Every Mafia's Favorite Girl novel Chapter 58

Chapter 58: "This Young Lady"

The weight of those words settled heavily between them.

For a moment, neither spoke.

Sensing the shift in atmosphere, Jordan quickly attempted to reassure Aren.

"But you shouldn’t worry too much. You threw me twice, remember?" A faint smile appeared on his face. "And I’ve beaten Sofia plenty of times. You’ll be able to handle yourself."

Aren returned the smile, small but sincere.

"I will do my absolute best."

The conversation drifted away after that.

As they continued toward the front entrance, a comfortable silence settled naturally between them. Yet despite Jordan’s attempt at reassurance, anxiety lingered in his chest.

He knew exactly what the Dark Room entailed. The underground maze was a nightmare of absolute darkness, a battlefield where sight became irrelevant and instinct ruled.

Fighting in broad daylight on a gym mat bore little resemblance to navigating those tunnels. Participants untrained in blind movement frequently lost all sense of orientation within minutes, while Sofia had spent her entire life preparing for environments precisely like that.

He stole a quiet glance toward Aren.

She looked thoughtful but calm, completely unaware of the fears gnawing at him.

’Why isn’t she backing down?’

’I literally just told her she could die during the competition.’

’She’s part of the underworld... but House Lombardi was never known for violence.’

’Why doesn’t she look frightened?’

’Not even a little?’

His gaze narrowed ever so slightly.

’Just what are you, Ariana Lombardi?’

’Why can’t I figure you out?’

Every unanswered question irritated him, echoing in his mind with each step he took.

Soon, they reached Jordan’s car, parked on the front grounds beneath the glow of the estate lights.

Aren bid him goodnight and remained standing where she was, watching until his vehicle disappeared beyond the perimeter gates. Only after the red glow of his taillights vanished into the darkness did she turn and head back inside.

As she traversed the mansion’s corridors, her eyes moved automatically, scanning her surroundings out of habit. She checked sightlines, monitored potential blind spots, and observed the grounds through the tall windows lining the hall.

By now, the process had become second nature. Every unfamiliar shadow, unusual reflection, or misplaced object received a moment of attention.

Then, she heard it.

A faint rustling sound drifted from the far edge of the garden.

Aren immediately stopped. Turning toward the source, she listened carefully.

’Better to investigate than assume it’s merely a nocturnal animal.’

Without conscious thought, her route changed. The sound had come from near one of the smaller side entrances used primarily by household staff, far removed from the heavily monitored front and rear gates.

Aren moved silently through the darkness beneath the trees, carefully minimizing her profile as she approached. When she crouched behind a manicured hedge, she spotted a figure dressed in a maid’s uniform.

The young woman had dark brown hair, and her back was turned toward Aren.

Her face remained hidden within the shadow cast by the doorway, making immediate identification impossible.

What caught Aren’s attention was her posture. The maid stood with her head tilted slightly upward, as though speaking to someone considerably taller than herself.

Aren frowned.

Earlier, every staff member on duty had been instructed to gather in the kitchen to share the cakes she had brought home.

’Has this maid not been informed?’

’I should tell her.’

’There might not be any cake left if she waits much longer.’

Having reached what she considered a perfectly reasonable conclusion, Aren rose from behind the hedge and stepped out into the open, walking directly toward the maid.

"Excuse me," she said quietly.

The maid startled violently, freezing for the briefest fraction of a second.

Almost immediately, she stepped away from the door and slammed the entrance shut, severing contact with whoever had been on the other side.

When she finally turned to face Aren, every feature of her face seemed strained by the effort of maintaining composure.

"M-My lady," she said, her voice shaking. "You startled me. What are you doing all the way out here? This area is usually just a thoroughfare for the staff."

The smile the maid put on looked fragile and unsteady, trembling at the edges.

Aren didn’t recognize the maid immediately.

The girl was likely assigned to the evening shift or worked in parts of the estate Aren rarely visited. Otherwise, she would have encountered her while distributing bread throughout the mansion in the morning.

Aren’s gaze drifted to the maid’s name tag.

’Daria.’

Silently, Aren assessed the young woman’s posture.

’Narrow shoulders.’

’Slight hunch.’

’Minimal muscle development.’

’Hands trembling, but no combat calluses.’

"Daria," Aren said at last, "what are you doing out here alone?"

She pointed curiously toward the closed door.

"Were you... talking to someone?"

Daria startled again. Her fingers tangled together in a nervous fidget before she forced herself to steady.

"...No," she replied, her voice wavering. "There’s no one here."

Aren stepped forward slightly.

"It looked like you were looking up at someone."

"No!" Daria insisted. "I was just looking at the sky. I... I was emptying the trash cans around the garden, my lady."

She retreated several steps away from Aren.

"I just handled garbage. You wouldn’t want to be touching me."

"I see," Aren said thoughtfully. "Then perhaps the others missed you when they called the staff together."

"Why?" Daria asked quickly. "Is someone looking for me? Is there a staff briefing?"

’Garden maintenance and low-level duties.’

’Limited access to restricted areas.’

’Low probability of access to the detention level.’

’Conclusion: not a suspect.’

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