The Mafia Empire

It was that trait that had once landed him in jail for helping someone. And it was that same quality that had moved a tycoon to pay for his release.

He was trusted, he had a good heart—and because of that, he wasn't cut out to be a villain or commit evil deeds.

Sure, he had killed for others, and he had rushed into dangerous situations before, but he had never been able to fully adapt to the violent world he was now part of. Instead of struggling painfully in this environment, it was better for him to return to a life where he could continue being that rough edged good man, rather than trying to be something he wasn't.

Graf wanted to argue, to say that he had been prepared for this all along, but no matter how hard he tried, the words wouldn't come out.

He couldn't say it, because deep down, even if he thought he was ready, it was only his belief—not the truth.

"Do you mean…" Graf's voice was raspy as it scraped its way out of his throat, filled with a rough texture of emotion, "Do you mean I had to abandon my family to be truly prepared?"

At that moment, Julian stepped in, "You've got it wrong, Graf." He lit a cigarette and gestured for Dave to lower the gun. Dave complied, stepping aside and leaning against the wall. Julian flicked his lighter a few times before the flame caught, igniting the cigarette. After taking a deep drag and exhaling slowly, he continued, "You didn't abandon any family.

From the day we all joined the association, we became family. Every one of us."

Those words sent a shiver through Dave, and his gaze toward Graf grew more conflicted. Julian was right—the brothers and sisters in the association were all family. But in Graf's eyes, his family was his mother and brother, not those six dead boys lying on the ground, who couldn't even take another breath.

Graf was momentarily stunned. "That's not what I meant, I—"

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Julian suddenly stood up. Even though he was shorter than Graf, in that moment, to Dave, it felt as if Julian towered over him—so tall that he had to look up to see him.

Whatever Graf had been about to say died in his throat. His lips moved, but no sound came out.

With the cigarette still in his mouth, Julian walked around the desk and stood in front of Graf. His expression softened, and he smiled slightly. Then, to Graf's surprise, he opened his arms and embraced him tightly, gently patting his back. "It's time to go home. Go live the life you've always wanted. Even if you leave today, we'll still be your friends, your brothers.

"Once family, always family."

Suddenly, Graf lowered his head, eyes closed tight. His eyes burned, and for some reason, he felt an overwhelming urge to cry. The last time he had felt this way was when his pet cat had been kicked to death by a passing horse. He didn't think of himself as a weak person, but in this moment, he felt a vulnerability that didn't seem right for him.

He shook his shoulders, breaking free from Julian's embrace, then turned and walked out the door.

As Julian watched the empty doorway, he shook his head and returned to the window.

Today, they had said goodbye to six brothers…and Graf. Who would they say goodbye to tomorrow?

Through the glass, Julian watched Graf wiping his face as he marched away into the distance, a slight smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

This path is too dangerous for a fool like you. Stay out of the way.

When Eirlys entered the office, his clothes had a few patches of red seeping through. He had run all the way back, leaving his bicycle with his companions so they could use it to return quickly in case of any emergencies. He was slightly out of breath, his face pale, and as he pushed open the door, he felt the heavy atmosphere in the room.

But he quickly shifted his focus to the message he had to deliver.

"Wood… went to see Gador!"

That single sentence was enough to make Dave, who had been staring at the floor with an unlit cigarette in his mouth, look up. It also made Julian, who had been gazing out the window at the pedestrians and cars, turn around.

Julian wasn't as familiar with Ternell city as the other members of the association. His knowledge of the city was still superficial. But even so, he had heard the name Gador and knew some of his reputation.

When people start praising a gang leader, it means that leader and his gang are about to undergo a transformation in terms of status and identity.

Either they rise or they fall.

Gador clearly belonged to the former category. Most of his businesses were now legitimate, though some of them likely still violated imperial or religious law. However, for him, these violations were minor. Once he fully legitimized his operations, he would cross a threshold that every gang leader in Ternell dreamt of crossing—joining the upper class.

Everyone aspired to be part of the upper class, but what exactly did the upper class offer?

Nothing, really.

Even in the upper class, people still had to eat, drink, and earn money. They were still restrained by rules. Yet, everyone wanted to be part of it because it represented a shift in identity, in the people you associated with, and in the things you were exposed to. If you couldn't cross that line, you would forever remain part of the lower class, constantly exploited and oppressed.

The upper class was simply a platform, a ladder to even higher levels. Climbing this ladder often required shedding some burdens, but almost everyone was willing to do so for the chance to ascend.

Gador was one such figure who had made a name for himself in Ternell city. Stories of his kindness, ruthlessness, integrity, and hypocrisy were widespread.