As A Mafia Boss, I Refuse To Be An Extra

Chapter 133: Kill Them All IIMike’s question wasn’t challenging Damian’s authority.

It was the question of an experienced subordinate making sure his leader had fully considered the risks and was committed to the course of action.

Damian’s eyes went even colder, his voice dropping to barely above a whisper but carrying absolute conviction.

"These students systematically raped commoner girls over years.

Multiple victims each.

They used their family power and Academy protection to ensure no consequences ever touched them.

They bragged about it to each other, traded advice on which girls were most vulnerable, treated human beings as disposable toys for their entertainment.

" His jaw clenched.

"I will not tolerate that.

I will not build an empire that allows predators to operate with impunity just because they have the right family names.

These twenty-three are going to serve as examples of what happens when you cross certain lines, even if nobody else ever knows we were the ones who enforced that boundary.

The victims will surely be able to connect the dots that someone helped.

" "...

Then consider it done.

I’ll assemble the teams and begin operations planning immediately.

You’ll receive confirmation as each target is handled.

" "Good.

And Mike?

Make absolutely certain that nobody outside the operation teams knows about this.

Not the management teams, not the newer recruits, not even our most trusted city operations people.

This stays completely secret.

" "Understood completely, Boss.

Is there anything else you need?

" "No.

Just execute the plan carefully and report results.

" He ended the call and stood alone in the training room, his expression gradually shifting from cold strategist to something more troubled.

’Twenty-three executions.

Twenty-three students who probably have families who love them, who have futures and potential and possibilities.

And I just ordered them all killed without hesitation or remorse.

What does that make me?

What am I becoming when I can give those orders as easily as discussing the weather?

Sigh...

who am I?

What did that old man want to create?

Am I the Alessio he created?

Or am I doing everything on my own free will now?

’But even as the questions formed, he knew the answers didn’t matter.

Those students had made their choices when they decided other people’s bodies and dignity were theirs to violate.

They’d sealed their own fates through their actions.

Damian was just the instrument of consequences they’d never expected to face.

’This is what building something better requires.

Not just fighting the system openly, but cutting out the rot wherever it exists.

Even when nobody sees it happen.

Even when there’s no glory or recognition.

Just the quiet certainty that monsters don’t get to hide behind family names anymore.

’A knock on the training room door pulled him from his dark thoughts.

"Damian?

Are you still in there?

" Luna’s voice, bright and cheerful, cutting through the heaviness like sunlight through clouds.

He took a slow breath, consciously shifting his expression and body language, setting aside the executioner’s mindset and putting on the face of a brother spending time with family.

"Come in, Luna.

" She pushed the door open, her black hair tied back casually, her silver eyes bright with excitement.

Kuro was perched on her shoulder, the raven having apparently decided Luna was his favorite person, when Damian wasn’t available.

"It’s getting late!

We’re supposed to go out tonight, remember?

You promised me we’d have fun in the city before your birthday tomorrow!

Or are you planning to stand in this boring training room all evening?

" Her tone was playfully accusatory, hands on her hips.

Damian smiled, and the expression looked completely genuine, warm and affectionate.

"You’re absolutely right.

I’m sorry for losing track of time.

Let me grab my jacket and we can head out.

" "Finally!

I’ve been planning this all day!

There’s this new restaurant that opened up, and then I want to show you the night market, and there’s a music performance later that’s supposed to be really good!

" She grabbed his hand and started pulling him toward the door, her enthusiasm infectious.

Damian allowed himself to be dragged along, his smile never wavering, his demeanor showing nothing but happiness to spend time with his sister.

Kuro made a content sound from Luna’s shoulder, apparently approving of the plan.

To anyone watching, they looked like normal siblings excited about a night out together.

A teenage boy recovering from injuries and his younger sister who was just happy to have him home safely.

Nobody would have guessed that minutes ago, that same teenager had calmly ordered the execution of twenty-three people and was already moving on to thinking about how to spend a pleasant evening with family.

The disconnect between those two realities, the mentality required to shift between executioner and loving brother without any visible transition, was perhaps the most terrifying thing about Damian Valcor.

Not his combat abilities or his strategic mind or even his willingness to use violence.

But his ability to do monstrous things and then immediately return to normalcy without any apparent psychological friction or moral struggle.

As if ordering deaths was just another task on a checklist, no different from planning dinner or choosing clothes.

As they left Sebastian’s house and walked into the cool evening air of Norrington City, Luna chattered happily about her plans for the night, completely unaware of what her brother had just set in motion.

And Damian listened attentively, responded warmly, made jokes and smiled and acted exactly like the loving brother she believed him to be.

Because he was that person.

Genuinely...

The love and affection were real.

They just coexisted with the executioner and the monster wearing human skin.

Two truths existing simultaneously without contradiction in his mind.

And perhaps that was the most frightening thing of all.

**** Damian already had his repaired weapons stored in the new spatial ring Alaric had given him as a birthday gift.

The obsidian-black ring sat on his right hand, far superior to the crude one he’d taken from Marco months ago.

His axe, his gun, various knives and emergency supplies, all accessible instantly through thought alone.

But his motorcycle had been destroyed during the Shadow Council Ambush, so tonight they were borrowing one of Sebastian’s cars.

A sleek black vehicle that handled smoothly through Norrington City’s evening streets.

Damian had dressed carefully to avoid recognition.

Black jacket, large dark glasses that obscured half his face, a hat pulled low over his distinctive crimson hair.

He was famous now after the demon battle footage had spread across every news network in the Federation.

The last thing he wanted was to be mobbed by fans or reporters when he was trying to spend a quiet evening with family.

Luna sat beside him in the passenger seat, and she’d dressed beautifully for their night out.

A dark blue dress that complemented her black hair and silver eyes, simple but elegant in a way that made her look older than her fourteen years.

They spent the entire evening together, moving through the city like normal siblings enjoying each other’s company.

Dinner at the new restaurant Luna had discovered, where the food was excellent and the atmosphere was warm and casual.

The night market afterward, wandering through stalls selling everything from handmade crafts to exotic imported goods, Luna pulled him from vendor to vendor with infectious enthusiasm.

Then the music performance she’d mentioned, a local band playing in a small venue where the acoustics made every note feel intimate and personal.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Damian just relaxed.

He let himself be present in the moment instead of constantly calculating three moves ahead.

He let Luna’s laughter and joy wash over him without thinking too much.

It was nice...

and peaceful.

Almost enough to make him forget about the execution orders he’d given just hours earlier.

Almost.

But he was grateful for it anyway, for this small pocket of normalcy in an increasingly complicated existence.