Path of the Demonic Villain

At about twenty minutes to ten, Dante was fully dressed in a tailored charcoal tweed three-piece suit. It included a long overcoat, leather boots, and a wool baker boy cap.

Currently, he was standing in front of the full-length mirror, but his gaze wasn’t fixed on his reflection, but on the silver lighter in his hand. The flip-top lighter bore the relief of a howling wolf beneath a crescent moon crest, which was the emblem of House Fioravanti. Dante flipped open the cap and clicked it shut several times, while he fought off the urge to pull out a cigarette.

Eventually, he turned around, pocketed his free hand, and walked out of the room. After descending the flight of stairs to the first floor, something caught his attention.

He caught a glimpse of a young, olive-skinned girl slipping out of the corner drawing room. When she turned around, her deep brown eyes widened slightly in surprise before easing into a familiar, playful glint, and a smirk tugged at her lips.

"Well, well. If it isn’t the capital’s most distinguished narcoleptic dirty mouth," Claudia greeted as she rested a hand on her hip.

Dante scowled. "And here I was hoping to only see beautiful things today."

A vein suddenly popped in the side of Claudia’s head. She forced her smile to remain as she shot back. "You shouldn’t be too surprised by this turn of events then. What’s that old saying again? Ah, right — Ugly sights are only drawn to ugly sights."

Dante’s brow twitched. ’Let me change the topic real quick. Her mouth is fouler than mine, and I don’t have the willpower to receive her damage gracefully.’

After a second, he sighed and asked, "What are you looking for here, Claudia?"

Claudia exhaled, releasing her forced grin, though she didn’t answer straightforwardly. She glanced past him toward the upper floor and asked, "Is she awake? We planned to go to the Grand Picture Theater to catch the afternoon film."

Dante turned to look back toward the staircase, raising an eyebrow. "You haven’t seen her already?"

"No. I asked one of the maids to let her know I’m here, and I was told she’s coming down. But God! It’s already been more than forty minutes!" Claudia scowled, crossing her arms over her chest. "I might just go drag her out myself."

Dante smiled and stepped aside. "Have fun."

As he began moving, Claudia called out. "How about you come with us? It’d be nice to have a man along."

Dante raised a hand dismissively. "I’d rather swallow glass than be seen outside with you, Claudia."

"Tsk." Claudia’s face twisted. "Fuck you. As if I actually wanted your miserable aura spoiling our afternoon anyway."

Dante smiled.

Just as he passed the drawing room, however, he noticed that Aunt Lucia was inside.

’She was with Aunt Lucia?’

He arched a brow and began to flip open and click shut the lid of his lighter as he descended the final flight of stairs toward the ground floor.

***

Central District...

9 Saint-Germain Boulevard, High Promenade.

——

"You want to get a suit tailored?"

Michael blurted after taking a drag from his cigarette as he stared up at The Golden Needle.

Most of the buildings in the Central District were three-to-four-story structures built in a uniform terraced style. The ground floors were usually reserved for high-end storefronts and commercial establishments. And they had their wooden signage and gilded emblems painted proudly across the facades.

The limestone building in front of them was no different. The name ’The Golden Needle’ was painted in gold script across the front of the brown wood, and dozens of immaculately tailored suits were displayed elegantly behind the glass.

After a moment, Dante exhaled a plume of smoke from his own cigar, then turned to Michael. "No."

He paused, extending a hand to lightly tap Michael’s side twice. "Ah... But I think you might need to get a new suit tailored."

Michael frowned and looked down at the brown, worn wool jacket he was wearing, before looking back at Dante. Then he asked, genuinely baffled, "What’s wrong with mine?"

Dante looked him up and down with a subtle grimace, then offered a flat, blunt answer. "It reeks of poverty, amico."

’What?’

Michael felt something break inside him.

This... this was his most expensive suit!

In fact, whenever he wore it, his confidence went straight through the roof. He genuinely believed he looked like a wealthy nobleman.

But hearing Dante say it reeked of poverty, all Michael wanted to do right now was to dig the ground and bury himself.

He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a hip flask. Then, he quickly unscrewed the cap and began chugging the alcohol as if it were plain water.

Meanwhile, Dante moved to the brass spittoon by the entrance to dump his cigar before walking into the shop, and the small brass bell above the door chiming softly as he pushed it open.

Not long after Michael pocketed his flask and wiped his mouth with his sleeve, trailing Dante inside, a man in his forties with gray hair and a receding hairline approached them. A cloth measuring tape hung loosely around his neck over an immaculate vest.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen," the man said, offering a bow as his eyes swiftly calculated the contrast between the two men. "Welcome to The Golden Needle. How may I be of service to you today?"

Dante looked around as he spoke. "I want to buy more than Signor Romani’s suits."

"Oh." The man straightened with a smile. "This way, then."

He turned and led them past the rolls of velvet and silk toward the back of the shop where a discreet oak door was hidden behind a rack of formal coats. The man unlatched it and swung it open with a low creak. Beyond it lay a narrow, carpeted staircase heading downward.

"Mind your step, gentlemen," the shopkeeper murmured softly.

Dante nodded.

With Michael following quietly, he made his way down the dim staircase until it opened into a vast subterranean hall that looked like an underground grand bazaar.

’A black market?’ Michael thought in awe as he scanned the cavernous chamber.

Back when he used to have a bit of money after becoming an apostle, he had once attended a black market exchange in Sylveria, so he was somewhat acquainted with the atmosphere of such places.

While his heart raced with excitement at the sight of rare goods and shaded transactions, a frown quickly crossed his face when he remembered that he wouldn’t be able to afford a single thing.

That realization caused him to sigh.

Just then, a man dressed as a valet approached the duo carrying an open velvet box filled with several appraisal lenses. After exchanging light greetings, Dante casually took one and moved on into the noisy crowd.

When the man turned to present the box to Michael, even though he was not planning on buying anything, he still maintained the composure of a gentleman and took an appraisal lens for himself.

Meanwhile, Dante approached a female floor guide and spoke calmly. "I need weapons and defense artifacts. Preferably Tier 1."

He needed to start with his immediate priorities. Once he was done securing those, then he could browse the rest of the market at his leisure.

"This way, Signore." The woman smiled and gestured for him to follow. She then led him past two crowded counters, before coming to a stop in front of the third, which was slightly larger and set with a row of artifacts.

Dante smiled and licked his lips.

’Let’s see...’