In a small town stood an old orphanage.
That evening, a special buzz filled the orphanage courtyard. The children reveled in various games, their laughter echoing through the air. Amid this sea of innocent joy, car horns blared in the streets, and camera flashes popped, capturing every moment of a grand arrival. Bodyguards in pristine uniforms formed an imposing barrier between a man and the eager crowd. Spectators pressed against metal barricades, waving flags and signs with feverish excitement. Among the throng, journalists thrust microphones forward, vying for the man's attention or that of his guards.
The man himself wore a dark suit, his face framed by neatly styled black hair. The guards parted, creating a narrow path for him to reach the entrance. Without a word, he strode forward, stepping into the orphanage grounds. The heavy doors thudded shut behind him.
Suddenly, the man—graceful yet unsettling—appeared before the children. His presence sparked an instant reaction, sending them rushing toward him in a flurry of excitement.
"Big Brother! Big Brother!" they chanted in unison, their eyes sparkling with awe as they jostled to greet him.
He knelt to their level, gently brushing their rosy cheeks with a tender touch. "How are my little rascals doing? What if we all played a game together?" he suggested, flashing a dazzling smile.
The children, thrilled by the idea, nodded eagerly. Laughter and joyful shouts filled the air like a symphony of delight.
From a distance, the nuns watched this heartwarming scene, their hearts lifted by the happiness lighting up each child's face. One of them approached the man, offering a respectful greeting.
"Your Highness, we're so honored by your visit," she said, her voice trembling slightly with emotion.
He raised a hand gracefully to ease her concern. "Please, Sister, how many times must I ask you not to address me by my title here? 'Sir' is more than enough."
"Forgive me, Your High—Sir," the nun corrected herself, stumbling awkwardly over the word "sir."
He smiled kindly. "No need to feel uneasy. I understand your position—it's not easy. But I want to be seen as just a man when I come here."
The nun nodded.
"That said, tell me about the orphanage. Are there any shortages?" he asked, patting one last child's head before standing.
"If you'd follow me, Sir," she replied.
They began strolling through the orphanage grounds.
"Sir, since your last visit, we've fully renovated the dormitories," the nun explained. "Every child now has their own bed and a small space for their belongings. It gives them a sense of security and comfort they didn't have before.
"A local charity also made a generous donation—educational toys and books that have transformed our playrooms. The children spend hours exploring and learning, sparking their curiosity and creativity.
"We've introduced new educational programs too—reading, writing, and math classes, plus hands-on workshops like cooking and gardening. These activities help them build skills for their future.
"And thanks to more donations, we've upgraded our kitchen. The meals are more varied and nutritious now, boosting the children's health and well-being. We've even managed to organize educational outings with our benefactors' support.
"None of this would've been possible without your help and the community's generosity. The children are thriving and have brighter prospects ahead. We're deeply grateful."
He smiled. "Your efforts are remarkable. These children are lucky to have you."
Touched by his praise, the nun bowed her head humbly. "We're only following our calling and convictions, Your High—Sir."
He met her gaze. "Keep it up—keep giving these children your love and support. You're doing extraordinary work."
Guided by the nun, he continued his tour. Playful banter and cheerful exchanges flowed between him and the children, while the nuns they passed bowed respectfully. Eventually, she led him to her office.
The walls, a pristine white, proudly displayed large paintings of idyllic landscapes. A sturdy oak desk dominated the room, flanked by a leather armchair. Its weathered, tobacco-brown upholstery hinted at countless hours spent there. Shelves overflowed with binders and books, stretching endlessly along the walls. Daylight filtered through delicate white linen curtains, their long folds swaying gently in the breeze, casting dancing shadows across the room.
The man stepped forward and settled into the armchair behind the desk as if it were his own. The nun remained standing across from him.
But as her eyes rested on him, she noticed a shadow creep over his face. Peering into his gaze, she glimpsed a perverse, malevolent glint.
A heavy silence fell.
Instinctively, the nun dropped to her knees before him, hands clasped together. She dared to look up, and his eyes locked onto hers.
In a voice both calm and hypnotic, he addressed her: "My dear Catherine, how much longer must I wait? Are you testing my patience?"
A shiver ran down her spine, but she rose. "Your Highness, things are progressing well. Tensions between the noble families and the royals are escalating. The Ulrets have already shown open defiance, refusing to pay last month's tribute."
A cruel smile twisted his lips, a sinister gleam lighting his eyes. "My dear Catherine, is that what you call progress? Do you think I enjoy playing babysitter? You're jeopardizing your place here—and the safety of all these children you claim to protect."
She swallowed hard, her chest tightening. "I understand your frustration, Your Highness, but I believe this situation is more than satisfactory. The nobles are unhappy with the crown's decisions. Sooner or later, they'll reach a breaking point, and an irreparable rift will form."
He stared at her, his expression cold and unyielding. "You're not here for your own ambitions, Catherine," he said sarcastically. "You're here to sow discord and spark the civil war I need. Fail at this, and I won't hesitate to replace you."
A knot of dread twisted in her stomach. "I understand your urgency, Your Highness, but I also believe a gradual approach ensures our goal's success," she said, her words laced with forced resolve. "I assure you, the opposition won't hold much longer. Give it time, and this country will crumble."
He scrutinized her intensely.
For long seconds, silence blanketed the room, thick with tension.
Finally, he sighed, a wicked smile curling his lips. "Fine. Keep doing what you're doing. But don't forget—I expect results. Don't disappoint me, Catherine."
She nodded, a hint of resignation in her gesture.
Deciding the conversation was over, he stood, preparing to return to his tedious affairs.
"Your Highness, there's another matter," she said.
He stopped, glaring at her sharply.
Her heart raced as she awaited his response.
"Must I ask what it is, or do you enjoy keeping me waiting?" he snapped, his tone icy.
She lowered her head slightly, steadying her breath before meeting his eager gaze. "It's about a criminal organization that's recently made a name for itself."
She stood before him, anxious to see if he'd share her interest in this new group.
After a brief silence, he replied, almost disinterested, "And why should that matter? I trust you're not wasting my time with trivialities, Catherine?"
Taking a deep breath, she spoke solemnly: "This organization has gained the trust of several mafia barons and solidified its position in the criminal underworld—all in just a month."
His curiosity piqued, he sat back down, fixing her with an intense stare. "What's it called?"
She inhaled deeply, her voice trembling slightly. "It's called 'Dark Hand.'"
"Dark Hand, you say? An interesting name," he murmured, his eyes glinting with intrigue.
He leaned back in the chair.
"In less than a month, they've infiltrated traditional mafia circles and started taking over key operations," she explained. "Their methods are precise and calculated. They've gained ground fast by forming alliances with smaller, established groups."
"What's their main business?" he asked.
She hesitated, then answered firmly, "They're said to specialize in drug trafficking. Rumor has it their product's already found a sizable black-market clientele."
"Get me everything you have on this Dark Hand," he ordered.
She nodded respectfully.
He smiled. "Dark Hand, huh? Let's see…"