The sky hadn't fully brightened yet; leaden clouds hung low.
Ray stopped in his tracks, looking ahead at the cemetery.
Rainwater slid down the wings of a stone angel, carving eternal tear tracks on its compassionate face.
This was the place Carlotta had chosen to meet him.
Why arrange to meet here?
In the distance, a bell tolled, urging him forward into the cemetery grounds.
Then he saw her. Carlotta, holding a black umbrella, stood quietly before a grave.
She looked far too young, incongruous against this domain steeped in power and death.
The rain grew heavier, drumming against everything around them, yet somehow making this place of final rest feel even more silent.
Ray moved with light steps, walking silently to her side, careful not to disturb the solemnity.
Carlotta sensed his arrival but said nothing. She simply bent forward slightly, placing a bouquet of fresh flowers, still fragrant with rain, gently before the headstone.
"Ettore Montelli," she spoke softly, her voice almost swallowed by the rain. "I swear in the name of the family that Giacomo Fasciaspina will personally offer you his lamentations. May his repentance grant peace to your soul."
Witnessing this, Ray couldn't help but slowly bow his head as well, paying his silent respects within the heavy atmosphere.
Even though he didn't know the person resting here, as a decent human being he felt empathy.
The cemetery was utterly silent. Only the ceaseless rain tapped against the headstones, a sound like fate knocking on a door.
This silence didn't last long before it was gently broken by the young woman's cool voice.
"You must have heard about the incident that caused quite a stir on West Main Street recently, the one involving a private Echo that suddenly went berserk and injured people?"
Hearing this, Ray turned his head slightly, his gaze resting on her. He gave a slight nod and answered in a steady voice, "Yes, I've heard."
In Rinascita region, the order of people's lives largely depended on the public Echoes meticulously managed by the Order of the Deep, maintaining daily stability.
Yet recently the Montelli family had begun openly and vigorously promoting the popularization of private terminals and private Echoes. This move was undoubtedly a direct challenge to the Order's authority.
And that was precisely the source of the irreconcilable, blazing conflict between the two.
"That was not some unforeseen malfunction. It was a carefully orchestrated attack," Carlotta said. "And the victims were us. If the promotion of private terminals and Echoes is hindered, the Montelli family will suffer an unprecedented blow."
"The family will not fail those who serve it well. Correspondingly, it will not let a single traitor go unpunished."
"Based on the evidence we have gathered so far, all clues point clearly to one fact, the Fasciaspina family played a pivotal and crucial role in this incident."
Hearing this, Ray had a rough idea of what Carlotta would say next, and what she likely expected of him.
Killing?
While Ray wasn't some naive, bleeding-heart pacifist, he was also far from a cold-blooded person who could take another's life without a burden on his conscience.
If he were sent to deal with a truly evil, universally detested individual, Ray would act without hesitation, stripping them of their right to continue living in this world to uphold justice.
But if he were to raise his weapon merely to fulfill the tangled power struggles between families, to take a life simply because of someone's personal ambition or greed, it would feel profoundly wrong to him, a stark violation of his own principles.
After all, no one wants to be a mere tool in someone else's hand, a sacrificial pawn in a battle for profit.
"Relax. I'm not asking you to kill anyone, that's my job."
Carlotta's words were crisp and direct, cutting off the tendrils of concern sprouting in Ray's mind before they could fully take root.
This only made Ray more curious about why Carlotta had sought him out.
"So, Miss Carlotta, the work I'm meant to undertake is..." Ray asked, a note of confusion in his voice.
"Your task is simple." A slight curve touched Carlotta's lips. "Help me gather all evidence linking the Fasciaspina family to this operation."
"..."
Simple?
I'm just a low-level employee, not some elite spy. How am I supposed to do something like that?
"What's wrong? That look on your face... are you scared?" Carlotta turned to him with elegant grace, tilting her head slightly as she studied him.
Ray instinctively scratched his head, his expression full of awkwardness and helplessness. "It's not fear. It's just... I have absolutely no idea where to even begin."
"Oh, that's what you're worried about." Carlotta's expression was relaxed, her tone calm. "No need to fret. Giacomo is the current head of the Fasciaspina family. He is obsessed with music and has built a lavish theater specifically to serve as his office."
"When the time comes, I will arrange a brilliant performance at his theater. You will use that opportunity to quietly infiltrate his office and search for any traces of evidence."
"In that case, Miss Carlotta, why not assign this task to someone within the family?" Ray couldn't help asking, his confusion growing. "Surely there are more reliable, trustworthy individuals inside the family than an outsider like me?"
"Precisely because you are an outsider that I'm entrusting you with this important task," Carlotta explained, her gaze deep and meaningful.
"What if I told you Ettore's death was not a simple accident? Doesn't it strike you as odd, a high-ranking member of the family dies in a sudden attack, yet the family's security forces were completely unaware and took no action?"
Having said this much, the implication was crystal clear.
Ray was no fool. He understood perfectly what Carlotta was implying.
A traitor had appeared within the family. She didn't want to startle the snake and disrupt the subsequent plans.
"So, Miss Carlotta, aren't you afraid of my betrayal?"
Hearing his question, Carlotta merely let the corners of her lips curve upward into a faint smile. "From the moment you asked that question, my worry on that front ceased to exist."
"Why?"
"Traitors don't ask that kind of question," the young woman said calmly. "Because they have a guilty conscience. Besides..."
She spoke softly, leaning forward slightly and tilting her face up to look directly into his eyes.
"I like your eyes."
"Especially when you're focused on something. They shine brightly, like precious gems."
"My intuition tells me you are a man of principle."
"Therefore, you are worthy of trust."
"So, you won't let me down, will you?"
In this world, the most agonizing pain is regret. And the most difficult regrets to settle almost invariably begin with trust.
To be precise, all love and hatred, all complex emotions in this world, start with trust.
Trust seems to be such an inexplicable thing. The reason trust feels so mysterious and lacking in solid foundation is that we all rely too heavily on our intuition.
And intuition is, more often than not, the least reliable thing.
His eyes reflected the young woman's smiling face. After a moment of contemplation, he gave his answer.
He would not betray her trust.
"As you wish, Miss Carlotta."