The Mafia Empire

Wood dodged the question and instead brought up another topic. "Do you know how we deal with people like you?" Without waiting for Gador to respond, Wood continued, "We'd pin a crime on you, throw you into the regional jail, and some insignificant thug you once humiliated would stab you in the back when you weren't looking.

Over the next while, you'd die from some 'accident,' and you'd be marked as a casualty of gang warfare. Then, a new leader would rise, and the cycle of retaliation would continue."

"See? Problem solved, and we've cleared out another destabilizing factor in the city—a win-win."

Just as Gador was on the verge of an outburst, Wood raised a hand to calm him down. "To resolve this problem… well, it's both simple and not. First, you need to remove yourself from the situation, just like Pronto did, by shifting the responsibility onto someone else."

Wood's suggestion left Gador puzzled. Seeing the confusion in Gador's eyes, Wood gave a wry smile and shook his head. "I've had time to cool off these past few days. I was a fool back then. Robin had already told me the truth, but I ignored it and made a terrible mistake. Don't think I've gone mad—I haven't!"

At this point, Wood had gradually woken up from the pain and impulsiveness. Just a few days ago, he was consumed with thoughts of revenge, dreaming of inflicting a hundredfold suffering on that kid, Julian.

But as he calmed down, he realized that all his pain stemmed from his own actions—his rigid, impulsive decisions had led to these consequences.

If he had been willing to sit down and talk with Julian, if he had followed Robin's advice to remain calm in the face of his close friend's death, perhaps none of this would have happened. But he had been too impulsive.

His years of surviving in high society had made him feel like his conflict with Julian was a personal insult, and all he wanted was to quickly erase that humiliation, neglecting so many crucial details.

In many ways, it was his fault.

He continued, "First, we need to shift the responsibility, without question. At the same time, you need to demonstrate a sense of 'responsibility' to the big players, showing them that even if it wasn't your fault, you had the courage to take it on. That will win you some favor, even if that favor isn't worth much."

But Gador wasn't listening. Frowning, he asked, "What should I do?"

Wood pressed his lips together. "Plant evidence, frame someone else, and throw the blame on Julian."

"You're just using this to get revenge on him, aren't you?" Gador was visibly displeased. He thought Wood hadn't truly come to his senses, trying to exploit this situation for his personal vendetta against Julian. How could Wood claim he was calm?

Wood smiled reassuringly at Gador. "This is exactly what you should do…"

...

"Taken by Julian's men?" Pronto rolled his eyes. "Do I look like an idiot?" Gador remained silent, which only deepened Pronto's displeasure toward him. He had gone to great lengths to shift the responsibility to Gador, essentially asking him to take the fall. But now Gador was trying to push the blame onto Julian. Whether Julian could bear that burden or not wasn't the issue.

The problem was that if the blame kept getting passed around, it wouldn't be Gador or Julian who looked the worst—it would be Pronto.

It was obvious. When the higher-ups handed down responsibility, it wasn't to make Pronto's life difficult. Madam Vivian's intention had been clear. She and Pronto were from different worlds, and she had no need to make things hard for a local police chief to assert her status. She simply entrusted the task to the most suitable person, and that was it—no hidden agenda.

When Pronto passed the responsibility to Gador, Madam Vivian would understand. After all, no one expected a police chief to personally comb the streets looking for someone. She had given the job to the right person, and that person, like her, passed it on to someone else. This is where the chain of responsibility should have ended. It couldn't be passed along any further.

But Gador trying to pin the blame on Julian signaled something else—that everyone was shirking responsibility. This clearly amounted to brushing off Madam Vivian's request.

Failing to complete the task because of incompetence was one thing; you couldn't blame a rooster for not laying eggs. But shirking responsibility was a different matter. It showed disrespect, disregard, and possibly resentment—toward whom?

Madam Vivian might think that Pronto, the local police chief, was harboring some resentment toward her, hence his carelessness and lack of respect in handling the matter.

And if Madam Vivian felt that way, what would she do?

She would vent her frustration on Pronto. Either she'd strip him of his badge or give him a harsh reprimand. Neither outcome was something Pronto wanted.

So, Gador had stepped right onto a landmine.

After a moment of silence, Pronto's eyes fell on the box of cigarettes on his desk. Annoyed, he opened it, intending to light one, only to find that a few sticks were missing. His look of confusion quickly turned to frustration as he slammed the box shut. He wasn't about to lock it away in front of Gador, but he swore to himself that he'd give Shaun a lesson—a serious one.

There was no doubt. The only person bold enough to steal something from his office was Shaun.

Already in a bad mood, and now feeling disrespected by Shaun, Pronto's temper flared. He grabbed a stack of files from his desk and threw them at Gador. Gador didn't dare dodge, taking the hit as the files scattered across the floor. Pronto stood up, walked a few steps behind his desk, and pointed a finger at Gador's face. "Stupid. Completely idiotic.

I don't know which fool gave you this idea, but thinking you can avoid danger with a move like this is the height of stupidity." thank-you-for-using-NovelFire