The Mafia Empire

In simple terms, it's like drawing a map.

Two people are giv a map, and the facilitator tells them to draw circles. The wealth within the circle belongs to them. But, correspondingly, the smaller the circle, the smaller the risk; the larger the circle, the greater the risk.

People with small visions might draw a small circle a a wealthy area, while those with larger visions would draw many circles, connecting them, or ev just draw one big circle.

Graf was thinking about protecting his small piece of land in Ternell, while Julian was already thinking about conquering the Empire State Building. That was the differce!

Soon, Dave came in. The young man was still as handsome as ever, which left Julian a bit speechless. His wool flat cap was pulled low, a style young people seemed to love. He wore a checkered wool sweater, revealing a pure shirt collar, paired with fitted trousers and leather shoes—a far cry from the poor kid he used to be.

Standing in front of Julian, Dave looked a bit nervous, ev though he was older than Julian.

"I've heard about your past, and I regret what you've be through," Julian said, tossing a cigarette to Dave, who hurriedly caught it with both hands. Before Dave could light it, Julian pulled out a bronze lighter from his pocket. Lighters had only rectly gained popularity, and they were expsive, though very aesthetically pleasing.

Many people were interested in these small, sophisticated items that symbolized status, which led to a surge in lighter sales. Anyone with some money would buy one to keep in their pocket.

Of course, as the market expanded, more hot money flowed into the industry, leading to a flood of cheap, low quality brands. To date, there had already be more than a doz incidts of burn injuries caused by kerose leakage. As a result, people were increasingly demanding higher quality brands.

Well known companies were doing better and raising their prices, while businesses that hadn't built a brand were facing bankruptcy.

Julian's lighter was a product of "Bondy," the largest lighter manufacturing company in the Empire, with a price tag of 38 dollars.

Dave stared at the flame, almost forgetting that he needed to lean in to light the cigarette in his mouth. He recognized the lighter, but it wasn't its price that had him in a daze—it was Julian's gesture.

In gangs, hierarchy and rank were strictly forced, and the more powerful the gang, the clearer these lines were. There was never a practice of superiors lighting cigarettes for their subordinates, except in one special circumstance.

Julian was promoting him, giving him a raise in rank.

Dave, trembling with excitemt, moved closer, cupping his hands a the flame to light his cigarette. He quickly stepped back, his facial muscles twitching as he tried to figure out how to react.

It was all too sudd—especially after finding out how much money Julian had made, and now the possibility of a promotion. It was overwhelming.

Julian put the lighter back in his pocket and, looking at Dave's failed attempt to calm himself, smiled. "We are a collective, we are brothers—now and in the future. I don't believe in establishing strict hierarchies as the best managemt method, but until we find a better one, this is what we have to do, ev if it's not my preferred way."

"From today, you are the group leader!"

"From now on, every month, you'll receive 0.% of the profits from the illegal liquor trade, while the rest of the brothers and sisters will share % of the profit. Your task is to supervise the quality of our fruit wine and prevt any mistakes. Handle them."

"Now, go tell everyone the good news!"

Julian waved his hand dismissively. Dave, still trembling with excitemt and respect, stepped back a few paces, turned, and closed the door behind him. Just as the door clicked shut, he saw Julian standing by the window, bathed in sunlight streaming in from outside. The sce was like something out of scripture, filled with a sse of sanctity.

As the door closed firmly, Dave's excitemt oddly faded in the last second or two, replaced by a sse of calm, ev reverce. He slowly turned and, with a gtle smile on his face, walked into another large room. A small group of members had gathered there. Dave, now exuding authority, tered, and the room's atmosphere instantly quieted.

He glanced at each face before speaking with a smile, "I have two announcemts to make."

"First, I'm now the group leader."

A few of the younger members whistled and cheered. Dave had a good reputation among the younger crowd. First, he had siority—not only had he be in the game for years, but he had also done time in prison and had connections with several gangs in Ternell. In the eyes of these young people, respect for someone stemmed from two things:

They could fight, or they had money.

Hearing that Dave had be promoted to group leader was a source of couragemt for this group. In gang culture, a group leader or captain wasn't exactly what the title suggested; it didn't necessarily mean managing a specific number of people or overseeing specific tasks.

The title was more like a placeholder for someone responsible for "a task." For example, if Julian needed something done, he would appoint a group leader, who would th gather people based on the task's requiremts.

If the job succeeded, there would be rewards, if it failed, the blame would fall on the group leader. Naturally, group leaders did have higher status and income than regular members, but with higher responsibility came higher stakes.

Dave's promotion to group leader meant that the association was no longer just a social club, and this excited the younger members. They felt that if they contributed to the association, they, too, could become group leaders in the future.

Dave raised his hand to acknowledge the group's cheers with a smile. "The second thing is, starting today, the farm will take out % of its income each month and share it among all of you!"

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