Everyone in the room became more cautious toward Dusk, but none of them showed fear.
They were mafia—hardened criminals with countless sins to their names. How could they possibly be afraid of anyone?
"The ones I killed were already gravely injured. Even if they had received treatment, they would've lived the rest of their lives disabled. In such a chaotic era to come, they would have had no chance of survival. Letting them go peacefully was, in a way, mercy. Their strength, left behind in this world, now fuels me—so I can grow stronger, destroy the demons, and create a peaceful world."
Dusk spoke with a voice full of emotion. It carried both the determination to save humanity and the inner torment over his own actions.
He paused for a few seconds, then looked around at everyone in the room and smiled—a smile so pure it seemed almost saintly.
"Even if the world one day condemns my sins, I will not resent it. I don't need people to see me as a hero. I only wish for them to live the best lives they possibly can."
Those words, spoken from the depths of his heart, were enough to stir even the most cold-hearted men in the room.
"You... I never expected you to be such a noble man," Silas muttered, astonished. It had been so long since he had felt such powerful emotions.
The five young men behind him nodded repeatedly, their wariness toward this so-called mass murderer fading away almost entirely.
Seeing their attitudes shift, Dusk felt a sense of satisfaction rise in his heart.
'Good. Six out of seven now show some level of approval. Only one remains—and she's the most dangerous of them all.'
He thought to himself, his eyes quietly fixed on her, as though waiting for a signal.
At that moment, the boss lady remained silent in thought. Her reason and experience told her that everything Dusk said made sense—that he could be trusted. But for some reason, her instincts whispered unease.
But in the world of the mafia, living each day in uncertainty was perfectly normal.
With that in mind, she realized Dusk's existence didn't necessarily pose any great threat to The Crimson Vow.
"Hmm, I'll trust you—for now. Be my subordinate," she said, nodding slightly.
Hearing that, Dusk's expression darkened.
This clearly wasn't the answer he had been hoping for.
"Didn't you just say you'd consider it? Then why are you still forcing me to join you?"
She scoffed with disdain. A mere brat, daring to argue conditions with her?
Even though she wasn't much older than him in terms of age, her status in this place was absolute.
"I said I'd consider it. I never said I'd agree. And after considering everything, I've decided to stick with my original plan: recruiting you."
"You—!"
Now Dusk was starting to feel truly irritated.
If he joined this organization, how could he still call himself a good person?
He might be able to justify killing others as an act of mercy, but joining a mafia group?
There was no explaining that away.
Left with no other choice, he made a bold decision—a gamble.
He would bet his own life to bargain for something less.
"Then kill me."
As he spoke, he stepped forward, closing the distance between them.
He took her hand, lifted the pistol she held, and pressed its barrel against his own forehead.
His gaze locked directly with hers, solemn and unwavering.
Their eyes met.
The air around them shimmered with a strange intensity—no, not romantic tension, but the kind of suffocating tension that made your blood run cold.
His reckless move only served to anger her further. Anyone who dared challenge her authority never came to a good end.
The others in the room were stunned by his sudden act, silently praying that the boss wouldn't actually pull the trigger.
After all, they too had come to respect Dusk's ideals.
"Why are you so insistent on refusing me?" She asked, frowning, her voice laced with clear displeasure.
Hearing that, Dusk realized he had a chance to negotiate the terms.
He took a deep breath, his expression now filled with firm resolve.
"I have my own sense of justice. I will never join a criminal organization."
She narrowed her eyes, pondering his words. She felt there was a subtle hint buried within what he said.
It didn't take her long to piece it together, and soon, a faint curve appeared on her lips.
'Just as I thought—he's not actually a good person. But for some reason, he keeps insisting he is.'
She made a mental note but set the thought aside for now.
Her goal was to make him work for her. She had a hunch he knew much more than he was letting on, but at the moment, her understanding of the future world was still too limited to fully exploit that.
"You'll follow me and help us with our work. Of course, I'll always ask if you agree with the task before assigning it to you. If you don't, I won't force you to do it. However, you absolutely cannot leave me if I don't agree. That's the lowest compromise I'm willing to make," she said.
Hearing that, Dusk didn't argue further. A little bit of shady business didn't mean much to him.
The only issue was his desire to avoid being labeled as a mafia member.
"Alright then. Looking forward to working together," he said, nodding.
She nodded back—then suddenly threw a quick punch straight into his face.
The blow came so unexpectedly that he only managed to lean back slightly, reducing the impact on his mouth.
The punch landed squarely on his face, sending him sprawling backward.
She retracted her fist, a hint of surprise in her expression.
"Whoa, your reflexes are pretty good. With that kind of fighting potential, are you sure you don't want to reconsider being mafia?" she said, her tone carrying a trace of admiration.
"Cough, cough..."
Dusk sat up, coughing a few times.
Fresh blood trickled from the corner of his lips.
'What the hell?! This crazy woman just punched me out of nowhere?!'
But of course, he couldn't curse at her to her face.
In this place, she was practically a queen—and offending her would be incredibly stupid.
"I told you, I'll never be mafia. So stop asking. But seriously—why the hell did you punch me?!"
She slowly walked toward him, her eyes growing cold and carrying a hint of cruelty.
"You dare ask? Challenging me and getting just one punch is getting off light," she said arrogantly, as if her fist meant nothing at all.