Every Mafia's Favorite Girl

Chapter 58: "This Young Lady"

The weight of those words settled heavily between them.

For a moment, neither spoke.

Sensing the shift in atmosphere, Jordan quickly attempted to reassure Aren.

"But you shouldn’t worry too much. You threw me twice, remember?" A faint smile appeared on his face. "And I’ve beaten Sofia plenty of times. You’ll be able to handle yourself."

Aren returned the smile, small but sincere.

"I will do my absolute best."

The conversation drifted away after that.

As they continued toward the front entrance, a comfortable silence settled naturally between them. Yet despite Jordan’s attempt at reassurance, anxiety lingered in his chest.

He knew exactly what the Dark Room entailed. The underground maze was a nightmare of absolute darkness, a battlefield where sight became irrelevant and instinct ruled.

Fighting in broad daylight on a gym mat bore little resemblance to navigating those tunnels. Participants untrained in blind movement frequently lost all sense of orientation within minutes, while Sofia had spent her entire life preparing for environments precisely like that.

He stole a quiet glance toward Aren.

She looked thoughtful but calm, completely unaware of the fears gnawing at him.

’Why isn’t she backing down?’

’I literally just told her she could die during the competition.’

’She’s part of the underworld... but House Lombardi was never known for violence.’

’Why doesn’t she look frightened?’

’Not even a little?’

His gaze narrowed ever so slightly.

’Just what are you, Ariana Lombardi?’

’Why can’t I figure you out?’

Every unanswered question irritated him, echoing in his mind with each step he took.

Soon, they reached Jordan’s car, parked on the front grounds beneath the glow of the estate lights.

Aren bid him goodnight and remained standing where she was, watching until his vehicle disappeared beyond the perimeter gates. Only after the red glow of his taillights vanished into the darkness did she turn and head back inside.

As she traversed the mansion’s corridors, her eyes moved automatically, scanning her surroundings out of habit. She checked sightlines, monitored potential blind spots, and observed the grounds through the tall windows lining the hall.

By now, the process had become second nature. Every unfamiliar shadow, unusual reflection, or misplaced object received a moment of attention.

Then, she heard it.

A faint rustling sound drifted from the far edge of the garden.

Aren immediately stopped. Turning toward the source, she listened carefully.

’Better to investigate than assume it’s merely a nocturnal animal.’

Without conscious thought, her route changed. The sound had come from near one of the smaller side entrances used primarily by household staff, far removed from the heavily monitored front and rear gates.

Aren moved silently through the darkness beneath the trees, carefully minimizing her profile as she approached. When she crouched behind a manicured hedge, she spotted a figure dressed in a maid’s uniform.

The young woman had dark brown hair, and her back was turned toward Aren.

Her face remained hidden within the shadow cast by the doorway, making immediate identification impossible.

What caught Aren’s attention was her posture. The maid stood with her head tilted slightly upward, as though speaking to someone considerably taller than herself.

Aren frowned.

Earlier, every staff member on duty had been instructed to gather in the kitchen to share the cakes she had brought home.

’Has this maid not been informed?’

’I should tell her.’

’There might not be any cake left if she waits much longer.’

Having reached what she considered a perfectly reasonable conclusion, Aren rose from behind the hedge and stepped out into the open, walking directly toward the maid.

"Excuse me," she said quietly.

The maid startled violently, freezing for the briefest fraction of a second.

Almost immediately, she stepped away from the door and slammed the entrance shut, severing contact with whoever had been on the other side.

When she finally turned to face Aren, every feature of her face seemed strained by the effort of maintaining composure.

"M-My lady," she said, her voice shaking. "You startled me. What are you doing all the way out here? This area is usually just a thoroughfare for the staff."

The smile the maid put on looked fragile and unsteady, trembling at the edges.

Aren didn’t recognize the maid immediately.

The girl was likely assigned to the evening shift or worked in parts of the estate Aren rarely visited. Otherwise, she would have encountered her while distributing bread throughout the mansion in the morning.

Aren’s gaze drifted to the maid’s name tag.

’Daria.’

Silently, Aren assessed the young woman’s posture.

’Narrow shoulders.’

’Slight hunch.’

’Minimal muscle development.’

’Hands trembling, but no combat calluses.’

"Daria," Aren said at last, "what are you doing out here alone?"

She pointed curiously toward the closed door.

"Were you... talking to someone?"

Daria startled again. Her fingers tangled together in a nervous fidget before she forced herself to steady. freewёbnoνel.com

"...No," she replied, her voice wavering. "There’s no one here."

Aren stepped forward slightly.

"It looked like you were looking up at someone."

"No!" Daria insisted. "I was just looking at the sky. I... I was emptying the trash cans around the garden, my lady."

She retreated several steps away from Aren.

"I just handled garbage. You wouldn’t want to be touching me."

"I see," Aren said thoughtfully. "Then perhaps the others missed you when they called the staff together."

"Why?" Daria asked quickly. "Is someone looking for me? Is there a staff briefing?"

"Not a staff briefing." Aren pointed toward the mansion. "There are cakes in the kitchen."

Daria blinked. "C-Cake?"

"Yes," Aren confirmed with a nod. "The entire staff is gathered there right now. You should go quickly. I’m concerned there won’t be any left if you wait too long."

Then, remembering the disastrous reception of her bread that morning, Aren offered a sheepish smile.

"Don’t worry," she added reassuringly. "I didn’t bake those myself. I bought them on the way home from the best bakery in the Marchetti District."

Daria nodded so rapidly it was almost frantic.

"Of course! I’d love to try a piece. Even if you had baked them yourself, my lady, I would still be honored to taste them."

Aren smiled.

There was something strangely endearing about the maid’s desperate diplomacy, and the household’s collective determination to protect her feelings regarding her notoriously terrible baking.

"Let’s head back inside," she suggested.

Daria immediately fell into step behind her, head lowered and movements carefully measured. She seemed intent on avoiding conversation, but after several moments of silence, Aren glanced back at her.

"By the way, Daria," she said softly, "what are your duties around the estate? I don’t recall seeing you very often."

"I’m assigned to this section of the grounds, my lady," Daria replied, sounding calmer now. "Mostly smaller tasks. Cleaning, collecting rubbish, sweeping the gardens."

"Just maintenance work?"

"I work outside the mansion most of the time. I’m still relatively new, and I’m almost always scheduled for evenings. That’s probably why you rarely see me."

Aren considered this quietly.

’Garden maintenance and low-level duties.’

’Limited access to restricted areas.’

’Low probability of access to the detention level.’

’Conclusion: not a suspect.’

As they rounded a corner, a familiar figure appeared ahead.

Caio strode toward them.

His expression was perfectly blank, but the very flatness of it spoke volumes about the irritation simmering beneath the surface.

"What took you so long?" he asked.

In contrast, Aren brightened the moment she saw him.

"I ran into Daria on my way back," she said, gesturing toward the maid. "I was inviting her to share the cake."

"Daria?"

Aren pointed.

"This young lady."

Caio’s gaze shifted to the maid.

The brown-haired girl immediately lowered her head. In his presence, she was visibly trembling now. Apparently, she had not encountered the Don often, and certainly not at such close range.

Caio spared her only a passing glance.

He barely remembered the faces of most household employees. Aside from a select few people such as Leo and Mrs. Pecora, the staff blurred together in his memory.

His attention returned to Aren.

"Come with me," he said. "Daria can go to the kitchen."

Aren turned back to the maid.

"Please don’t forget to ask for the cakes," she reminded her politely.

Daria startled.

"Yes, my lady. I’ll head there right away."

Satisfied, Aren stepped toward Caio.

"Let’s go back," she said.

Caio immediately caught her wrist and guided her away, leaving Daria standing behind them.

The maid remained frozen in place for as long as the footsteps of the Don and his mistress echoed through the corridor. The moment the pair disappeared around the corner, every trace of nervousness vanished from her face.

The shy smile disappeared.

The trembling stopped.

She stood motionless, staring after Aren, her expression settling into something cold, irritated, and faintly murderous — the look of someone whose important business had been abruptly interrupted.

Calmly, she pulled a phone from her pocket and opened an encrypted messaging application.

Daria: My apologies.

Daria: Ariana Lombardi interrupted.

Daria: However, I approached the target without raising suspicion. I will proceed with befriending her. Beginning tomorrow.

A few blocks away, Gael Sartori sat comfortably in the back seat of a luxury sedan, one arm draped along the leather upholstery.

Moments earlier, the man he had dispatched to relay instructions to this maid — an operative he had embedded within Sartori Estate over a year ago — had returned with precisely the same report.

Calmly, Gael typed his response.

Gael: No problem with the package?

Daria’s hand moved unconsciously to the small vial sitting deep inside her pocket.

It was a concentrated liquid sedative, slipped to her by Gael’s subordinate at the gate only moments ago. Entirely colorless and tasteless — perfect for slipping into anything digestible.

Daria herself felt a quiet surge of relief that Ariana Lombardi hadn’t suddenly grown suspicious and ordered a body search.

Quickly, she typed back.

Daria: Package secured.

Gael: Good.

Gael: Administer it 30 minutes before luring her to the agreed location.

Gael: The formula is specialized. It won’t leave a single trace in her system in case you fail.

Gael: It’s enough to induce a heavy sleep, though it requires some time to take effect.

Gael: The others will handle the rest.

Daria’s reply arrived immediately.

Daria: Understood.

The messages vanished the moment she closed the application.

With that, she headed toward the kitchen for cake as though nothing at all had happened.