that moment, a tremor of fear crept into her heart—something she hadn't felt since long before she'd joined Night Raid. She instinctively took a step back.
Leone, watching silently, understood exactly what Akame was experiencing.
Both sides stared at each other, tension heavy in the room like a coiled spring ready to snap.
Then, with an unnervingly calm tone, the old man spoke.
"You must be the assassini everyone in the Empire's been whispering about... Night Raid, wasn't it?"
"And you must be Vito Corleone," Leone replied, swallowing the lump of dread rising in her throat.
Akame's eyes widened in full realization.
She had heard the name "Vito" from Leone before, whispered in tones laced with unease, but standing before him—seeing the man in flesh and blood—was something else entirely.
It felt as if a ghost had stepped out of the pages of a forgotten history book, one soaked in shadows and sealed with blood.
"Gauri, warn the guards. Tell them Gamal is dead… make it look convincing," Vito ordered, his voice calm and unwavering, like a man giving instructions for a dinner reservation.
Gauri gave a brisk nod, his expression unreadable, and disappeared down the stairs without a word, his footsteps echoing faintly in the silence that followed.
"You—" Akame growled and lunged forward, her hand reaching for her blade, but Leone gripped her shoulder tightly, her fingers firm with warning. She shook her head subtly, eyes filled with a quiet plea and unspoken caution, signaling Akame to stand down.
"You have less than thirty seconds to get out before they arrive… not that it matters. They'll know who did it anyway," Vito said coolly, already turning his back to them, his attention focused elsewhere—as if they were merely pawns on a board he'd already finished playing.
Akame furrowed her brow, baffled by his words and the strange detachment behind them. But Leone understood. She didn't know Vito's full motives—few ever did—but the message was clear: he was giving them a head start. Why, though, remained an unsettling mystery.
"We lost our chance to kill Ogre… we need to leave," Leone said sharply, already stepping toward the edge of the balcony.
Akame hesitated, her grip tightening on the hilt of her weapon, but then she nodded. Without another word, the two disappeared into the night, swift as ghosts.
Left alone, Vito stood at the threshold, watching the quiet stillness of the room as Gamal's lifeless body lay crumpled at the balcony, poisoned and pale.