Every Mafia's Favorite Girl novel Chapter 122

Chapter 122: "One Minute Fifteen Seconds"

Inside the course, after firing into the sniper’s hiding place, Aren immediately resumed her run.

She flowed through the remaining obstacles with quiet efficiency, clearing corners, vaulting barriers, and dropping target after target with effortless precision.

The final targets rose and fell beneath the muzzle of her pistol until, almost absentmindedly, her eyes flicked toward the timer mounted above the course.

1:25.

Her eyes widened ever so slightly.

’No... I’m still too high on the leaderboard.’

’At this pace, I’ll finish above Rosalia.’

’That’s not good.’

Without changing her pace, she quietly adjusted her plan. As she advanced through the final stretch, her pistol barked repeatedly.

CLANG!

BANG!

CLANG!

BANG!

One steel plate fell.

Another remained standing.

Then another.

She deliberately let several shots drift just past their marks while subtly stepping into the path of incoming rubber rounds whenever the opportunity presented itself.

Each miss and each impact registered instantly on the electronic scoring system.

Above the arena, the Head Coordinator’s excited commentary rang through the speakers.

"Oh no!"

"What’s happening?"

"Ariana Lombardi is beginning to miss targets!"

"She’s losing valuable seconds!"

"At this rate she’s going to lose third place!"

"It looks like the final sector has exhausted her!"

Gasps rippled through the galleries. Every missed target drew another collective groan from the audience.

Many spectators winced sympathetically.

Others shook their heads, convinced the pressure had finally caught up with the inexperienced newcomer.

Jordan, however, was by far the most distressed person in the entire warehouse.

Standing quietly in the corner of the gallery with his arms folded, he watched every movement with unwavering concentration.

To everyone else, the mistakes looked natural.

To Jordan, who had witnessed her fight up close... they were complete nonsense.

His fists slowly clenched.

’...No.’

’That’s impossible.’

His mind immediately began calculating.

’One missed target.’

Five seconds.

’A deliberate vest hit.’

Ten seconds.

Another five...

Another ten...

One penalty after another accumulated before his eyes. He mentally stripped every one of them away until his breathing stopped entirely.

’Without those penalties...’

’...she would’ve finished in one minute... fifteen seconds.’

’She would’ve beaten my record by seven full seconds.’

The realization struck him with physical force.

’She’s... hiding her ability...?’

’But... why?’

Back inside the course, Aren finally decided she had concealed enough.

No longer bothering to manufacture mistakes, she accelerated through the remaining stretch, vaulted the final barrier, and crossed the finish line.

The digital timer froze.

2:00.

The Head Coordinator stared at the scoreboard for a heartbeat before breaking into relieved laughter.

"She made it!"

"Ladies and gentlemen! Ariana Lombardi, competing in her very first Marchetti Trials!"

"And she’s done it!"

"Just barely!"

"With an exact time of two minutes, she secures the sixteenth and final qualifying position!"

"Ariana Lombardi is the first weapons consultant ever to advance to the second round of the Marchetti Trials!"

The galleries erupted into applause.

Excited voices immediately broke out across the stands.

"Can you believe it?"

"The Lombardi heiress actually made the top sixteen!"

"Not in a hundred years would I’ve believed that!"

"But she did!"

"She actually did it!"

High in the distinguished gallery, Giovanni Porto chuckled as he glanced toward Eduardo Marchetti.

"It seems fortune isn’t with me today, Don Eduardo."

He shook his head with open amusement.

"What an impressive run. I never thought I’d live long enough to see a Lombardi make it through a round of the Marchetti Trials, let alone Ariana Lombardi."

Eduardo’s expression barely shifted.

"I told you. She wouldn’t have an easy time with the course."

Outwardly, he appeared perfectly calm.

Inwardly, however, doubt quietly settled into the corners of his mind.

His experienced eyes had failed to detect the deliberately missed shots, but they had noticed something else: the effortless way she flowed through every obstacle, her frightening precision, and her extraordinary speed.

’Such skill...’

’Not even my veteran soldiers who’ve trained for years move like that.’

His eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly.

’Just what has House Lombardi done with you?’

He voiced none of it. The question remained locked behind his usual impassive demeanor.

Down on the course, chaos had already broken loose.

The unfortunate contestant who had occupied sixteenth place only moments earlier stared numbly at the updated leaderboard.

His own name had disappeared.

His shoulders slumped.

Tears welled uncontrollably in his eyes as several teammates awkwardly gathered around him, patting his back and offering quiet words of consolation.

Not far away, another crowd was rapidly forming. A flood of Marchetti soldiers and employees surged toward Aren from every direction.

"Miss Lombardi!"

"Lady Ariana!"

"That was incredible!"

"You’ve got to run drills with me sometime!"

"No, with me!"

"Please teach me how you move like that!"

Still breathing hard from the course, Aren found herself completely overwhelmed.

Surrounded on every side, with voices overlapping faster than she could process them, a familiar wave of shyness washed over her.

’T-There are too many people...’

’Who am I supposed to answer first?’

Flustered, she bowed again and again while waving both hands helplessly in front of her.

"Ah... yes... thank you very much."

"I really appreciate it."

"Thank you for inviting me."

"I’ll... I’ll do my best next time."

Unfortunately, her obvious fluster only made everyone find her even more endearing. More soldiers squeezed closer, eager to exchange even a few words with her.

Suddenly—

A broad, familiar hand reached through the crowd and closed firmly around hers. Before she could react, she was effortlessly pulled free from the overwhelming sea of people.

Aren blinked rapidly.

When she looked up, she found Jordan standing before her, tall and solid as a mountain.

His expression was a confusing blend of emotions she couldn’t quite decipher. There was happiness, relief, disbelief, confusion... and something else she couldn’t name.

The instant their eyes met, however, none of that mattered to Aren.

Her face lit up at once.

’Wait a minute...’

’The cameras might still be broadcasting.’

’Lady Sofia... Don Eduardo... They probably wouldn’t be happy seeing this.’

’Ah...’

’She must be uncomfortable with so many people watching.’

At the word machetes, every trace of embarrassment vanished from Aren’s face as though it had never existed. Her eyes sparkled with unrestrained excitement.

’I’m starting to figure her out.’

’Training... weapons... bread... and sweets.’

’Those four things can distract her from absolutely anything.’

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