The living room boasted an unmistakable mark of luxury and elegance. Walls were covered with rich, sumptuous burgundy wallpaper bearing intricate designs, and heavy, velvet drapes, held back by ornate tiebacks, allowed a flash of neon lights to filter through the room. A commanding fireplace dominated one wall of the room, its mantelpiece ornamented by gilded frames supporting the stern features of ancestors.

  The flames danced and warmed the room. Antique pieces lay carefully placed on the rich hardwood floor. Mahogany tables held delicate porcelain trinkets. Soft armchairs with intricately carved legs glowed faintly and offered comfort. A great piano stood in one corner. Its shiny surface caught the dim light and set the mood.

  Amidst this Victorian splendor, a figure stood by the colossal window and looked over the sprawling city below. The Boss wore a tailored suit and a silk cravat. His commanding presence cast a formidable silhouette against the city lights. Heavy brocade curtains framed the window. It opened onto red-light streets, dark alleys, and distant spires that seemed to pierce the heavens.

  The Boss stood in contemplation beyond the city's nocturnal symphony. He clasped his hands behind his back. The amber glow from the fireplace flickered on his stern face and revealed a man of authority and sharp calculation. His gaze pierced the glass. He surveyed the streets where shadows performed their nightly masquerade.

  The air carried the scent of burning wood and the distant hum of the city's nocturnal activities. The Boss narrowed his eyes and searched for secrets hidden in the city's winding streets. Each flicker of the lamps below mirrored the intricate workings of power and control. He ruled that realm.

  "You may be wondering why I called you here." The Boss spoke in a measured tone that cut through the room’s tension.

  Clavius gulped. His thoughts swirled with apprehension as he second-guessed every recent action.

  "Relax, Clavius. You haven't erred," the Boss said. "I remember when you rescued me. You were just an orphan caught in the crossfire." His voice carried the weight of gratitude and memory.

  His mind drifted to a distant night. A rival gang hid their sinister intentions in the shadows. They ambushed him on a winding boulevard.

  Bullets whizzed through the smoky haze and struck their targets with a sickening thud. The Boss winced as searing pain from a bullet wound shot through him and threatened to claim him.

  The scent of blood mixed with burnt gunpowder in the chaotic crossfire. Loyal bodyguards fell one by one. Bullets cut their final moments short. The Boss felt the weight of imminent danger. He had no choice but to flee. His hurried footsteps echoed against the cold walls of a narrow alley.

  He sought refuge in the dark corners of the alley. Damp air filled his lungs. Thick shadows hid him but also threatened him. Water dripped from unseen leaks and created an eerie rhythm. Cold bricks pressed against his hands and heightened his urgency.

  Wounded and weak, he stumbled and collapsed onto a heap of discarded refuse.

  Darkness closed in around him. A young Clavius moved through the streets. He was a scrappy figure surviving in a cruel world. He rummaged through the trash and unknowingly found the injured Boss.

  The Boss, now telling the story, remembered what happened next. He saw the shadows of the rival gang approaching. In that desperate moment, Clavius became his unwitting ally.

  "Hey, kid." One of the gangsters stepped closer and eyed him with a predatory glint. "Did you see a bleeding guy run this way? Where did he go?"

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Clavius did not hesitate. He raised his hand and pointed in the opposite direction. He unknowingly sealed a fate yet to unfold. His false trail led to the busy main highway.

  In the stillness of the present, the Boss let the memories play before him. The ember of his cigar cast a flickering glow on his weathered face. Smoke curled in the air as he recalled the unlikely savior who had stepped from the shadows of that alley.

  In the depths of memory, Clavius returned to a time when the city was a maze of hardship. He was just a child searching for survival among the discarded scraps of others. He remembered the morning after that fateful encounter with the Boss. The sun rose and painted the horizon with warm hues. A faint glow touched the litter-strewn alley.

  As Clavius sifted through the remains of a broken world, a sleek black limousine appeared. It cut through the familiar rhythm of his struggling life. A man in a sharp suit stepped from the backseat. His presence radiated refinement against the gritty streets.

  "Boy." The man's voice cut through the waking city's noise.

  The young scavenger hesitated. Confusion filled his eyes as he stepped closer. He stared at the man's wealth in awe.

  "Get in the limo."

  Clavius did not fully understand. Yet, he stepped forward. He left behind the only world he had ever known.

  Inside the luxurious vehicle, shadows hid a figure in the back seat. The Boss remained concealed. The air carried an unspoken weight. The man gestured toward the plush seat across from him.

  "Sit, little boy."

  He held out a small sandwich. Clavius, bewildered, stared at the offering.

  The Boss sat in the dimly lit space and watched. Clavius hesitated, then took the food. The moment stood still. A silent bridge formed between two worlds.

  The memory flickered.

  Back in the present, the Boss broke the silence.

  "That day you saved my life, you became my son." The Boss spoke. His words carried weight and filled the room.

  He turned slightly and locked eyes with Clavius. His gaze held the gravity of the moment.

  "I have a mission for you." His voice cut through the silence. "My daughter is missing. You may not share blood, but she is still your sister. I need you to find her."

  Clavius lowered his eyes to the coffee table. Pictures lay scattered like pieces of a broken puzzle. Among them, a woman's face stood out. Her features were soft and beautiful. Her golden hair fell in long, straight strands. The images carried an unspoken urgency. The room felt heavy with silent pleas.

  The weight of responsibility wrapped around Clavius like a familiar cloak. He took a deep breath. His fingers brushed against the photographs on the coffee table. He straightened with quiet determination. He turned toward the two men standing near the room’s entrance.

  “Elias, Vincent,” Clavius called. His voice carried the calm authority he had honed over the years.

  The two men stepped forward, awaiting their orders.

  “You know how we operate. Subtle, efficient.” Clavius gathered the photographs into a neat stack before passing one to each of them. “Deliver the message.”

  Elias, a wiry man with sharp features, nodded. “Who do you want me to contact?”

  “Send an encrypted email to Dante. Keep it brief. Just enough to make him understand the urgency.”

  Elias smirked. “Dante likes puzzles. I’ll make sure he gets the hint.”

  Clavius turned to Vincent, a broader man with a quiet demeanor. “For you, the old-fashioned way. Drop a letter in Alistair’s mailbox. Handwritten. No electronic trail.”

  Vincent gave a curt nod. “Understood.”

  Clavius stepped away from the coffee table and adjusted his coat. “I have somewhere to be.”

  Elias raised an eyebrow. “Where?”

  Clavius smirked. “Visiting an old friend.”