Mafia's Princess(Under Editing)

Chapter 1

Anastasia Rose

"Neo jeongmal tteonaneun geoya?" Eunha hugged me tightly, and I held her just as close. (Are you really leaving?)

"naneun eunhaleul mannaya hae nan nae miraereul mandeureoya hago, seonggongjeogigo doklipjeogin yeojaga doeeoya hae. Geurigo igeon naege keun gihoeya." I whispered, my voice trembling slightly. (I have to Eunha. I need to make a future for myself... to become independent, to chase my own success. This is a huge opportunity for me.)

I swayed gently in her embrace, trying to cling to the moment a little longer.

Though I was fluent in English—thanks to countless hours speaking with my Papa at home—I often found myself blending languages with Eunha. It had become our habit, this seamless switch between English and the casual phrases of our own private code. Eunha had learned English from a young age too, so our conversations flowed naturally, effortless and comforting.

"But I don't want you to go," she murmured, pulling back just enough to pout at me. "Who's going to hang out with me if you're not here? Who's going to keep me company?"

I smiled faintly. My Papa and Eunha were the only people who had ever seen me smile without hesitation. My usual expression—cold, unreadable, intimidating—was often misunderstood. Not my fault, I reminded myself.

Yeah, yeah my inner voice teased cold-bitch resting face strikes again

But it didn't mean I was rude. I just wasn't used to being around many people. Homeschooled my entire life, I only met Eunha in high school. From the first day, we became inseparable. She came from a comfortable family and knew everything about me—my fears, my quirks, my hidden soft spots—just as I knew hers.

We stood at the airport entrance, luggage at our feet. The terminal was bustling with travelers, but for me, time had slowed. I was leaving a place that had become home, yet home felt hollow without my dearest friend nearby. Thankfully, Eunha had been with me for that difficult year following my Papa's death.

"Jagiya, nan jeongmal tteonaya hae. Hajiman neorang hangsang yeollak hal georago yaksokhalge." I said softly. (Love, I really need to leave... but I promise I'll stay in touch. Always.)

Eunha nodded, biting her lip as if to hold back tears. Then, suddenly, her eyes widened as she remembered something. "And... what about your family?" she asked cautiously. "You know Uncle Ivano made you promise you'd find them after his death. You can't forget that."

I exhaled, a wave of apprehension washing over me. "I know, Eunha. But... I don't know how I'll face them. Will they even accept me now? Do they miss me? Or have they moved on without me? There are so many questions... I feel like I'm stepping into the unknown."

Eunha squeezed my hands gently, her voice soft but firm. "I can't promise it'll be easy, Anastasia. But you have to try. Be positive. Focus on the excitement—seeing your mom and dad, your brothers... reconnecting with your family after so long. That's something amazing, isn't it?"

I nodded, letting her words sink in.

"And remember," she added, a slight smile breaking through her sadness, "Uncle Ivano told you to leave for Milan immediately after everything was settled. You lost a whole year already."

I shivered slightly, the memory of that loss still raw. "What could I have done? I lost the person who looked after me... my guardian, my Papa's replacement. I wasn't ready... I wasn't okay at all."

"Nan ihaehae." She murmured, squeezing my hands once more. (I understand)

Finally, she stepped back. "Alright, if we stay here any longer, your flight will leave without you."

My throat tightened. I had only cried once in my life—at my Papa's funeral—and now, standing here, I felt the familiar sting of tears threatening again.

I picked up my suitcase and my small bag, wrapping Eunha in one last embrace. "I'll write. I'll call. Every day if I can," I promised.

She nodded, her eyes glossy, and gave me a tight smile. I waved as I walked toward the entrance gate, and she waved back, her face betraying the tears she was desperately holding back.

The flight to Italy would take nearly thirteen hours. A long, tiring journey awaited me, but nothing could hold me back now.

At the boarding area, I found my seat by the window, placing my bag carefully above the overhead compartment. I stared at the fading lights outside the terminal, feeling both fear and exhilaration. This was it—my first step into a future I had chosen for myself, far from everything I had ever known, but with the promise of new beginnings.

Italy... here I come.

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