The inpatient ward of Cagliari's public hospital was exceptionally quiet. Diavolo's leather shoes echoed with crisp 'tata' sounds as he walked.
It was rare; he hadn't walked so openly in the public eye for a long time.
But today was different. He considered himself the Emperor of Italy and would not allow his own weakness to show. Surprisingly, he actually cared a great deal about his dignity, but all this care stemmed from his own inferiority complex.
Diavolo tucked his long hair into his black fedora, pushed open the door, and found the woman he had almost forgotten lying on the grayish-white hospital bed.
Completely different from the first time he saw her, this woman, whose hair used to be so healthy, now had dry, yellowish strands, and her face seemed to exude oiliness and age.
Diavolo couldn't help but be surprised that he had ever been attracted to her.
He slowly walked to the bedside. The brown-haired woman seemed to be having a nightmare. Startled awake, she fluttered her eyelids open, her gaze first falling upon him.
"You..." She looked at the man before her in confusion. She had never seen him.
"It's a pity, Aufure. I haven't seen you in over ten years."
Diavolo said expressionlessly. Aufure stared at Diavolo with her emerald green eyes.
"Is that you, Solido?" A hint of joy and surprise appeared in her eyes. She suddenly remembered that she hadn't seen him in over ten years.
Diavolo looked at Aufure arrogantly. All the emotions that flickered in his eyes were entirely new to Aufure; she even began to feel as if she were still dreaming.
"I almost forgot I even had that name," Diavolo said in a low voice. His black pinstripe suit made him, this beast in human skin, look quite respectable, like a social elite.
"How awful. Look at what you've become now?" Diavolo glanced at the chair beside the hospital bed, finding it somewhat distasteful, then looked down at her and said, "You used to be the daughter of a diplomat."
"Whenever I see you, I feel irritated. Do you know why?"
"Because I always see my past."
Aufure couldn't believe that the man in front of her was her former lover. She thought he had changed too much; he was no longer the son of the famous captain of Orlia. Perhaps he had never been the son of a captain; after all, he told too many casual lies.
"You really—" Aufure tried to speak, but Diavolo extended a finger to her lips, signaling her to be quiet.
Then Aufure felt an invisible pair of hands pressing on her throat. She struggled to breathe like a drowning fish, let alone speak.
—King Crimson, in a place Aufure couldn't see, was fiercely pressing down on her throat.
Diavolo couldn't help but let out a cold laugh. The past was fragile and insignificant in his hands.
Passione, the organization that governed all of Italy, had a total of 756 relatively important members. They controlled the port of Naples, restaurants, shipping companies, construction companies, and funeral homes. Among these, the profits from gambling and drug trafficking were particularly astonishing.
Diavolo was not a social phobic; in fact, he was very much like a mob boss. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been able to maintain the operation of this massive organization throughout Italy so easily.
In Diavolo's view, as he himself put it, it was perfectly normal for one or two traitors to appear in such a large organization. In reality, many people were loyal to Diavolo.
Moreover, those loyal to Diavolo also received quite good treatment.
However, the Assassination Team, a powerful and unstoppable group of ten Stand Users, where even the Boss himself couldn't know their Stand Abilities in detail—as long as these guys weren't eliminated, Diavolo could not rest easy.
To put it plainly, people all sought peace of mind.
He wanted to sever the past, discard his weak past self, and, turning in the abyss of darkness, make new flowers bloom from hatred and violence.
"In Egypt, someone once said that a person's life is about rejecting fear and finding peace of mind," Diavolo said expressionlessly, his tone calm, even a little languid. Seeing this woman, he felt countless memories of his past resurface.
"As long as you're alive, I can't sleep at night. For my peace of mind, you should just die."
Diavolo, wearing black gloves, pulled a pistol from his Pregnant and aimed it at Aufure.
"Knock, knock—"
Two polite knocks on the door made Diavolo's forehead lightly dampen with cold sweat.
Is it the Nurse? Or someone from the Assassination Team?
He casually took off his hat, letting his long pink hair, speckled with blue-purple, fall loose. At the same time, King Crimson delivered a heavy blow to his former lover's neck, knocking her unconscious. Simultaneously, he activated his ability—
[Epitaph]
His pink hair fluttered up, and he saw the future—
The man of Latin descent was knocking on the door like a waiter. When he knocked for the fourth time, he lost his patience, shed his gangster facade, and burst through the door—
It's you, Illuso.
Your mirror man ability is still too dangerous for me, but fundamentally, of course, you betrayed me.
You will be the first of the Assassination Team to die. Diavolo slowly rose from his chair, taking off his suit to reveal his black mesh underwear—
Today is your death day.