BLACK DRAGON CONTRACT

Chapter 9: The Uninvited Guest

Marco’s usually gloomy apartment had changed colors tonight. There were cheap pink balloons stuck to the cracked walls, paper streamers hung from the ceiling fan, and the sweet scent of chocolate tart, fresh out of the oven, filled the room.

"Blow out the candles! Blow out the candles!" Maria clapped her hands, her face beaming. The new dress she had bought—an elegant blue silk gown—made her look like an upper-class lady, not the wife of a former dockworker.

Sofia, the little princess who had just turned seven, stood on a chair. Her eyes sparkled, reflecting the light of the seven small candles on the cake.

"Go on, sweetheart. Make a wish first," Marco said. He stood beside Maria, smiling.

But Marco’s smile didn't reach his eyes.

Since morning, the System in his head had been silent. Too silent. And for someone whose life now depended on danger notifications, the silence was the loudest alarm.

Sofia closed her eyes, clasping her hands to her chest. I hope Papa doesn’t come home smelling of metal again, the child thought.

Fwoosh!

The candles went out. A thin wisp of smoke curled up.

"Hooray!" Maria hugged Sofia, kissing her chubby cheeks, "Happy birthday, Princess!"

"Papa! Papa! Cut the cake!" Sofia bounced excitedly on the chair.

Marco picked up the cake knife. His strong, steady hand—the hand that had broken Vinnie’s neck just yesterday—now held the dull, serrated plastic knife with extraordinary gentleness.

"Hold on, Papa will cut the biggest piece for—"

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

The knocking sound at the door was soft, but rhythmic. Three slow knocks. Polite. Too polite for this slum neighborhood.

Marco froze. The plastic knife remained suspended in the air.

"Who is it?" Maria asked, wiping a chocolate cream smudge from Sofia’s cheek, "Did Julian or Bruno come? Didn't you say this was just for the immediate family?"

"Not them," Marco answered quietly. Julian would definitely kick the door down while shouting, and Bruno would knock like the police conducting a raid.

The knocking repeated. 

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

"I’ll get it," Maria started to step forward.

"DON'T!" Marco snapped. His voice was too loud, making Sofia jump in surprise.

Maria stared at her husband, confused, "Marco? Why are you shouting?"

Marco took a breath, forcing his facial muscles to relax, "I mean... let me handle it. You take care of Sofia’s cake!"

Marco put down the plastic knife. He walked toward the door. Every step felt heavy. The [Black Dragon] instinct in his blood began to boil. There was something behind that door. Something cold.

Marco peeked through the peephole.

Outside stood a tall man. His attire was immaculate—an expensive charcoal suit, a blood-red tie, his hair slicked back. His face was handsome but had a bone structure as sharp as a scalpel. He smiled directly toward the peephole, as if knowing Marco was watching him.

The System roared in Marco’s head. Blazing red.

[WARNING: HIGH-LEVEL ENEMY.]

[NAME: SILAS "THE BUTCHER" VANCE.]

[AFFILIATION: COSTELLO FAMILY (RIGHT HAND).]

[DANGER LEVEL: S-RANK (LETHAL).]

[ADVICE: AVOID CONFRONTATION IN FRONT OF CIVILIANS.]

Silas...

Marco’s heart hammered furiously. This wasn't Vinnie, the market thug. Silas was an urban legend in the underground world. The man who cleaned up Don Costello’s problems by meticulously cutting them into small pieces.

Why was he here? Why was he knocking?

If Silas wanted to kill them, he could throw a grenade through the window or shoot the door down. But he was knocking. This was a psychological game.

Marco opened the door slightly, blocking the gap with his large body.

"Wrong address," Marco said coldly.

Silas smiled. The smile didn't show teeth. His pale eyes stared at Marco unblinking.

"Good evening, Mr. Rossi," Silas's voice was smooth, like velvet wrapping around a throat, "I heard there was a party. I'm an old friend of Vinnie’s. I just wanted to... offer my condolences!"

"Vinnie is gone," Marco growled, "And I’m not accepting guests!"

"Oh, come now. Where are your Italian manners?" Silas pressed on the door with one hand.

Marco held it firm. A silent tug-of-war ensued. Marco was shocked. Silas’s strength was immense, equivalent to Marco’s System-buffed state.

"Who is it, dear?" Maria’s voice came from the living room, "Ask him if he's a colleague!"

Silas glanced over Marco’s shoulder, "Your wife is very hospitable. And your cake smells wonderful. Are you sure you want to fight here, Marco? In front of the little one?"

The threat was clear: Let me in, or I will spill blood in front of your child.

Marco gritted his teeth. He was outmaneuvered. He couldn't go into killer mode in front of Sofia.

Marco stepped back, opening the door wider.

"Get in," Marco hissed. "One wrong move, and I'll tear your throat out!"

Silas chuckled softly, straightening his suit jacket. "Don't worry. I am just a guest!"

cologne.

Marco stared at Silas with a murderous glare. His eyes began to glow a faint blue.

Silas was unfazed. He merely glanced at his expensive watch.

"My time is up," Silas said casually, "Thank you for the invitation. The cake looks delicious, but I have to diet,"

Silas walked toward the door. As he passed Marco, he paused briefly. He leaned in, his lips nearly touching Marco’s ear.

"Enjoy the cake, Marco," Silas whispered, his voice as cold as dry ice, "It’s your last one. The Boss sends his regards. He says, 'dock rats belong in the sewer!"

Silas patted Marco’s shoulder twice, then exited and quietly closed the door. Click.

Marco stood rigid.

"Marco Rossi!" Maria snapped, hugging the crying Sofia, "What was that? Your friend gave a gift, you snatched it, and then you just let him walk away? Are you drunk?!"

Marco didn’t answer. He walked quickly to the bathroom.

"Marco!"

CRASH!

Marco slammed the bathroom door and locked it.

His hands were trembling violently as he placed the tiny teddy bear in the sink.

He grabbed nail scissors from the mirror shelf. Holding his breath, he cut the stitches in the bear’s belly.

Sreettt.

The contents of the doll were not synthetic stuffing.

Marco fought back bile.

Inside the bear’s stomach, wrapped in thin plastic that had already leaked blood, lay a freshly severed sewer rat’s head. Its eyes were still open, its tongue sticking out. And tucked inside the rat’s mouth was a small, rolled-up piece of paper.

Marco picked up the paper with shaking fingers.

Neat handwriting in red ink:

"7 YEARS IS A BEAUTIFUL AGE. IT WOULD BE A SHAME NOT TO REACH 8!"

A direct threat to Sofia.

Silas hadn't just come to intimidate. He had come to tell Marco that he could touch Sofia anytime he wanted. He could have delivered a bomb, poison, or a knife. But he chose this. Pure terror.

Marco crumpled the paper until it was shredded. He turned on the water, washed the rat’s head, and flushed it down the toilet. Flush.

He looked into the mirror. His face was pale, but his eyes... Those eyes were no longer the eyes of a fearful man.

The System responded to Marco’s emotional surge.

[NEGATIVE EMOTION DETECTED: EXTREME RAGE.]

[NEW QUEST UNLOCKED: KILL THE BUTCHER.]

[REWARD: UNLOCK NEW TERRITORY & FIREARMS MASTERY.]

"Papa?" Sofia’s voice came from behind the door, still sniffling, "Is Papa mad at Sofia?"

That innocent voice shattered Marco’s heart while simultaneously burning his soul with hellfire.

Marco splashed his face with cold water. He opened the bathroom door.

Maria and Sofia stood there, scared by Marco’s expression.

Marco knelt, hugging both of them tightly. So tightly that Maria winced.

"I’m sorry, Papa is sorry," Marco whispered, his voice hoarse with explosive rage, "Papa is not mad at Sofia. Papa just... Papa has to protect you!"

"From whom?" Maria asked, confused, "That was your friend, wasn't it?"

Marco looked at Maria. This lie had to end, or at least, he had to act before this lie killed them.

"Eat the cake," Marco said gently, wiping Sofia’s tears, "Finish the party. Papa has to go out for a bit!"

"Go out where, this late?" Maria protested.

Marco stood up, grabbing his black leather jacket. He walked to the hidden drawer beneath the kitchen sink, retrieving the dagger he had stashed there yesterday.

He turned toward his family. The smile on his face was gone, replaced by the cold mask of the Capo.

"I’m going to take out the trash," Marco said.

He stepped out of the apartment, leaving the warmth of the birthday behind. In the dark corridor, Marco pulled out his phone. He dialed Julian’s number.

"Hello, Clown," Marco’s voice vibrated with bloodlust.

"Yo, Boss! What’s up? Boring birthday party?" Julian’s voice sounded cheerful on the other end, accompanied by faint screaming in the background.

"Gather the boys. Call Bruno," Marco ordered.

"Whoa, that tone is serious. What are we doing? Karaoke?"

Marco punched the corridor wall until it cracked.

"Prep the ammo. We’re burning Silas’s headquarters down tonight!"

"Finally!" Julian laughed wildly, "I'll bring the gasoline, you bring the match!"

The connection was cut off.

Marco walked down the stairs. Each step he took was no longer the stride of a tired father. That was the stride of the Black Dragon, newly awakened, and he was very, very hungry.

***