The Mafia Empire

As Mason marveled at Julian's eerie control over the situation, he noticed Julian standing up beside him and quickly followed suit.

"Well, I look forward to your good news, Chief Pronto." Julian, just as he had when exiting the car, smiled warmly and extended his hand. Pronto glared at him with a hint of resentment, then reluctantly reached out and gave him a half-hearted handshake.

"On the first of next month, have your brother report to…" Pronto paused, and Julian politely filled in, "East City Substation!"

"Yes, the damn East City Substation. I'll arrange everything. Now I have things to attend to, so… I won't be seeing you out."

Julian didn't take offense at Pronto's coldness. After all, he had just threatened the man's family; how could he expect a friendly farewell? He nodded with a smile and left Pronto's office with Mason.

Outside, Mason quietly asked, "Julian, I don't quite understand. Shouldn't you be friends with the chief? Why would you threaten him?" This was something Mason genuinely didn't understand. "And couldn't this cause other problems?"

As they walked toward the police station's exit, Julian explained in a low voice, "Friends? Don't kid yourself. Have you ever heard of paying a friend ten thousand dollars just to get them to do something for you—let alone twenty thousand? He's not my friend…" Julian's brow furrowed slightly as a man reeking of alcohol and dressed sloppily, clearly drunk and unsteady on his feet, suddenly bumped into him.

Julian steadied him and muttered, "Watch out," to which the man replied, "Thanks."

Just a minor incident.

The encounter broke Julian's train of thought, and they quickened their pace back to the car. Once inside, Julian continued, "Even if I don't fall out with him now, he'd eventually find a way to turn against me. There are many things you don't know, Mason. My connection with Pronto was based on mutual exploitation from the start. It's just that I've had more use for him, while he's had little need for me. He might not show it, but he likely has some grievances against me.

"Besides, Dave's affair with Mrs. Vivian has humiliated the mayor. He's bound to eliminate anything that brings him shame. While Fire Skull might not be effective on its own, combined with the police, it's a sure bet. Rather than wait to hand over the advantage, I may as well secure the benefits now. That way, when a showdown does happen, I won't be at a complete disadvantage."

Mason's mind struggled to keep up with the complex logic at play, bewildered by how entangled everything had become. He chuckled nervously and asked, "But what if he goes back on his word? Kicks me out of the substation—wouldn't the twenty thousand go to waste?"

After closing the car door, Julian shook his head. "You're wrong. There's nothing to worry about. You're in that position because of me, and as long as I'm alive, Pronto won't lay a finger on you. He's a shrewd one."

Just as Julian said, Pronto was indeed cunning. If he acted against Mason while Julian was still alive, not only would it provoke fierce retaliation, but he would also lose his last buffer.

So, he would certainly wait, taking action only when the dust settled, dealing with Mason once Julian was gone. If that day came, he could easily assign some trumped-up charge and make Mason's life miserable for years.

At present, he endured Julian's threats not only because he had no idea what backup plans the young lunatic might have but also because he was waiting and investigating.

A person doesn't become powerful out of nowhere—there had to be some change that enabled Julian's rise. Once Pronto fully understood Julian's background and confirmed there was nothing troublesome or that Julian wasn't some pawn of a powerful figure, he would make his move.

Pronto had eliminated more than one wealthy person who had threatened him; those who crossed him were never forgotten

"What's this?"

Julian entered the office, picking up a beautifully packaged bottle of strong liquor from the table and giving it a shake. Dave stifled a laugh, looking out at the street through the window.

Julian called him a "little rascal" with a chuckle, then twisted off the cap, pouring half a small one-inch glass. He took a sniff—the scent was slightly sweet—and then a small sip. There was a hint of icy coolness mixed with the familiar sweet-sour taste; it was Snow Sprite.

"Did this come from the farm's latest batch?" he asked, settling into his desk chair and finishing the drink in one gulp. "Not bad. It's even better than Snow Sprite, and the packaging is pretty attractive. Which smart kid came up with this?"

Talent is something that's never fully sufficient to meet market demand. If someone had the skill to improve the flavor and packaging of Snow Sprite, leaving them in a basic role would be disrespectful to their talent and irresponsible for the business.

Julian decided to promote this person to the head of the trade company's beverage division, granting them enough power and funding to continue enhancing the product.

Constant innovation is the lifeblood of a product, as people are naturally drawn to new things.

But what Dave said next wiped the smile off Julian's face.

"This isn't our product!" Then he added, "And it's actively encroaching on our market!" He finished with the clincher: "Most importantly, I've found that they're using raw materials sourced from our products."

Julian had asked everyone to use the term "products" instead of "bootleg liquor."

Over the past few days, a new bootleg drink called "First Love" had been spreading through Ternell, more appealing to younger customers and packaged in bright, colorful designs that conveyed higher quality and sophistication.

With its familiar taste, many assumed it was Julian's latest product aimed at competing with Ernst and Carrell. Many bars had sent people to contact Dave, hoping to buy First Love directly in bulk and stop stocking Snow Elf.