As A Mafia Boss, I Refuse To Be An Extra-Chapter 81: Meeting Brian Again II

"When?" Damian finally asked after some time passed.

"Tomorrow morning. I received the official transfer orders this afternoon."

Brian’s voice was carefully neutral, professional.

"My replacement is already on their way to Tranquil City. The SFD wants someone new monitoring your therapy sessions and general activities.

Since I didn’t manage to give them a reason to come after you. They removed me."

"I see... it was Ashley Blackheart who removed you, right?"

"...Yes."

More silence fell between them.

They walked past a fountain, the sound of flowing water filling the quiet between them.

"For what it’s worth, I enjoyed our therapy session during those first two months. You are one of the few I enjoy talking with."

Damian’s voice was quieter than usual, almost reflective.

"I think I’ll actually miss having someone to talk with who doesn’t want anything from me."

Brian laughed, but it was a helpless, slightly bitter sound.

"That’s funny, because honestly? Those sessions felt more like therapy for me than for you."

He ran a hand through his hair, his professional composure cracking slightly.

"You were supposed to be my patient. Someone I was evaluating and monitoring. But somewhere along the way, I started being the one who needed those conversations.

The lie I have been living for a long time... was shattered as well."

Damian glanced at him but said nothing, letting him continue.

"A lot has changed since we started those sessions, Damian. Things I didn’t expect and the things I always avoided, became more and more clearer in my head."

Brian’s jaw tightened.

"You remember what you told me during one of our early conversations? About there being a traitor in the SFD, someone actively helping the Shadow Council operate?"

"I remember."

"It seemed ridiculous at the time. Conspiracy theory nonsense from a paranoid student. But the more I watch how the department operates, the more I pay attention to what cases get prioritized and which ones get quietly buried..."

He trailed off, staring up at the moon.

"Your theory seems more and more accurate every single day."

They reached a secluded bench beneath an ancient tree and sat down without discussion, both of them settling into the familiar silence that had characterized their later therapy sessions.

"The SFD has become obsessed with you. Completely obsessed, as if they want to find anything possible to implicate you."

Brian’s voice was low, almost confessional.

"They know about everything that happened at the Academy today. The fight with the Imperial heirs, the injuries you caused, all of it. And... they also know about your activities in the outer region of Tranquil City."

Damian’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes sharpened slightly.

"How much do they know?"

"Enough. They know you’ve taken control of former gang territory. They know about the protection racket you’re running, though they don’t have all the details. They know you’ve killed more people again."

Brian pulled out two small bottles from inside his jacket.

The Phoenix. The same impossibly strong alcohol that Old Man Mike had given Damian months ago.

"I thought, since this is my last night in Tranquil City, we should share a drink. A proper goodbye between two people who’ve spent more time talking than either of us probably wanted to."

He handed one bottle to Damian, who took it without comment.

’Do I look like I’m a drunkard? Why does everyone keep on giving drinks to me? Well, fuck it.’

They opened the bottles simultaneously and drank in silence for a moment, the burn of the alcohol fierce and immediate.

"This stuff is terrible," Brian muttered.

"It grows on you."

They sat there drinking slowly, watching the moon climb higher in the night sky. Stars were visible tonight, countless points of light scattered across the darkness.

It was beautiful in a way that felt almost mocking given the conversation.

"You should be careful going forward, Damian. More careful than you’ve been."

Brian’s voice was serious now, the alcohol loosening his tongue enough to share things he probably shouldn’t.

"The SFD is sending someone specifically to monitor you. Not for therapy reasons but more like surveillance.

They want detailed reports on everything you do, everyone you talk to, everywhere you go."

"Are you warning me as an SFD officer, or as someone who thinks the system is broken?"

Damian’s question was direct, cutting through pretense.

Brian was quiet for a long moment, taking another drink.

"I don’t know anymore. Maybe both. Maybe neither."

He laughed again, that same helpless sound.

"You know what’s funny? When we first met, I was completely suspicious of you. Thought you were dangerous, unstable, probably guilty of many secret crimes we didn’t know of.

You can’t blame me. Your past is completely different from how you behave and how things unfolded in the Norrington Incident."

"And now?"

"Now I think you might be the sanest person I’ve talked to in months. Which is either a compliment to you or a confession that I have become insane as well."

Damian allowed himself a small smile at that.

"I’ll take it as both."

They drank more, the bottles slowly emptying as the night deepened around them.

"I became an SFD officer because I wanted to help people. Genuinely help them."

Brian’s voice had taken on a distant quality, like he was talking more to himself than to Damian.

"I had this idealistic vision of what law enforcement could be. Protecting the weak, bringing criminals to justice, making the Federation safer for everyone regardless of their status or background."

"What changed?"

"Reality is completely different from an idealistic view. Watching how the system actually operates instead of how it’s supposed to operate, I wanted to bring a change.

But as time passed by... the system changed me."

Brian stared down at his bottle.

"The SFD doesn’t exist to help people. It exists to maintain order. And maintaining order means protecting the powerful, controlling the dangerous, and keeping everyone else in their designated places."

"Sounds like you’ve had a crisis of faith."

"More like a crisis of reality. Faith implies there was something worth believing in to begin with."

Damian took another drink, studying Brian’s profile in the moonlight.

The officer looked tired. Not physically exhausted like Damian had been earlier, but mentally and emotionally drained.

Like someone who’d been carrying too much weight for too long.

"You remember that other Officer Brian you told me about during our first session? The one with the same name as me."