My heart steadily pumps a fretting coldness into my veins as Maurizo leads me to one of the closed doors in the back.

There are reasons why I play down my jobs in Little Italy. Unification did cut lots of opportunities but I guessed I made quite an impression to Angelo that the family still contacted me for some of the more sensitive work which I mostly declined.

Taking jobs from different families is always the safer way of operating, that way you wouldn't become an Aunt Sally or scorned a breaded bulldog of the gang. Especially now that the situations in most of the districts are stable, no more war among kins for now.

So the factions start side-eyeing their neighbors, the japs and the Santoro always having overlapping territories, the ten years' worth of blood debs between Russians and Tinos, and the latest arm business embroilments with the Qins that's spiraling out of control.

Picking a side is not a freelancer's fashion. The folks of Lanes like to play all sides, achieving a dangerous but lasting balance. That is why, till today, my colleagues at the Stynx are still busting me about why I dropped while I had a good thing going at the east.

The reason is but a talk on a windy night, with that man in a deep green three-piece suit, head resting on his palm. Humming a little tone.

***

The room Maurizio led me in is quite organized compared to the rest of the place. Sets of lights inside are concentrated on the spot before the mirrors.

Ebony cabinets of various sizes are filled with well-arranged clothing. The blazers under a couple of black mailer boxes are the first to catch anyone's eye.

They mainly consist of black, white, burgundy red, and grey. Suspend on the clothes rod, the coat hanger's hooks are turned vertically so the suit's fronts are facing the door. While the blazers overlap each other slightly like a parade, the clients and the tailor can find inspiration without nagging through the cabinets.

Under countless little drawers beneath the blazers are a row of leather shoes, shining under the task lighting. On the far right are six independent cubicles for shirts that look identical in my eyes. Next to the cabinets, by the east wall is a wooden changing table. Under it, are three rows of trousers all solely in black but differing in patterns and stripes. On top of it, is a decanter bottle half full with liquor and three sniffer glasses.

A mannequin with three different shirts hanging on its left shoulder and a red tie on his right. It stands silently in the corner while the trifold mirror across the room presents him from three different angles.

A couple of black and white photos all taken place in front of the tailor shop hangs on the west wall of the room. One of them only consists of two people in it. One's definitely a younger Maurizio since his facial structure and cheekbones are too recognizable. The other person in the frame is a slightly bigger man in grey stripes, head tilt up eyes gazing down the camera with a big grin that shows his teeth.

"Your colleague?" I ask pointing my thumb at the photo on the wall. Maurizio, while hands on the drawer under of lower cabinets, turns around with his brows raised.

"Yeah. And a cruel reminder from my past self." Now is my turn to raise my brows.

"How so?" Maurizio carefully extracted a picture frame that seals a piece of cloth with rows of buttons sewn on it out of the drawer.

"Well," He places the showpiece on the table next to the sniffers then turns around leaning back on the table, arms crossed, a smile on his face. "Every time I look at it. A cold wind brushes over my scalp."

I take a look at the picture again before returning him a friendly chuckle. Though I really can't tell if his hair was any thicker then.

"Now, Mr. Lee." Maurizio sings as he unplugged the crystal bottle and filled both glasses to an amount way above courtesy demands. "Arts are but details so let's start from there shall we?" Placing a glass at the edge of the table, the tailor makes a please gesture.

I take it with glee and raise the sniffer to scent it. Savour of Toffee and oak slides down my throat without making a fuss. Maurizio brings out the notebook from his inner jacket and unfolds it next to the buttons. I took a single glance before giving up.

I can read Italians, but not the Italians written by Italians.

He drifts off for a second as his brows changes radian, eyes fixated on the note as if deciphering his own words. A quarter of a minute passed as he swirls his whiskey glass in his palm before settling up his mind for me.

"The button choices might seem inconsequential but I can assure. You do not want them to bust your balls at the wrong time. And from the preferences you claimed earlier. I thought you would prefer a more…practical use?" I pause a second to make sure he sees my puzzled expression.

"Practical choice, for buttons?" Tailor gives a not so polite smile and proceeds.

"Of course! Nowadays people want their outfits to be as eye-catching as possible that they forget basics matter the most. The little things, you see. Can make all the differences." Maurizio reaches for a metallic one that hesitates between bronze green and copper brown, with the symbol of Ouroboros engraved on it.

"The purpose is for a club no? In any club imaginable, a certain amount of...... pompous, have to be shown. Else you won't be addressed by who you're aiming." Maurizio takes a sip of his drink too before a hint of a smile returns on his face. "Besides, this one came with some extra functions I know you would appreciate." His left hand once again gestures towards the button that shines gently under the lack of lighting.

I take a glance at the Italian who's encouraging me to try a button and let out a silent sign before I reach to probe it. Cold metal with meticulous decoration all felt the same, rugged and slick. But as my pulp pushes the edge, the fabric under it upheaves two triangle shapes around it. What the...

Another quick glance at the tailor before my curiosity got the better of me again. With my index and middle finger, I pull the button away from the display frame. The fabric around it uplifts close to the point of ripping before the resistance under the bronze button disappears with a clear clink.

I turn it around, and found the horizontal bar of this sleeve button is much lengthier than normal and it curls inward into one very sharp silver blade with leaf shape tip.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

"5.7 centimeters long. High carbon steel. Can easily tear through all kinds of resistances, including Kevlar. The edges were honed to perfection while it was made. I'm sure you can make good use of it. Those two razors can be separated manually back to normal. Very suitable for unexpected events in unexpected scenarios. But do be careful not to cut yourself."

The image of Alonzo's mortified face chewed a hole in my head before an inconspicuous hole opens up between his Glabella. And it expands, swallowing half of his face till the end of it opens. And a muzzle appears.

"I'm sure I could," I answered while tapping my fingertips on the sniffer in hand. The tailor notices changes in my facial expressions again and added.

"We have other variants if you would."

That was the second time today. I close my eyes slightly longer than a blink before I let a smirk slips from the edge of my mouth.

"No, it's perfect. Just reminded me of a time some tart almost cut my face open with something like that." Maurizio tilts his head to the side and slightly raises his brows while smiling at my response.

"That is very good to know, Mr.Lee. We generally sew four on each sleeve. Though we usually leaves the first unbuttoned. Would you wish for any changes to that?" Three on the wrist all the time so....

"Could you make the space between wider, about two fingers' width?" I ask while thinking about the length of my palm.

"Certainly. Anything else?" Maurizio quickly added something to his note with a pen out of nowhere.

"That'll be all." I unclip the two blades returning it to a normal button again.

"Wonderful. Next...." The tailor raises his drink and takes a longer sip while resuming focus on his scriptures. "I'm guessing you would prefer no associations with a tie so let's skip that, yeah?" I let out a laugh and give him an apologetic smile. Too goddamn right.

Not only because getting in a fight with a gallow rope around your neck is fucking idiotic. On top of that, I would look too much like the Qins.

"Well, then let's move on...." The Italian places his half-full glass on the table and returns to the cabinets. "Since we previously agreed on black in color." He pushes the ivory white one and navy blue stripes in display at the center aside to reveal an ordinary black suit.

"As you can see, this is one of the most common models. A notch lapel with a three button suit which means the V shape is not as deep as the one in our blueprint." He tip toes to retrieve the suit from display cabinets and spread it on the changing table, on top of the buttons.

"But besides that, I suppose the rest would be very similar. You could use it as a mirror to try out your favored types of lapel." Maurizio hurries back to the cabinet drawers to bring back hand full of separated ones from a lower cabinet.

He carefully places them one by one, next to the blazer with the same enthusiasm as a kid dumping all his toys on the floor to show his friend. I take another sip to empty one-third of the glass while wondering if I'm not drunk enough to find it all fascinating or sophisticated.

"Since the suit color absorbs most of the details. It all comes down to your personal choice, whether you want it to be sleek or old fashioned.... And without a tie means the attention will be transcended to the lapel."

I take a moment to consider. Club 57 ain't a place for me in any aspect, I couldn't give a shit about the 'top one percent of the one percent' as Dojo put it. Not to mention the japs are still on me. No need to cut myself in a shark tank.

But a stubborn, almost childish voice in my head kept provoking me to not fall short among those fuckers in the future meeting. I take another sip and let toffee, oak, and smoke do the talking.

"I would hope it to be convergent but assured. If that's possible." Maurizio takes a long look at me and my shoulder with his brows knitted before he answers.

"Sí.....I might have some ideas. In view of your narrow shoulder, slim frame on top of, pardon me, below average height." Before I could decide whether to view it as a statement or a critique. He's already three steps back at opening cabinet drawers.

"I would suggest you not to make yourself look bigger or taller, but focused on presenting yourself." After he gathered another batch of lapels, Maurizio returns and hangs them on the edge of the table by pushing the previous ones aside. Turing a page in his notebook, he starts sketching a blazer with all the important details.

"Normally, I would always recommend a notch lapel to some of the more wavering customers. But with tie out of discussion and the..... nature of the affair your planning. A normal notch might seem lacking in characteristic." As his explanation comes to a stop, so did his pen. A suit with an extravagant design occupied half the page.

"A common belief is that peak lapel only associates with formality. But in reality, with the right man and the right cloth, it could be anything you want." The tailor's slim finger picked the second piece of fabric in a triangle shape with an inward notch creating two points on top. He then places it on top of the original notch lapel on the black suit.

"A wide notch is to make others focused on your center chest which is where your tie resides. A peak lapel is, as the shape indicates, to focus on your face. But due to your build is noticeably... lean." With his teeth slightly gritting each other high lighting the jaw line under his ears, Maurizio says carefully.

Funny that he tread more carefully discussing body types than heights. I shrug and finish the rest of the glass, a sickening sweet lingers by my teeth.

"Hence the two-size bigger bomber jacket, mate." The tailor suddenly shoots me a confused look.

"Two sizes?"

"Aye?"

"...... Sir could you take the jacket off?" As clueless as I am, I complied. Now with the weight on my shoulder lifted and the cold iron on my waist stashed in a violin case, I'd feel more comfortable being naked compared to now.

".......cazzo." Maurizio's pupils expanded before their eyelids shut down as he starts massaging them. "Well, good news for you Mr. Lee. is that you have certainly grown into the jacket. Few people can make an outfit a part of the man. Bad news for me, is I supposed my initial plan wouldn't work."

He moves the fingers on his eyes up to his forehead before he reaches for his drink. Placing the empty sniffer next to the liquor but doesn't refill it, he stands motionless with both palms on the table, eyes fixed on the black suit like a statue for the next half a minute before he suddenly snaps his finger and readjusts his shirt sleeves higher, revealing a potion of a tattoo on his left upper arm close to his wrist. A graphic image of a woman with her eyes closed and an enlightened satisfaction by her smirk, her head tilts upward towards something.

Maurizio moves the peak lapel to the right by a couple of centimeters and folds the extra part into the lining, then irons the line repeatedly with his palm till he's satisfied with the sample.

"Mr. Lee, what you're seeing here is close to blasphemy. Peak lapel can be pieced as normal or widened but never skinny, though considering all the factors and your structure. This just might suit you." The tailor fetches another one and folds the extra few centimeters to the lining as well before he opens one of the drawers under this table and pulls out a measuring tape amongst scissors, pins, seam ripper, and such. I watch silently as I put my jacket back on.

"You see, it's now close to 6.4 cm. Any peak lapel should be at least 7.6 cm in width. But your case needs some creativity. Of course, these are my personal opinions. Your preference matters the most." He refills his glass and turns around leaning against the table with the drink in hand as if taking a break. I nod silently and take a step closer.

As un fucking educated as I am in this field. I can still get where his ideas are coming from. The piece of fabric seems to make the whole suit..... thinner, but also gives out a petty vibe. It feels like someone wearing it got one too many secrets on his back.... And by reasons forbidden by god, the image of Nan and his annoying grin crosses my mind, how he hides everything under it.....

I draw my attention to the pile of lapels he brought earlier and start searching for the most exaggerated one.

To hide something is to bluff it. And make it big, unmissable, luxuriance, increase its existence till everyone sees it as it is.

"The size of it is alright. But I was thinking, what about......." I turn around and survey the room but my attention was drawn back to his tattoo again by its complicated images hugging each other. Then came another idea. "What about embroideries?" I ask with a smile by my lips.

The Italian was frozen by my question for a second before he hesitantly asks with his head tilted forward like he was making sure he hears me right. "On the lapel?"

"Yeah." He stops again, eyes looking a bit hollow as he stares at the wall in front of him before he closes them shut and starts massaging them again.

"I could try, I think I have one or two models in here…Sir, how this suit will be presented in the end is for you to decide. But Mr. Lee, I have to warn you this might come out as outlandish, or self-contradicting."

Who is it?" In the plainest tone possible. He asks. "The epitome of contradiction…..

"Should be quite fitting for me than.” I let out a chuckle and take a sip of the whiskey.