BIA Ch. 140

It sounded as if he wanted to do everything for him now, things he couldn’t do back then.

How could I explain this feeling, this incomprehensible emotion? This feeling, having made a choice wanting to be this man’s only salvation, only to realize it could become a lifelong hell instead. How, in what way, could I possibly express this heart that is so happy yet agonizingly painful?

Just breathing in hurt my heart, yet at the same time, I felt so good it made the hair on my head stand on end. My solar plexus ached and my throat burned hot, but the electrifying sensation coursing through my body wouldn’t stop. My fingertips kept losing strength, making me feel like I would drop the pistol I held. I wanted to pretend not to notice and let it fall, to throw myself into Bran’s arms, but contrary to my heart, my hand gripped the pistol even tighter.

“Bran, I……”

Should I confess right now? What the real deal negotiated with Martino was. Should I honestly lay it all out, cling to him and ask for help? But there was too little time for that. There was something else that needed to be done first…….

Amidst the confusion, unable to bring himself to cling to Bran, he just squeezed the hand holding the pistol tightly.

Footsteps echoed from below the stairs. Not from the first floor. Much further down, a presence was felt right beneath his feet.

“Wait……!”

Isaiah pushed Bran aside and rushed to the railing. Leaning his waist against the railing, he stretched his body out as much as possible and looked down. He saw a flickering figure on the landing of the stairs leading from the basement to the first floor. Isaiah quickly gripped the pistol with both hands. Before the shadow disappeared from view, he aimed at the guy’s head and pulled the trigger.

— Bang!

Without a silencer attached, a gunshot almost like an explosion erupted. Bran, who had approached beside him before he knew it, frowned and spoke.

“Guess I’ll definitely need hearing aids when I get old.”

“If we live long enough to go deaf, that is.”

Replying nonchalantly as he descended the stairs, Isaiah belatedly felt a chill run down his spine, realizing his mistake. He worried what he would do if Bran asked what he meant, but fortunately, that didn’t happen.

“Of course, you have to live.”

Bran smiled and began descending the stairs with large strides, soon passing Isaiah to arrive first at the basement landing. And as soon as he saw the corpse with half its head blown off, he brightened up, saying, “Oh.”

“It’s a big catch.”

“Why? Who is it?”

“It’s Pastor Benjamin.”

“What?”

Isaiah leaped down the remaining four or five steps at once. But he couldn’t tell even after seeing the corpse. The blown-off face was a problem, but more than that, without the gown and stole that could be called the symbols of a pastor, he was just a fat ahjussi.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. He’s the fellow who baptized me yesterday.”

“I see.”

Judging by the direction the head was facing, the pastor seemed to have been coming up from the basement to the first floor.

“So there was a basement.”

Lest the words ‘you should head back now’ come out of Bran’s mouth, Isaiah quickly descended the stairs first. He expected an ordinary corridor like the first floor, but unexpectedly, as soon as the stairs ended, what he encountered was an eerie yet grand black iron door.

“This is probably the columbarium.”

Bran, who had followed him down before he knew it, said.

“Did this church have something like that?”

“Right? I just found out too.”

Perhaps Aunt Angelina is here. Bran said as he opened the door and went in first.

Seeing only the entrance door, he had vaguely imagined something like a spooky cave lit by several candles, but it wasn’t like that at all. Instead, it was very modern and neat. In the cabinet-style niches arranged neatly in layers like library bookshelves, photos, mementos, rosaries, and crosses left by bereaved families were tidily placed. Thanks to the bouquets brought by visitors, there was no typical basement musty smell, only a faint scent of flowers.

In that meticulously and refreshingly decorated space, there was only one dirty and messy thing.

“Chester.”

The guy was sprawled out in the innermost part of the columbarium, leaning against the niche where Aunt Angelina rested. Of course, he hadn’t intentionally come looking for Aunt Angelina; it seemed he just happened to end up there while seeking refuge in the most secluded corner. Judging by his condition, it was obvious he didn’t even know Aunt Angelina was here.

“Uh……, Manny……”

Chester even called Isaiah Manny when he saw him.

“What are you talking about.”

Isaiah approached Chester and kicked his leg.

“Snap out of it.”

Just how high on drugs was he? The guy showed little reaction even after being kicked in the leg. He just blinked his eyes slowly. Even those eyes were completely glazed over, taking ages for a single blink. It seemed like all the muscles in his body had gone slack. There were also signs of him having wet his pants, but it was unclear if that was from hearing the gunshot or something else.

“Ah……, Isaiah.”

Finally seeming to recognize Isaiah, Chester grinned foolishly. He looked so idiotic that Isaiah felt strange. A flood of diverse emotions—disgust, pity, revulsion, regret—washed over him.

Without realizing it, Isaiah spoke towards Bran behind him.

“This guy is just like back then……”

“No.”

Bran answered without even hearing Isaiah finish his sentence.

“What. How do you know what I was going to say.”

“Whatever you were going to say, absolutely not.”

Bran asserted again. Faced with that firm attitude, Isaiah couldn’t bring himself to say more and turned his head away.

Well, unlike himself, Chester was a guy who started drugs because he wanted to. Plus, he was following the typical sequence of a drug addict very meticulously. Never sticking to just one type, never quitting, relapsing even after quitting, doing it until death. They say addicts, if they only have the strength to breathe, will ask for powder even on their respirator, and Chester seemed to be living proof. To think that the only thing he could manage in a life-or-death moment was hiding and getting high.

“I-, Isaiah, you……”

Meanwhile, Chester, who had sluggishly pushed his sprawled body into a sitting position, forced his uncooperative tongue to move and stammered.

“Did, did you……, come to save, save me?”

At those words, any pity or whatever vanished, and he felt the blood drain from his body. This bastard, there’s a limit to how crazy you can be. How could he say that after seeing me?

“You bastard, why would I save you? Go ask Barone to save you.”

Isaiah kicked Chester in the side, angry. This time, it seemed to hurt Chester a bit. The guy slowly clutched his side and repeated, Barone……?

“Barone…… why, why, save me?”

“Why else? You two joined hands. There’s chaos upstairs right now.”

Chester didn’t seem to process Isaiah’s words immediately. After rolling his eyes for a long moment, the word he finally spat out was, “How?”

“You should know that, not me.”

“I don’t know either……”

Chester muttered blankly. The sound of Bran sighing came from behind. Feeling impatient, Isaiah gripped the pistol with both hands. Seeing the gun, Chester freaked out and shouted, “I-It’s true!”

“I, I don’t know either. Barone and I, h-how could we join hands.”

He must have been desperate, as his speech quickened. Instead, his pronunciation slurred so badly that barely half of it was understandable.

“Barone, he, he grinds his teeth at our, our organization. Bra-, Bran, that crazy bastard stole the drugs. Th-that asshole, of all things, stole La Co-, Cosa Nostra’s drugs…… fucking son of a bitch……”

Even while clinging to Isaiah’s pant leg, Chester was dying to curse Bran out.

Isaiah was taken aback and looked at Bran standing behind him. As their eyes met, Bran crossed his arms and said.

“It was probably Cedric.”

“What……?”

It was a name he hadn’t even considered. After all, Cedric was supposed to hand over all authority to Chester and step down from the Boss position as soon as today’s service ended. According to his own declaration, he was already neither Boss nor anything else. So why on earth.

“Father……?”

Chester, still clinging to Isaiah’s leg, looked up.

“Father, joined hands with Barone? To kill Bran……?”

“Well, he probably didn’t intend to kill you.”

Bran said indifferently.

“But he probably thought it couldn’t be helped if you died.”

This time, Chester shouted, “What?!”