Dilettante

“Ciao.”

The man tilted his head slightly and stared at her. More precisely, at the muzzle, and beyond it, the black pupils.

“If you come closer… I’ll kill you.”

“Coreano?”

“Si, come no.”

The man, with his hands in his pockets, slowly made eye contact and knelt down on one knee.

He gently grasped her wrist as he brought his forehead to the aimed muzzle.

Hana struggled to lift the corners of her mouth and quietly whispered the man’s name.

“Giulio Parenti.”

The voice of Giulio Parenti, who was staring at her lips with narrowed eyes, was cold and muttering.

“Ho aspettato. La mia morte.”

The breath she had been holding slowly exhaled.

He was a demon with the face of an angel. Or a monster.