Dogs Among Withered Roses - Chapter 28

It was a stubborn ill‑fated tie that had continued since the first time they met fifteen years ago. In the end, it was a relationship that someone would have to end in tears. Since it had come to this, he hoped that Berenice would complain as much as she wanted and make him do even the smallest things, so that he wouldn’t feel pointless guilt for approaching her with the intention of using her.

Since later she might cry a lot, just as he once did fifteen years ago, she might even dream of a new revenge….

While she still could, he wanted Berenice to laugh a lot.

He truly did.

***

Ah, it’s so noisy.

Berenice, eyes squeezed shut, let out a distant sigh. If she could, she wanted to get in a wheelchair and run away from the hospital room.

As soon as the visiting restrictions, which had been in place so the patient could recover in sufficient rest, were lifted, not only the executives of the Valentiera Family but even Cecilia Castillo came flooding in as if they were one body.

Berenice opened her eyes slightly and shook her head.

She had thought the hospital room was quite spacious. But the fruits, books, board games, flowers, and other things the Valentiera Family members brought filled the bedside table and even spread onto the floor.

The hospital room, which had been quiet for nearly half a month without a single loud noise, was now bustling. Even though all she did was lie still and listen to their chatter, Berenice sat there with her mouth slightly open, her face drained as if all her energy had been sucked out.

Looking to the side, Andre, already half out of it, blankly flipped through the pages of a book. If he could leave, he looked like he would have already run out and dragged Michele back.

If Michele had been here instead, he would have at least kept up with their chatter to some extent.

Andre, who had never possessed that kind of sociability, and Berenice, who wasn’t in any condition for it, were steadily worn down by their endless chatter.

“…Why aren’t you leaving, Cecilia?”

The hospital room finally fell quiet the moment the members all streamed out at once because smoking was forbidden inside. Berenice leaned back against the bed as she looked at Cecilia, who still remained.

“I thought you might have something you’re curious about.”

With no preamble, she went straight to the point. Berenice blinked, caught off guard. Andre, who had been pretending to focus on his book and flipping pages without meaning, also turned to Cecilia with the same look.

“How was that mole exposed? Gordon Kramer.”

Gordon Kramer. A Federal Bureau of Security organized crime investigator who had infiltrated the Castillo Family and was killed. “Mole” was long‑used slang referring to a spy planted inside an enemy organization.

Cecilia smiled, clearly satisfied by Berenice’s equally direct question.

“I started sensing something was leaking a few months ago. At first, I suspected a different soldato, but I was wrong. I completely misread it.”

“Why?”

“Who would imagine a Federal Bureau investigator infiltrating a mafia family would be taking protection money and bribes on the side?”

“…What?”

Berenice asked back with a blank expression. An investigator posing as a member was extorting protection money and bribes in Castillo territory? What kind of crazy mole was that?

So there was another bastard like Russo Gucci.

“Maybe he thought the Bureau’s salary wasn’t enough for the work he did.”

Cecilia rubbed her forehead, saying it was already in the past, but even thinking about it again, it had been an unbelievably careless mistake. They’d known for some time that Kramer was skimming money little by little. But since there was nothing else particularly problematic, they never suspected he was an investigator. That had been their failure.

“So how did he end up getting caught?”

“Our ladies did a great job.”

As Berenice and Andre nodded as if they understood, Cecilia leaned in slightly and whispered quietly.

“And did you really think only the Federal Bureau would plant rats?”

“….”

“We know how to raise rats too.”

The room fell silent as if all sound had died.

“…Did it work?”

Catching and releasing one‑time informants in the police or Federal Bureau had been something they’d repeated for quite a long time. But planting someone deep inside like an undercover investigator within the mafia itself was not something easily accomplished.

“It did. We put a lot of effort into it.”

As if success had been inevitable, her muttering voice sounded almost like she was humming in satisfaction.

“That’s something to congratulate, then. So why are you telling me this? And in front of Andre too.”

“What do you think?”

Berenice swallowed dryly and let out a small scoff. “I’d rather not know.”

“I haven’t told anyone else. Alberto doesn’t even know. That child only contacts me.”

“How long are you going to keep doing this? Pretending to give gifts while actually holding a knife to my throat.”

Cecilia placed a hand over her chest as if hurt. “A knife? That’s a bit harsh. If you use that knife well, it’ll all become yours anyway. Why be so wary?”

“….”

“Relax your expression, Berenice. It means if you see anyone suspicious, don’t hesitate to tell me. You’ve heard things, you’ve seen things, haven’t you? Do you think they only planted Kramer? Do you think he only passed along our information? Do you think I’m doing this just to save myself?”

Cecilia’s soft voice, whispering as if telling her not to just push everything away but to think it through carefully, was gentle. Berenice bit her lip as if she’d gotten tangled up in something bothersome. She couldn’t shake the feeling of being drawn in for no reason, but it wasn’t wrong.

It was true that tensions had recently flared between the Valentiera Family and the Marino Family. But it wasn’t something that would last long. Needless to say for the Marinos, and Valentiera couldn’t completely reject them and turn away either.

Moreover, if it was true that Jonathan Weaver, Director of the Federal Bureau of Security, had decided to take them down, then those of similar colors had to band together as much as possible.

“You could tell Ricardo. Why me?”

“Ricardo doesn’t read other people’s moods.”

“….”

“He’s a man who’s ruled from above his whole life. He doesn’t know how to watch others. He lets you climb all over him because you’re his sister, but has he ever acted while watching your mood?”

Think about it, probably not. Cecilia muttered casually, but Berenice couldn’t refute it.

It was true. If Ricardo were someone who watched others, someone who considered others, then no matter how angry he was, he wouldn’t have beaten Andre and Erkin in front of her.

If Berenice hadn’t screamed and stopped him then, he probably would’ve hit Michele as well. Just like Antonio once did when he pressed her about her ‘use’ or ‘purpose.’

Leaning back in her chair, Cecilia crossed her arms. “Not reading the room and being straightforward is part of his charm, but honestly it’s useless when it comes to rooting out spies. He has good instincts, but you need to know how to hide them too, and he absolutely doesn’t.”

“….”

“For that reason, if someone in Valentiera has to know, Berenice, you’re the right one. I also know Andre is a man who wouldn’t let even a scratch touch you. So it’s fine for him to hear this too.”

After weighing things over, Cecilia smiled softly.

“Whether it’s a mole or a rat, catching the tail isn’t something you can do alone.”

“What about Emilio? There’s a reason the underboss exists, isn’t there?”

“I don’t trust men.”

Is Andre a woman? Berenice glanced at Andre, who sat there as if he barely existed. Cecilia, amused by Berenice’s look that said that made no sense, straightened her back.

“So value the ones who turn up nothing when you dig into them. Those kinds are rare.”

She was talking about Erkin. Not wanting to get caught on a careless remark, Berenice held her tongue.

Cecilia, saying she should be going now, stood up from her chair and asked teasingly, “Have you gotten close to Erkin?”

“….”

Berenice’s face twisted without mercy. At the clearly different expression than before, Cecilia’s eyes widened slightly.

“What’s with that face?”

“What about my face?”

“Want me to show you a mirror? You look completely off.”

“…No. He takes good care of me. Really.”

So much that it’s a problem, she thought.

***

The moment she entered the hospital room, Berenice stared blankly at Erkin moving about without a moment’s rest.

What she had told Cecilia was no exaggeration. Erkin, in the literal sense, took care of Berenice without lacking anything. He cared for her well, nursed her well, and attended to her well.

Enough that she sometimes wanted to test how far he would go.

Berenice quietly looked down at the coffee on the small table connected to the hospital bed, the fruit cut into bite‑sized pieces easy to pick up with a fork, and the apple pie Francesco had baked himself.

Lately, whenever Erkin went out and came back, he always brought something with him. He never came empty‑handed. It almost looked like he was trying to show Berenice the outside world, since she hadn’t been able to leave the hospital building for over half a month.

Various desserts, magazines, newly released mystery novels, or flowers….

Today, it was flowers. Bright yellow freesias.

Following Erkin’s movements, the freesias came in and out of view, and Berenice slowly swayed her upper body from side to side to find them. After organizing the fruit Cecilia Castillo had brought, Erkin was trimming the freesias.