As A Mafia Boss, I Refuse To Be An Extra

Chapter 431: Salazar II

"There was only one person who never laughed at me." Salazar’s voice softened, the hardness bleeding away. "My nanny... She raised me and my siblings since our parents were always buried in family duties."

He turned the gun over again, movements almost absent now.

"The thing about children is they learn from watching the adults around them. My siblings saw how the family treated her. Just another commoner servant to be ordered around and ignored. So that’s how they treated her too."

His thumb traced the engravings on the barrel.

"But despite how everyone treated her, despite being dismissed and overlooked and never thanked for anything she did..." He paused. "She never stopped being kind. Never stopped encouraging me when I showed her my latest firearm design. Never made me feel like I was wrong for being different."

’Kindness...’

Damian looked away, memories of Nerra flashing in his mind.

"One day I couldn’t take it anymore." Salazar’s voice went quieter. "I was maybe Nine, had just endured another family dinner where my cousins mocked my ’toy weapons’ while my father sat there saying nothing. I found her afterward and asked..."

He paused, swallowing.

"I asked why she bothered... Why she kept being kind to people who treated her like she was invisible. Why didn’t she just do the bare minimum and stop caring about me?"

"..."

The silence stretched, broken only by distant sounds of water dripping.

"She looked at me for a long time." Salazar’s fingers had stopped moving on the gun. "Then she asked me a question instead."

His voice shifted, taking on a different tone, softer and older.

"’Young Master Salazar... when you lay down to sleep at night, what keeps you awake? What makes it hard to close your eyes?’"

Damian’s eyes narrowed slightly, listening.

"I told her I didn’t know what she meant. So she smiled and said..."

Salazar’s hand trembled fractionally.

"’Every night when I lay down to sleep, my conscience asks me one question: Did I do right by the people in my care today? Did I treat them with the kindness I’d want shown to me?’"

His voice became gentler.

"’The world is cruel enough without us adding to it. I can’t control how your family treats me. Can’t change the fact that I’m just a commoner in their eyes.’"

The words hung in the air between them, heavy with meaning that cut deeper than surface explanation.

"’But I can control who I choose to be when no one’s watching. I can choose to sleep at night knowing I didn’t let their coldness turn my heart cold too. That kindness isn’t a gift I give you, young master...’"

He paused.

"’It’s a gift I give myself. The gift of knowing I’m still the person I want to be, regardless of how others treat me.’"

’She’s too kind for this world...’

Damian’s expression remained carefully controlled.

Salazar finally looked up, his eyes meeting Damian’s with raw honesty.

"Ever since I made the decision to sever our ties..." His voice cracked fractionally. "That question keeps me awake every night. Did I do right by you? Did I make the choice I can live with?"

He took a breath.

"And every night the answer has been no." The admission came out quiet but absolute. "Maybe I’m too soft. Maybe I should be able to make the practical choice and sleep just fine."

He extended his hand, offering the gun.

"But I can’t."

His voice became firmer.

"So I decided to follow my heart. Not for your sake, Damian. For mine. So I can look at myself in the mirror and recognize the person staring back at me."

"..."

Silence fell between them as Damian stared at the offered weapon, before speaking.

"When are you joining the military?"

The conclusion was the only one that made sense, the only explanation for why Salazar would risk helping him despite the family consequences.

Salazar’s lips rose up slightly.

"Leaving for the north as soon as this situation is handled." He shifted his weight. "The military is desperate for reinforcements. They specifically requested more members from the Blackwood and Verratoux families."

’Why them specifically?’

The question turned over in Damian’s mind, but he didn’t voice it.

They kept walking, the headquarters coming into view ahead, its damaged walls and shattered windows showing the scars of the attack.

When they reached the entrance, Salazar extended his hand again, the gun resting in his palm.

"Oi... Will you just take it?"

Damian looked at the weapon, then at Salazar’s face, his expression hardening into something certain and terrible.

"There might come a day when we’re standing on opposite sides." His voice came out flat and serious. "When the choices we make put us in direct conflict."

He held Salazar’s gaze.

"If that happens, this act of kindness might become something you regret. A weapon you gave me might be the one pointed at you and the people you care about.."

Salazar remained silent for a long moment, his face unreadable as he studied Damian’s expression.

Then something shifted in his expression, understanding settling into his features alongside acceptance of what Damian was really saying.

’Does he understand what I’m really saying?’

Whether Salazar grasped the full scope of it or just sensed the general direction, Damian couldn’t tell.

"..."

But after several heartbeats of weighted silence, Salazar looked at him with meaning in his eyes and smiled with something genuine and sad and final all at once.

"If that day truly comes..." His voice came out steady and certain. "I expect you to show me no mercy. You understand?"

He pressed the gun into Damian’s hand, closing his fingers around it.

"You fight with everything you have... No hesitation or pulling punches because of what we were to each other. You put me down as efficiently as you would any other enemy. That’s the respect I’d want from you if we ever reach that point."

Damian’s fingers closed around the weapon’s grip, the metal cool against his palm despite everything.

His crimson hair fell forward, obscuring his face as he looked down at the gun.

"..."

The silence stretched again, neither of them moving.

Then Damian’s voice came out barely above a whisper.

"And neither should you... Master."

The word hit Salazar like a physical blow.

His breath caught, his eyes going wide for just a fraction of a second before he controlled his expression.

’Master... He called me Master again.’

His throat tightened as he watched Damian turn away, watched him disappear through the headquarters entrance without looking back.

Salazar stood there in the damaged street, alone, his hand still extended where the gun had been.

Slowly, he lowered it to his side.

The sun broke through the clouds overhead, painting everything in gold light that made the destruction almost beautiful.

’It’s the second time he called me Master... isn’t it?’

His chest ached with something he couldn’t quite define.

Then another thought surfaced, unbidden and honest.

’What would it have been like if he were my son?’

The image formed before he could stop it.

Damian growing up in his house instead of wherever he’d been raised. Teaching him to shoot when he was small enough to need help holding a rifle. Watching him discover Omega Point for the first time with those sharp crimson eyes blazing with understanding.

A bitter laugh escaped him, quiet and directed at no one.

"You’re getting old, Salazar." His voice came out soft in the empty street. "Thinking about sons when you don’t even have a girlfriend..."

He started walking back the way they’d come, his footsteps echoing against broken pavement.

’Maybe I’ll find someone in the north... Some tough military woman who likes guns as much as I do.’

The thought carried a wry amusement that almost felt genuine.

’Assuming I survive long enough to meet her... But if I do survive...’

He glanced back one last time at the doorway Damian had vanished through.

Then he turned away completely and kept walking, carrying himself toward the north and whatever waited there.

Behind him, the headquarters stood silent in the golden light.