From Naruto onwards, I've become a dreamer.

Chapter 378 Naples
Naples is an ancient city in southern Italy with a long history.

Whenever the bright morning sun or the golden sunset shines on the coast of Santa Lucia, the clear waves crash against the rocks, and the gentle sea breeze carries a romantic and free atmosphere. Wandering through the sacred Church of Our Lady and the crisscrossing alleys, you can see colorful clothes hanging on the clotheslines.

The charming Italian folk songs, flute music, laughter, and even the noise of street vendors combine to create the unique atmosphere of this city.

Standing majestically in the southeast of the city, Mount Vesuvius was the culprit that destroyed Pompeii in 79 AD. However, if you look across the Bay of Naples, you can see the grandeur of this ancient volcano and feel the rich history of the ancient city.

Women dressed in tight clothes and high heels walked through the streets and alleys, while vendors clamored to sell counterfeit bags.

Every now and then you can see electric bikes carrying young girls speeding through the narrow alleys, leaving behind cheerful laughter like silver bells.

The air is filled with the rich aroma of coffee. It has been said that coffee flows in the blood of Italians. While that may be an exaggeration, it does reflect the Italians' love for coffee to some extent. Of course, it should be paired with a fresh clam chowder or a freshly baked pizza.

Ripe tomatoes, buffalo mozzarella, and simple basil leaves are all you need to cook a delicious pizza.

Of course, if you travel to Naples, you also need to be careful of local thieves, since Naples is most famous for the Mafia, in addition to its scenery and cultural history.

Bruno was a petty hoodlum who grew up in this neighborhood. Thanks to the simple and honest local customs, he honed his skills to an extraordinary level.

Basically, you could say that no one in this neighborhood is better at stealing than him; he can steal a wallet from someone's inside pocket without them noticing.

Today, as Bruno was leaning against the street, looking for a target, he suddenly saw a tall man wearing a hat and a long trench coat that completely covered his face, despite the hot weather. The man was carrying a black leather bag and walking quickly with his head down.

Bruno had seen many people like this, acting suspiciously; they were either Mafia members from out of town or people seeking refuge in Naples.

Bruno lowered his head, pretending to be a passerby, and quietly followed them.

When there were many people around, he deliberately pretended to walk past them, accidentally bumping into the man. He then quickly bent down, looking very apologetic: "I'm sorry, I didn't see you."

After saying that, without waiting for the man's response, he quickly squeezed into the crowd and disappeared into the streets and alleys.

Bruno slipped into a small alley, a smug smile playing on his lips, and weighed the thing he had just acquired: "Heh, got it. How easy."

Just moments before, in the instant they brushed past each other, he used the razor blade hidden between his fingers to slit open the black leather bag and silently made off with its contents.

Only after confirming that he had completely shaken off the thief did Bruno have time to observe what he had just stolen.

Using his sense of touch, he took the largest item inside, but when he looked down, he couldn't help but frown: "What is this thing?"

The item he had just stolen was wrapped in expensive silk cloth and felt like a book to the touch.

But a book isn't exactly a valuable thing.

"What bad luck! I thought there was something valuable inside." Bruno was disappointed, but since he had already gotten the item, he couldn't very well return it. So he lifted a corner of the silk cloth and said, "Let me see what kind of book it is. You're treating it like a treasure; maybe you can even sell it for some money."

After the silk cloth covering the book was lifted, the black cover inside was revealed.

The book feels very thin, is an octavo size, and doesn't look like some kind of ancient book. Instead, it looks like a modern print. The only thing worth noting is the three distorted symbols on it.

Although the symbols were obscured by the silk cloth and not fully visible, Bruno felt inexplicably dazed, as if he were hearing an ambiguous song in his ear.

A certain inner impulse compelled him to subconsciously lift the silk cloth and see the complete 'symbol'.

Just then, a large hand suddenly reached out and covered the thin black book, blocking Bruno's next move.

Bruno, abruptly interrupted, snapped out of his daze. The song that had been playing in his head vanished, and this bizarre experience caused large beads of sweat to appear on his forehead.

"Fortunately, we arrived in time. If we had been any slower, it would have been too late."

Suddenly, a voice drifted over. Bruno snapped out of his daze and looked up at the owner of the hand—it was none other than the man who had just stolen the book.

Bruno hadn't looked closely when they passed each other, but now, observing him up close, he was immediately captivated by the man. He had golden hair that cascaded down to his shoulders, like a proud lion, framing a face like a Greek sculpture. His icy blue eyes were devoid of warmth, silently watching him.

"What was that just now?!" Bruno asked, his lips pale and his voice trembling, still in shock.

The man frowned, not intending to answer his question. He took the black book away and said calmly, "If you don't want trouble, don't say you've seen me, understand?"

After saying this, the man rewrapped the silk cloth, put it in the inner pocket of his trench coat, and, leaning against the wall, walked heavily outside.

"Hey, you can't go far like this." Bruno had a keen eye and immediately realized that the man was seriously injured.

The man stopped, paused for half a second, and then said, "It's none of your business."

But after taking only two steps, seemingly due to worsening internal injuries, the man suddenly vomited a mouthful of blood, lost his balance, and collapsed to the ground.

"Hey, are you alright?" Bruno exclaimed in surprise and rushed over.

"It's nothing." The man's voice was weak as he struggled to sit up, his icy blue eyes fixed ahead. "I can't stay here. I have to go."

Before he could finish speaking, the man collapsed and lost consciousness due to the severity of his injuries.

When Caesar opened his eyes again, he found himself lying in a bed.

He was wrapped in bandages, and the gunshot and knife wounds on his chest, which were almost festering, appeared to have been treated.

Caesar sprang to his feet and instinctively reached for his chest. When he found the book wrapped in silk cloth still there, he finally relaxed and let out a slow breath.

Only then did he have time to look around. It was a simple house with hardly any furniture except for a wooden bed covered with a sheet.

Moreover, the area is quite small, and it's located next to the street, so you can hear vendors hawking their wares and the noise of passing residents.

Through the opening that could be considered a window, you could see colorful clothes hanging on a rope outside, fluttering in the breeze like brightly colored flags.

"You're awake?" Bruno, carrying a basket of bread, pushed open the door and entered. Seeing Caesar sitting on the bed, he explained, "Don't misunderstand. You saved me, so of course I wouldn't just watch you die there. I didn't touch that book, don't worry."

Caesar remained silent for a long time before finally speaking in a hoarse voice, "Thank you."

“It’s alright, you’re welcome.” Bruno handed over the bread and said, “By the way, my name is Bruno Frigo, what’s yours?”

There was another moment of silence.

"Fine, if you don't want to talk about it, then don't."

Bruno pursed his lips and turned to make coffee.

"Caesar."

At this moment, Caesar sat on the bed, holding a loaf of bread, and said with a somewhat blank look in his eyes, "My name is Caesar."

"Wow, it shares the same name as Julius Caesar, that's amazing."

Bruno exclaimed in genuine admiration, then turned to look at him and asked, "And your full name? What's your last name?"

However, Caesar's eyes were filled with melancholy, as if he were filled with unspeakable sorrow, and he said softly, "No, I have no surname, you can just call me Caesar."

(End of this chapter)