Black Rose in the Abyss Chapter 21

The year-end bustle of Brooklyn, wrapped in the warmth of everyday life, spread all the way to the orphanage on the edge of the city.

When Bianca and Dante arrived, the children had just received their Christmas gifts. Brand new clothes, books, and toys were piled on the floor.

As soon as the children saw Bianca, they cheered and surrounded her, shouting "Sister Bianca" all at once.

A little girl hugged her leg tightly, looking up. "Sister Bianca, you haven't visited us in a long time. We missed you so much!"

Bianca's heart softened. She squatted down and patted the girl's hair, speaking softly. "Sister will come often from now on."

Another slightly older boy looked at Dante and grinned, spilling the beans.

"Brother Dante comes often though! But when he comes alone, he never likes to smile. He just sits under that corridor over there and spaces out."

He pointed to the old corridor in the distance. "Once I even saw him sitting there crying!"

Dante's ears grew hot. He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I just come by occasionally."

Bianca looked up at him.

The winter sun fell on him, outlining a silhouette that was slightly thin but still upright.

She thought of those years he spent alone without her. Her heart felt as if it had been gently bumped by something.

"Dante," the director of the orphanage waved with a smile. "Perfect timing. We can't reach the high places to hang the colored lights. Come give us a hand?"

Dante agreed and walked over to take the string of colorful light bulbs.

He moved an old chair and stepped onto it. The children immediately gathered excitedly below, chirping and directing him:

"A bit to the left!"

"Oh no, that side is crooked!"

He was obviously not good at this kind of delicate work. His movements were a bit stiff, and he occasionally looked down to respond to the children.

Bianca stood in that halo of light, watching him quietly.

Watching him surrounded by children, watching the sweat slightly beading on his forehead, watching the gaze he occasionally cast her way.

The boy with the ruthless eyes in the Bronx bloodbath, the Godfather who turned clouds into rain on Wall Street, was now being laughed at by a group of children for being clumsy while hanging a small string of lights.

The last trace of hard ice in her heart melted quietly in this most ordinary warmth of the human world, evaporating into mist in her eyes.

The emotions that had spanned her heart for so long seemed to be ironed flat by this plain and real happiness in this moment.

She suddenly looked up at the somewhat disheveled man on the chair. Her voice wasn't loud, but it cut clearly through the children's noise:

"Dante."

He stopped his movements immediately and looked down at her.

"From now on, every year on this day," she looked into his eyes, a clear and incredibly certain smile rippling on her lips. "Let's spend it together."

Dante froze abruptly, as if he hadn't heard clearly, or as if he had been stunned by this sudden pardon.

The next second, he almost jumped directly off the chair, stumbling a step before standing firm, causing the children to burst into laughter.

He laughed along with them. He strode up to her, holding her hand tightly. A thousand words choked in his throat, eventually turning into a low and solemn:

"Okay."