★ Note: More details on how Dorian's food truck situation in the story differs from actual Italian regulations will come in later episodes.

"That was an interesting meeting. Lleuad was very direct. He told me that the Beyonder Market across Europe has its own rules and equilibrium, and that he is the architect of this balance." A faint cold smile appeared on Vittorio's face as he recalled the conversation from years ago.

This was the first time Vittorio had mentioned the exact content of that discussion. Pharos could imagine the scene, what kind of sparks would fly when Lleuad's arrogance met his father's authority.

"In the end, we reached a cooperative agreement." Vittorio continued coldly. "The Silver Flame Society can conduct conventional business in France, but all transactions involving Beyonders must go through his channels. In return, he guarantees our business proceeds without interference."

"That sounds more like tribute than partnership." Pharos once again felt the weight of Lleuad's presence.

Vittorio regarded his son and let out a short laugh. "Those were my exact words to him at the time. His response was that it depends on how I choose to see it. I could view it as respect for community customs, or as a deal that benefits both sides."

"So, what you're worried about now is that my relationship with Dorian might affect the family's agreement with Lleuad?" Pharos understood his father's implication.

"Or quite the opposite. This could be an opportunity to strengthen our cooperation." Vittorio narrowed his eyes meaningfully.

"What are you implying, Father?" Pharos, familiar with his father's temperament, remained outwardly calm, showing no sign of wavering. Strengthen cooperation. That was certainly a phrase laden with typical innuendo.

"I'm merely reminding you that in this position, none of our choices concern only ourselves. As for exactly how you choose, that's your affair." Vittorio leaned back in his chair. "I only hope you remember, whether as the heir of the Cesare family or as yourself, to act with caution."

"I'll remember that." Pharos observed his father's expression, understanding this was both a warning and a form of permission.

If their father-son relationship weren't in such a sorry state, Pharos might have actually said to the elder Cesare: "Hey Dad, you know what? I've actually already met his two fathers a few times and had dinner with them!"

As it was, Pharos didn't feel like talking, nor did he see any need to come clean. He simply rose and took his leave.

Before he left the study, Vittorio called out to him.

"Pharos, the anniversary of your mother's death is approaching. Don't forget."

Pharos stopped with his back to his father. He didn't turn around, but answered, "I won't forget."

The rare shared emotion between them had almost dwindled to nothing but the memory of Bianca. Despite their distant relationship, they both harbored deep longing for this woman who had died too young.

＊

At five in the afternoon, Pharos arrived at the "Vespers" club. This was one of the Silver Flame Society's establishments in Naples. On the surface, it was an upscale nightclub open to the public, but it had another face as well: a venue for intelligence exchange and secret meetings.

The club's VIP area was located on the third floor, its décor understated yet opulent, the lighting soft and easy on the eyes. As soon as Pharos arrived, the club manager personally escorted him to the reserved private room. Just as he reached the door, he spotted Flora already leaning against the wall playing with her phone. She wore her hair in a sharp bob cut and was dressed in a tight black leather outfit, bold and fiery.

"Well well, the Underboss looks like he's in a good mood today," Flora teased, for speaking to the young Don in such a manner was a privilege unique to her.

"Cut it out. Has the British arrived?" Pharos smiled faintly.

"Not yet. Should be here soon though?" Flora replied. The manager opened the door to the private room, and she walked in first. Pharos entered three seconds later. This wasn't because he was slow to react, but rather because Flora, as his subordinate and bodyguard, was meant to serve as the first line of defense, bearing any potential risks in the environment.

"So, you're letting me pick out a gift for myself?" Flora plopped down onto the sofa without ceremony, crossing her legs.

Pharos took a seat on the single armchair at the head. "If he really has something we're interested in, you can take one item."

"Got it, Underboss." Flora spread her legs apart and performed an exaggerated mock bow, making Pharos shake his head repeatedly.

The British Walker arrived shortly. He was a middle-aged man in lavish attire, wearing gold-rimmed glasses, his manner elegant and proper. The meeting atmosphere was rather relaxed. Walker brought materials on several special items, including a few jars of pearlescent powder that, when scattered in the air, could alter local optical refraction.

Walker was an eloquent speaker. Flora and Pharos examined the materials carefully. The former occasionally posed questions to Walker in a seemingly casual manner, her bold and straightforward attitude keeping the exchange atmosphere pleasant. Pharos remained silent most of the time, only speaking at key moments. In the end, he decided to purchase two items for the Silver Flame Society: the pearlescent powder and a manuscript documenting ancient secret rites.

"Thank you very much for your time, Mr. Cesare. It's my honor to establish a business relationship with the Silver Flame Society." Walker bowed respectfully, his face beaming with smiles.

"I'll have someone handle the follow-up matters. I hope this is the beginning of a long-term partnership." Pharos nodded courteously, his expression still bearing the solemnity of a leader.

After Walker left, Flora slumped against the sofa like she had no bones. "That powder is certainly interesting, but the price is a bit ridiculous."

"Worth it. By the way, get yourself ready. There'll be action soon regarding the Delano family." Although Romo would certainly brief Flora thoroughly afterward, Pharos still gave her advance notice.

"Finally! I was just needing to stretch my muscles!" Flora's spirits soared instantly. Then her smile suddenly turned even more radiant as she changed the subject. "Speaking of which, is our dear Young Don going to see that sweet-faced beauty with the food truck again tonight?"

"Don't go asking him to prepare some special dish for you again, Flora." Pharos raised an eyebrow. Unlike when he was with his father, his expressions now showed very obvious changes.

Flora drew out her words. "Oh, I get it. A privilege that isn't exclusive isn't really a privilege. Then tell him for me that I really loved that spicy sandwich he made last time!"

Pharos stood up, signaling an end to this topic. However, from the faint curve at the corner of his mouth, it was clear he didn't truly mind Flora's teasing.

＊

At half past seven in the evening, Pharos had changed into a less formal casual suit. He drove alone and parked on a street in Naples's eastern industrial district, the Zona Industriale. This area was far from the city's bustling center, the streets relatively quiet and somewhat run-down. Dorian's food truck was stationed in this area during this time slot, with local workers and residents gathered around, quite a few with Chinese faces among them.

Pharos didn't get out immediately. He sat in the car, gazing through the window at that cozy food truck and the pretty young man busy at the service window. Dorian was preparing food for customers. He wore his hair in a soft wolf cut, and today's outfit was an affordable dark blue T-shirt. His expression was reserved and fully focused.

Watching this scene, Pharos felt a peculiar sense of calm. After a full day of mafia business, power dealings, and careful calculations, this image seemed so real and simple.

After a while, he got out and walked toward the food truck. As he approached, the few people in line couldn't help but glance his way. Even in more casual attire, Pharos's handsomeness and innate air of authority still stood out in the crowd.

Dorian looked up, his eyes brightening slightly when he saw Pharos, though his expression remained unchanged. "Good evening. What would you like?"