Dragon Raja 4; Chapter 76: Dragon Song in Ultramarine Hall (1)

Dragon Raja 4

In the small chapel deep within the Milan Cathedral, a statue of the Virgin Mary stood at the center, with intricately crafted stone sarcophagi lining both sides of the aisle. In Catholic tradition, distinguished believers were allowed to be buried inside the church to make it easier for their descendants to come and pay their respects. These marble tombs contained the bones of important figures, with their names and dates of birth and death engraved below, and in some cases, their likenesses carved onto the lids.

The newest sarcophagus was made of pristine white marble, and on its lid was sculpted a young woman dressed in a simple robe. To protect the deceased’s beauty from public view, the sculptor had covered her face with a veil. Yet, even with the veil, countless unrelated visitors still paused before the sarcophagus, admiring the beauty suggested by the figure and lamenting the fragility of life. On the side of the sarcophagus, her birth and death dates, as well as her surname, “Gulweig,” were inscribed in gold. She had died at the young age of twenty-six. Curious individuals had tried to trace her background, seeking to uncover the family from which this noblewoman came, but they found nothing, only that her funeral was conducted by the Pope himself in great mourning. Fresh orange blossoms were always placed before her tomb, and the lamps at the four corners of the sarcophagus never went out. Yet, no one had ever seen her family visit. When someone did come to mourn, the small chapel would be temporarily closed to the public, even if others’ ancestors were buried there. Anyone wishing to enter had to wait outside until the mourner had finished their ritual.

Caesar placed a bouquet of white flowers on the sarcophagus. “It’s raining today. The roads were hard to drive on, sorry for being late.”

He took out a small brush and began to clean the inscription, even though it was entirely unnecessary, as the tomb was spotless. But this was his ritual.

“Milan has been getting colder these past few years, they say it’s due to the El Niño effect… Work is still the same, endless emails and meetings. It feels like I’m running a financial company… The other day I thought about getting a dog, but Parsi said having a dog and not walking it is like having a child and not raising it, so I decided against it… That girl, Madeline, the one I used to go sailing with, came to see me last night. She told me she’s decided we should run away together, swearing that when I was fifteen, I promised I would. I don’t think I ever said that, but maybe my French was bad enough for her to misunderstand…”

Caesar never showed this rambling side of himself to anyone else, only to his mother.

Her funeral had also been held in this chapel. Since she had given birth to the precious heir of the Gattuso family, her funeral was held with the highest honors. But afterward, the family held a small reception to express their thanks, where everyone drank champagne and talked cheerfully, as if there was something to celebrate. That same evening, Caesar stormed into the reception with gasoline and set the place on fire, marking the beginning of his estrangement from the family.

He was his mother’s only mourner, never missing a single anniversary of her death. He would come whether he was in a particularly good mood or a very bad one.

After cleaning the inscription, he knelt before the sarcophagus. “Mom, I’m getting married soon. Everything is perfect, except that you won’t be at the wedding.”

After a pause, he added, “When we’re married, I’ll bring her here to see you. I think you’ll like her.”

There was no real need for him to say any of this. He believed that his mother was watching over him from the sky, knew everything he was doing, and had already seen the girl he liked.

As a Gattuso, Caesar was expected to grow up a certain way: to stand at the top of the pyramid and look down on others, traveling the world and sleeping with women, just like his father, the notorious playboy. But his mother had once said that even if she was no longer in this world, she would still be watching him from the heavens. So Caesar didn’t dare to do anything wrong, afraid that if he did, she would see.

He spoke for a long time, saying everything that came to mind. Finally, he said, “Mom, I love you, and I miss you. Ever since you left, I’ve been afraid.”

He stood up, bent down to kiss the smooth, jade-like hands of the statue, and turned to leave.

Just as he exited the Milan Cathedral, a silver Alfa Romeo roared up to the entrance, screeching to a stop. Parsi Gattuso stepped out of the car and gave a slight bow, the perfect picture of a well-dressed enforcer.

He had once been Frost’s secretary, often assigned to assist Caesar. Now, he had become Caesar’s full time personal assistant.

After graduating from Cassell College, Caesar joined the Italian branch of the Execution Bureau. The Italian branch was practically the Gattuso family’s autonomous domain, and while members of the branch received orders from the college, they were far more concerned with the Gattuso family’s wishes. Though Caesar was still a newcomer, he had effectively become the highest authority in the Italian branch, with all affairs reported directly to him. This required a highly efficient and dedicated assistant like Parsi to help alleviate the burden. In addition to this, Parsi managed Caesar’s numerous properties, bank accounts, and maintained the fleet of luxury cars and motorcycles — though Caesar hardly played with those toys anymore.

For the members of the Italian branch, Parsi was like Caesar’s second-in-command. Even if Caesar went missing, as long as Parsi was there, the branch would function as usual.

“I came to pay my respects, but you look like you’re in a rush to a funeral,” Caesar said with a slight frown. “Did something happen?”

These days, Caesar usually spoke to Parsi politely, but since it was his mother’s anniversary, he didn’t want business to disturb his mood.

“A message came from the monastery. Last night, Miss Chen left the island of her own accord and left a letter for you.” Parsi handed Caesar a sealed white envelope. “I thought it best if you opened it yourself.”

Caesar tore open the envelope and pulled out a plain white note. The handwriting was carefree, even a bit messy, unmistakably Nono’s style.

To my dearest Caesar:

Sudden farewells may surprise you, but as some poet said, life is always full of surprises.

You once said you were like a ship, sailing across many seas, and when you reached my sea, you suddenly grew tired of the voyage and just wanted to let go of the ropes and drift in the sunset.

If I am truly the sea, I am grateful for our encounter because the sea has found its white sail. The young captain standing at the bow, leaning against the mast.

But the ship has already sailed around the world, while the sea always stays in one place, rising and falling under the same sky. The sea has never been anywhere else and knows nothing of the world.

I really want to know what the world is like, so I’ve decided to leave for a while.

Or perhaps, this time you are the sea, and I am the ship. Please wait for me, give me some time, and you’ll see the white sail return. There will be a girl standing at the bow in a wedding dress, wearing a white captain’s hat. Just like when you first sailed toward me.

Yours,

Chen Motong

Caesar said nothing, folding the note and handing it back to Parsi.

“What did the letter say?” Parsi asked.

“The letter is in your hands. If you want to know, why not open it and take a look?”

Parsi read the letter and frowned slightly. “From the tone of the letter, is Miss Chen dissatisfied with the life planned for her by the family?”

“The letter wasn’t written by Nono. That flashy flirting style is definitely Finger’s handiwork. I don’t need to interpret what he’s thinking—he’s like a chameleon.”

Parsi reread the letter again. His Chinese was decent, but he couldn’t quite sense the “flirtatious” tone Caesar had mentioned. In fact, he thought the writing was rather touching.

“Nono would never write me a letter like this. If you could easily hear her innermost thoughts, then she wouldn’t be Nono,” Caesar said as he slipped into the car. “Here’s the latest news: Finger fooled the agents sent by the college to investigate him—just off the coast of Malta. He’s gone to Golden Iris Island, and Lu Mingfei probably went there too. For Nono, Lu Mingfei is her little brother. If her little brother’s in trouble, she’ll definitely step in.”

The Alfa Romeo sped along the highway outside of Milan, heading toward Caesar’s office in Rome. It was spring, and the fields were filled with lush rosemary and sage. Caesar sipped a glass of whiskey as fields of deep purple and light purple flowers flew past the car window.

He was certain the letter had been written by Finger; he could even picture Finger scratching his belly as he tried to guess what a girl might feel. But perhaps Nono truly wasn’t happy with the life Caesar had arranged for her?

Caesar was conflicted himself. When he first fell for Nono, she was a free-spirited red bird flying through the sky, wild and carefree. But when he wanted to keep her, she had to become more like a house sparrow. So, what did he truly want? To hold the red bird tight in his hand to protect her, or to watch her fly wildly through the sky?

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