History Repeats Itself: Revised Prologue

If Alaude had to say something as a comment of sort when a certain person in neat vest and shirt walked to his direction, he would at least sigh.

He had heard about this one person from an informant he met at the last city he visited. One young, splendid mafia boss who every single mafioso he hired had devoted their entire lives to, he said (when Alaude refused to hear any more, the informant added; "if you were able to kill him, you would have your name on the top of the mafia world!"). Alaude chased no popularity, so it was absolutely expected that he had no interest in killing someone for big names. Moreover, even after seeing said person on that very moment, there was not even a hint of awakened interest in him.

But there was something Alaude wished to know. This feeling of refusal to move away from that person's path confused him (but it was not shown on his face, not even in the least). He couldn't move his eyes from said man's gaze, his legs betrayed his mind to move, and his palms started sweating. He had not even the slightest idea about why he acted that way.

He started having a list of possibilities in his head. Was he scared? No way in hell. Was he nervous? Not even in the least bit. The more he tried to find out why, the more off the answers became; and the more he forced himself to think of a reason, the closer that man had walked.

It was when he gave up finding out why that said man commenced stepping slowly. If Alaude was forced to be honest, he would at least acknowledge how graceful that man walked. It was as if his every step made flowers and grass grow on the ground he stepped on, Alaude remembered what a woman he bumped into whispered on the background.

Alaude refused to beg to differ, but he thought the man was much, much more graceful than what everyone else had seen.

That man stopped, and Alaude knew that said man was trying to make a distance between the two of them. Even though it was only about a few inches, it still felt as if they were standing right in front of each others' faces. Both of their lips were closed; and none of them was willing to start a conversation first (which Alaude had always refused to do). On the first place, there was not even a reason for them to converse, especially not out of the blue like this.

For once, Alaude was proven wrong. It was not completely out of the blue, as that man curved a smile with his pale lips (which Alaude guessed had suffered from a lot) and spoke in an incoherent yet demanding voice; "My name is Giotto."

Alaude stayed quiet, thinking of what he was supposed to do in such situation. Was he supposed to answer by telling that Giotto guy his name as well? He just had no idea why he should. So he did not respond, letting the man in front of him to continue.

"...hn," Giotto chuckled gently, used his folded fingers to cover his mouth, and asked in the same demanding tone, "Would you like to have a dinner together later?"

Alaude was seriously at loss of words. Never once he had someone coming to him and inviting him on a dinner (in which mostly was caused by his act of scaring each of them away), and in such a sudden action at that. He was not able to think clearly of how to respond.

But Giotto seemed to understand that, and patted his shoulder softly. Alaude glared at him by instinct and stepped back; not letting even a person to touch him was his pride, or so how he had always believed. He was disturbed when Giotto's puzzled look changed way too quickly to an amused one.

"It would be a pleasant surprise if you're willing to meet up for dinner tonight, sir." Giotto told him, and Alaude felt how wrong it was for a mafia boss to call someone as if that someone was in higher status than he was (though he actually did not mind about it).

Giotto smiled at him, as if telling him that he would be waiting on that very spot later at night, and turned his back to Alaude, walking to the opposite direction.

And then Alaude felt his eyes averting and his mouth exhaling. As the man started to disappear from his sight, Alaude wished his stomach would not grumble. It was only a talk about dinner, which he refused to have. He had his dignity to keep. A dinner with someone would never become one of his things.

...especially not right now.

Yeah, I know, I betrayed you guys. It had been a super long time since I last updated, so, sorry.

This one is another prologue, which I think is better than the one from before. What do you guys think? When it's decided, I will delete one of the prologues.

Again, sorry.