Sorry, what?
I glance at Romina. She shrugs, as if to say "beats me." Uncle Bruno looks like he just woke up from a blackout. Fiore, on the other hand, stares at the others with the gaze of a Doberman ready to tear an ankle off.
"Are you… talking about me?" I venture.
"Oh, Milo!" Diamante swoops down on me, her voice as saccharine as last time. Today she's in a white pencil skirt suit, hair pulled up in a perfect bun: a luxury manager on a mission to devour souls.
She crushes me in a hug, and I make a face of discomfort.
Her eyes sparkle with a manic light, like she's staring at some delicious fruit, ready to be squeezed for her morning detox juice.
"Come, sit. Let's have a little chat," she says, dragging me toward a damask armchair in her little lounge; the rest of the room opens up like a choreographed stage.
Nicodemo steps forward and sits opposite me: elegant, arms crossed, and behind him, the Darks, members of the Dark Brotherhood, form a cloak of pitch. Diamante settles herself, with the Luminous members of the Lodge in white behind her. The elegantly dressed runner stands by her side.
Zuan is the only one not playing along: he remains standing, arms crossed, with an inquisitive glare.
I swallow. Little chat, huh?
"So, Milo, how are you?" Diamante chirps.
"Uh…" I try to answer, but Zuan growls, teeth nearly bared: "Cut the small talk. Can the boy do it or not?"
"Of course he can!" Diamante replies with the confidence of someone who's already written the ending to her own story.
Nicodemo shakes his head, uncertain. "We can't know. He's only manifested once."
"And under the Lodge's supervision, he will manifest again. I'm certain of it," Diamante continues, eyes sparkling with fervor.
"Ah! What a convenient coincidence!" Zuan snaps, clicking his tongue. "The Lodge is supervising the boy. What a surprise."
Diamante jumps: "What are you implying?"
"Implying?" he says bluntly. "I'll be clear. First, the Book of Command disappears, then—what do you know—the president's nephew suddenly discovers extraordinary powers. Are we sure this isn't all a little show to consolidate the Council in your hands?"
"W-what?!" Diamante pales, then flares up like a torch. "Are you suggesting we summon demons for political gain? How dare you!"
A lively murmur rises in the room as the three leaders speak over each other.
I watch them tear into each other. About… what exactly? I don't get it.
Suddenly, the elegantly dressed runner raises his hands, voice calm but powerful: "Zuan, may I remind you who you're speaking to? How can you accuse us of staging a show?"
The room goes silent instantly, but Zuan keeps staring at Diamante with that piercing gaze. In the end, though, he takes a step back.
"Uh… would you mind explaining to me what you're talking about?" I say. "What exactly am I supposed to do?"
The runner approaches, wearing the impeccable smile of someone who thinks he is bringing good news.
"Milo: I didn't recognize you this morning—you've grown so much. Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Oscar, Diamante's husband. Your mother—Sofia's father. I'm your grandfather."
Wait… what? My stomach flips.
A sharp jolt pierces my head like a laser. Instinctively, I press my hand to my forehead, but the pain fades immediately.
So… I even have a grandfather. Who hasn't shown up in twenty years. Neat.
My insides are buzzing so violently I can almost hear it in my head. Breathe, Milo.
Oscar gestures elegantly to the room. "I am also a high member of the Lodge of Light, like the gentlemen and ladies behind Diamante. Facing us are our companions of the Dark Brotherhood. And, of course, Zuan, indispensable for this discussion."
His tone is so calm and conciliatory that the tension in the air eases effortlessly.
Then, with surgical calm, he adds, "We're here to explain what happened in that parking lot. That night, when you faced a demon for the first time. After weeks of study and discussions among ourselves, we've come to a single conclusion."
He pauses briefly, taking a breath, letting the silence settle for a moment.
"Milo, you possess exorcism powers."
I stare at him. "Exorcism… powers?"
Then I look down at my hand, as if it could confirm his claim.
"Yes, and it's an extremely rare power among the Intuitives. Without even realizing it, you performed an exorcism," Oscar says with the affability of someone reading a weather report. "We don't have the Heptameron with us, so we can't prove it, but what you've described leaves no doubt."
The silence is now so thick that if I coughed, I'd probably be accused of treason.
I glance at Romina and Uncle Bruno: they have the expression of people who have just discovered their favorite series got canceled after the second season.
Then my gaze falls on Fiore. He's not looking at me; his eyes are fixed on Oscar, with that "growling-dog-behind-a-gate" expression.
I turn back to Oscar.
"So… what does this mean?" I manage to ask softly.
Oscar leans toward me, solemn, almost paternal. "It means you can send demons back to their world. Even without the Heptameron. It means you can save innocent lives."
And that's when Fiore snaps. He plants himself in front of me, broad shoulders, arms outstretched.
"Absolutely not, Oscar", he says sharply, voice low and furious.
The air crackles instantly.
"Milo is not a weapon to be wielded in your feuds."
"Our feuds!? Fiorenzo!" Zuan explodes like thunder, stomping forward so heavily that the floor shakes as he positions himself in front of Fiore. "I've had enough of your recklessness! Since you don't help anyone, get out of the way! You create nothing but chaos!" His enormous face is just inches from Fiore's, but Fiore doesn't flinch.
"It's not up to you to tell me what to do. Just like it's not up to any of you to tell Milo what he should do!" Fiore replies, eyes glowing pink-hot like live embers. "Ridiculous! Entire groups of so-called 'high members' who can't even agree on what to drink for aperitivo, coming here to dictate to a single person how to save the world? Do you even listen to yourselves when you speak, or do you just like the sound of your own mouths?"
"Fiorenzo, no one's saying he has to do it all alone! We'll be there to support him," Diamante interjects.
"Oh, sure, just like you've supported him for the past twenty years, right, Diamante?"
Touché.
"Fiorenzo, let's talk about this. The situation is critical—any help could be valuable," Nicodemo insists, gruffly.
"This isn't a request for help, Nicodemo! Forty of you pressuring one person—how is that a request?"
The room erupts again, voices overlapping, total chaos.
Fiore… I've never seen him this fired up. Every fiber of his body hums, pure energy slicing through the air. He even forces the massive ogre to take a step back, despite his size.
I watch him, I feel him… he really seems like a prince defending me this way, sword drawn, in that sexy light-green shirt.
I feel my mind detach. Everything else becomes distant noise; I feel outside my own body.
Time slows. It stretches. It bends around me. Like a rubber band, and I have no idea how much it can take.
What am I supposed to do?
What do I want to do?
Exorcism power.
Did it awaken in me the same way Empathy did, like Fiore said?
I don't know. None of this makes sense.
But it clearly matters to all of them. And a part of me gets it.
If it can really help, shouldn't I try to find a way to use it?
Even if I haven't quite figured Nicodemo out yet, he's right about one thing: any help could be valuable.
But I have no idea how to even access this ability.
I barely remember this world. I was thrown back here just a few weeks ago.
Everything feels new all over again.
And I'm scared.
Honestly, I doubt they know much more than I do.
Then Fiore's words echo in my mind: "Talk about where you are and what you do only with people you trust."
I look around at the chaos.
The only people I trust are right here: Romina, Uncle Bruno.
And Fiore.
Suddenly, something lights up inside me — a visceral, luminous jolt.
From my gut, straight to my heart.
I breathe into it for a second.
It's my intuition. I know it.
And it's speaking to me...
"Excuse me!" I call out, trying to get their attention.
Doesn't really work.
"PRONTOOOOO*!!" I yell at the top of my lungs.
Finally, the voices die down. Fiore whips his head toward me.
I let the room settle for a moment before I go on.
Yeah. This is it.
This is the right thing to do.
I don't know why—but I know.
*Pronto: it means "ready", generally used to answer the phone (meaning "I'm ready to listen") or, in this case, used to get someone's attention.