The Mafia Empire

When Gador finally woke Wood, his body tensed, and his face turned as white as paper. The intense pain made him want to slam his head into the floor to knock himself out. After a few moments, his clenched jaw loosened slightly, though not because the pain had lessened, but because he had become somewhat accustomed to it.

"How did you end up like this?" Gador leaned against the wall, playing with the latest windproof lighter from Aurordo, a smirk on his face as if enjoying the spectacle.

Wood sat up, enduring the sharp pain in his body. Yet the physical pain was nothing compared to the torment in his mind. His eyebrows shot up, and through gritted teeth, he spat, "It's all that bastard Julian's doing. I underestimated him. Maybe I was his target all along…." He gasped as the movement strained his stitches, causing fresh blood to seep from the wound and bringing a new wave of pain.

After a few deep breaths, he steadied himself and continued, "I want that bastard dead, right in front of me. I want him killed in the most brutal way possible. I don't care about the details—name your price!" Wood wisely didn't try to leverage their friendship to get Gador to help him. He understood that the more ambitious someone was, the more they separated business from personal matters.

This wasn't personal, so he didn't use that excuse. Instead, he let money do the talking—the most effective approach.

Gador chuckled and asked, "How much do you think Julian is worth?"

Wood had posed a difficult question to Gador, and now Gador returned the favor.

This was a question with no easy answer. If Wood offered too little, Gador might refuse to help. And even if Wood raised the offer, it wouldn't guarantee Gador's assistance, as the issue was one of principle. If Gador helped Wood purely for the money, people would assume it was because of their relationship, not the cash.

But if Gador rejected the first offer and later accepted after a price increase, people would think he only cared about money, willing to compromise his principles for the right price.

Wood's body tensed for a moment, then he wiped the sweat from his forehead and said in a low voice, "One no not one… two hundred thousand!"

Two hundred thousand wasn't all of Wood's savings. Over the years, he had earned several hundred thousand. Some of it had been squandered, and a portion had gone to grease palms. His savings in the Imperial Central Bank amounted to just over 1.1 million.

Giving up nearly twenty percent of his wealth in one go to end Julian did sting, but he knew he had to do it. The failure today had already etched itself into the minds of certain people, who were likely sharpening their knives in the shadows, waiting to strike. He had to retaliate in the most ruthless way possible, forcing those plotting against him to think twice before daring to take him down.

Two hundred thousand would be enough to get Gador's full attention. What Wood needed now was time—to deal with Julian as quickly as possible. Only then would he have a chance to survive in this city. Otherwise, he might end up taking his wealth, his family, and himself straight to hell.

Gador nodded in satisfaction. "Given our friendship, helping you is the least I can do. You'll hear good news from me soon."

...

After a quick bandage job, Eirlys donned a high collared trench coat and a rounded felt hat, standing at a street corner in the Eastern District. Across the road stood a magnificent manor, its artistic landscaping exuding an air of high class sophistication, making it hard to believe this was the headquarters of a gang leader.

It seemed more fitting for a tycoon or some influential figure rather than someone operating in the grey and black zones of society.

The manor's gate had been smashed, and a few men were busy fixing a bloodied car with a damaged front end. Even in its battered state, the car was clearly a luxury model, worth thousands. Its presence alone was enough to show that those who rode in it could afford to treat precious resources as mere consumables.

It was similar to people who, despite financial constraints, splurge on expensive decorative items to prove their social standing. Whether useful or practical wasn't the point—what mattered was demonstrating that they could afford such luxuries.

People often unknowingly strive to elevate their social class, even if it means tightening their belts.

Young Eirlys wasn't yet troubled by these societal pressures. His mind wasn't "advanced" enough to grasp such complexities. His attention was focused entirely on the car—it belonged to Wood.

Ternell city had no traffic police, primarily due to its remote location and underdeveloped economy. Horse-drawn carriages outnumbered automobiles on the streets. Additionally, the city was so small, with a grid-patterned road system, that there was no real need to direct traffic. As a result, cars in Ternell city didn't have license plates.

It was said that Aurordo and other large cities had begun using license plates, but not here. There were two ways to tell who owned a car.

First, by looking at the headlights, and second, by the insignia.

Many "luxury" cars still used kerosene lamps to save costs—those old lamps with iron-wire frames, glass covers, and small flames inside. Wealthy car owners usually modified their vehicles upon purchase, fitting them with engine-driven gear systems that powered brighter lamps, a status symbol for every car owner.

For those willing to spend 200 coins on headlights, it wasn't a stretch to invest another 200 to customize the lampshades, giving them a unique design or personal significance.

The second distinguishing feature was the insignia.

With no license plates in Ternell, recognizing who was in a speeding car came down to identifying the headlights or insignia. Each person's insignia was designed with symbols that reflected their characteristics or held special meaning. The mayor's insignia was a pure silver angel with outstretched arms, while the councilman's was a golden compass.

Wood's insignia was easy to spot—an engraved gold stump.

And that very car stood across the road from Eirlys. Sweat formed on his forehead—partly from the physical exhaustion of walking while injured and partly from the nervousness of being so close to the manor of Gador.

Gador was a well known figure in Ternell city. Although he wasn't infamous for evil deeds, people feared him. If Wood had hired Gador...

Eirlys didn't dare finish the thought. He instructed his companion to keep watch at the gate and hurried back to Queen Street. He had to report everything to Julian as soon as possible.

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