Chapter 245
Chapter 245
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>Translator: Ryuma
>Chapter: 245
>Chapter Title: Do I Look Like a Philanthropist?
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An unusual summons order rang out across the entirety of the Second Black-White Slums.
- Respond to the summons immediately upon receiving this message.
Unlike his usual tone, the Godfather's decree carried a stern edge, forcing the bosses of each district to hurriedly leave their lairs, their faces all clouded with complicated thoughts.
‘Why is the Godfather doing this?’
‘……No way they found out I skimmed off the tribute, right?’
‘Tch, this doesn’t feel good.’
A few with clear consciences walked calmly, but the others donned thick iron plates under their clothes before heading out.
Of course, it was unlikely the plates would save their lives, but it was preparation for the worst.
Meanwhile, Aster sat in the large conference room where the meeting was to be held, speaking privately with the Godfather.
“Is it really just a matter of…… sending out the message like this?”
“Did you convey it in the strongest tone possible?”
“I believe it was sufficient.”
“Hmm.”
Aster nodded at the Godfather’s affirmation.
But contrary to his calm exterior, his mind buzzed with various thoughts.
‘What’s this old man’s angle?’
It had been merely thirty minutes since he’d barged into the Godfather’s hideout, leaving Evelin behind.
Honestly, he’d anticipated some level of armed conflict.
But what was this?
- The Knight has come at the Duke’s command……
- Ah, the renowned Knight. Please, come inside.
Before the words were even finished, an organization member flung the door wide open in welcome.
Caught off guard, Aster followed and suddenly found himself seated before the Godfather.
Moreover, the conversation flowed as smoothly as a ship with the wind at its back, leading to the current situation.
“You seem lost in thought.”
“Yeah, well.”
Aster answered awkwardly.
Amused by the sight, perhaps, the Godfather stroked his long white hair with a pot-lid-sized hand and chuckled softly.
His face looked kindly, like a friendly neighborhood elder, but the bulging muscles, scars on the back of his hand, and those etched across his face made it impossible to see him that way.
‘His level…… a bit above Fixer?’
To think a man on par with the chief of the Hamern Great Forest’s First Base Camp was holed up in the Second Black-White Slums—it was quite astonishing.
He must have been quite the force in his youth, and it wasn’t common for someone of that caliber to stick around here.
‘……Unless he’s a fugitive, that is.’
Well, that wasn’t the point anyway.
“Let’s cut the crap. What’s your game?”
“What game do you mean?”
“You’re being too cooperative, is all. I like it, but no matter how I think about it, it’s suspicious.”
Even for the Godfather, summoning the cartel bosses of the Second Black-White Slums wasn’t something to take lightly.
And to do it at the request of some unknown third party?
“Heh heh, do you think I’d grant your request just because of you? I did it for that boy Timur.”
“Why Timur?”
“Haven’t you heard? I’ve chosen him as the next Godfather. And your request…… appealed to me.”
He did recall hearing about Timur.
On the day of the auction, when grasping the Decullan Family’s reach, Timur had confessed it.
But his request appealed to him?
Tilting his head in puzzlement, the Godfather spoke just then.
“Didn’t you say it? That we need to pool the Second Black-White Slums’ strength to survive the food shortage ahead.”
“I did, but…….”
“I agree. Have you ever lived through the old wars? Decades ago—it was chaos. Not just the strays, but even cartel members starving to death.”
The Godfather recounted those times as if savoring memories, an utterly bizarre sight.
Close brothers-in-arms found dead in the morning from eating dirt, or a respected brother figure dropping dead from poisonous weeds in the plains.
He spun tales of horror like fond reminiscences—far from normal.
Noticing this, perhaps, the Godfather chuckled and wrapped it up.
“Well, it just reminded me of those days…… What does it matter? The future is what counts.”
“Hmm.”
Aster chose his words carefully for a moment.
After a pause.
“I’m sorry. I had preconceptions.”
He couldn’t empathize with the past pain, but he felt the sincerity.
How genuine the Godfather’s care for the Second Black-White Slums was. And that…… even sewers could bloom flowers.
Not gouging excessive profits on food was likely the best he could allow while looking after his men.
Thus, he offered a heartfelt apology.
“Do you really mean it?”
“……Yes, I do.”
An impish smile crept across the Godfather’s face.
“Then you’ll have to repay the debt.”
“…….”
What, a shakedown?
Just as respect for the elderly shifted from ‘reverence’ to ‘strike,’ the Godfather spoke soon after.
“Take good care of Timur.”
“……?”
“Timur has big dreams. But until now, he’s been too busy securing his own path to pursue them. So…….”
“Help him realize those dreams?”
“Exactly.”
The Godfather nodded.
But this was a request Aster couldn’t accept.
“Godfather, you’re mistaken about something. That kind of request goes to the Duke, not me—and even the Duke wouldn’t accept it.”
“Why not?”
“We’re in a trade partnership with Svetlana, not looking to be backers.”
Allies of convenience if goals aligned, sure—but not investing power.
Yet, for some reason.
“Heh heh, yes, that’s enough. Just like this is fine.”
The Godfather smiled, recalling Timur’s face from his recent visit.
- Godfather, is it alright if I build an orphanage in the Black-White Slums this time?
The words sought permission, but his expression showed resolve already formed.
Why come to him for this?
‘……He hasn’t forgotten the old days.’
The first thing he’d done after seizing power was dismantle the Second Black-White Slums’ orphanages.
In that era, strays who could’ve taken other paths were groomed into organization members—or worse, sold into trafficking, forced into drug production, or begging.
Afterward, ‘orphanages’ became taboo in the Second Black-White Slums, so Timur’s visit was likely for that reason.
Thus, the Godfather had silently granted permission.
‘……That’s plenty.’
The Duke and the Knight were the ones who’d set Timur in motion anyway.
“No, what’s enough…….”
“Heh heh, guests are arriving.”
The Godfather smoothly changed the subject.
Aster started to say more but groaned and shot the Godfather a glare.
The kindly elder facade vanished, replaced by the dignified aura befitting the Black-White Slums Godfather.
‘……He’s a master at cutting people off.’
Sitting so imposingly, what could he say?
Sigh.
Aster gave up and adjusted his posture.
Truth be told, it wasn’t just the Godfather who needed to put on a show for the incoming guests……
Bang!
“G-Godfather. You summoned us?”
Panting as if he’d run here, an unknown cartel boss.
The Godfather pulled a cigar from his pocket, lit it, and closed his eyes without a glance.
‘Go ahead, do as you please.’
Silent permission for whatever transpired next.
Of course, with the stage set, Aster wasn’t one to hesitate.
“Godfather……? Who’s this guy…….”
The unknown boss questioned Aster’s presence in confusion—
Thud!
“……Guh!”
Mana pressure filled the conference room.
‘Wha-what-what-what is this…….’
Unable to speak amid the sudden anomaly, a eerie voice echoed in the boss’s ear.
“Shut up.”
“…….”
At the dignified command, the cartel boss swallowed hard.
Then the voice rang again in his ear.
“And no introduction?”
The cartel boss felt like he was going mad.
‘No, fuck. You said shut up?’
Maybe it was this?
Speak and get your throat slit for noise; stay silent and get it for not responding.
‘Damn it, they really caught me skimming!’
How to escape this?
His mind raced.
Thus, the first guest stood speechless as second, third arrivals trickled in.
* * *
It didn’t take long for all the Second Black-White Slums bosses to gather.
About twenty sat in the conference room, eyeing each other warily.
All represented a district, including Svetlana’s Timur.
Timur sat closest to the head seat, quietly noting the hulking figure beside the Godfather.
‘What the…….’
A sudden summons at dawn.
And beside him sat a familiar face.
The Duke’s guard knight, Knight.
“Hey, what’s going on here?”
Timur didn’t answer the question from the neighboring boss who knew of the Duke and Knight’s collaboration with Svetlana.
No, he couldn’t.
He didn’t know what was happening either.
Why was Knight beside the Godfather? Where was the Duke? And why summon the bosses now?
A situation full of questions.
As curiosity peaked, Knight spoke.
“Are they all here?”
At his words, the Godfather lifted his eyelids from their closed state.
“All here. They represent districts, so they should suffice to spread your message.”
“Hmm, thank you.”
Knight bowed politely, and the Godfather nodded before closing his eyes again.
The cartel bosses’ eyes twitched at the sight.
Shocking enough that the Godfather yielded the floor officially, but a powerhouse like that showing respect to him was alien too.
Amid the hushed turmoil.
Knight’s voice resounded.
“War has broken out between Lortel and Decullan.”
“……!”
“……Ugh.”
The bolt-from-the-blue declaration drew stifled groans here and there.
Mostly older bosses who knew the fallout from noble houses’ wars.
Conversely, some smirked.
As Aster predicted, those hoarding food for profit.
Aster noted each smirker and continued calmly.
“Some knew, some just learned, it seems. The reason I borrowed the Godfather’s name to gather you is simple: to resolve the coming food shortage.”
Aster began expounding the economic principles Evelin had crammed into him. Or tried to.
Until one boss raised a hand.
“Asking a question.”
“So…… we band together to feed the Second Black-White Slums, is that it?”
“Hmm, sharp.”
Black-White Slums folk were stereotyped as dumb, but cartel bosses seemed to have brains that turned.
As Aster admired this.
“Fuck off.”
“……Pardon?”
“Didn’t hear? I said fuck off.”
The boss at the far end flipped Aster the bird.
Those who’d arrived earlier and tasted Aster’s pressure watched the brash young boss with twitching eyes.
“S-Stop…….”
“Hey, ease up…….”
A few who usually mingled with him tried intervening, but the young boss was undeterred.
“What’s to stop? You old fogeys are all cowards. Hey, that’s the Knight guy, right? No clue what crazy shit this is, but we digging dirt for a living? Think we’re scared ‘cause you’re behind the Godfather? Build your orphanages or whatever, don’t care—but do your charity among yourselves…… Gah!”
A sudden explosion rang out.
The rigid middle finger snapped, and the end-seat boss vomited blood right after.
“……!”
“……!”
As cartel bosses gaped at the abrupt scene.
Aster released his held-back pressure, scanning the room.
“Looks like you’re all misunderstanding. This ain’t for my benefit. Charity? If corpses pile up in the Second Black-White Slums, you think your districts stay pristine? Strays all croak, city crumbles—your fancy districts worth shit then?”
His clear voice pierced the suffocating silence.
Aster glared at the bosses, especially those who’d smirked at the war news, spitting each word.
“You fat-bellied fools lost your senses, huh? Do I look like a philanthropist? Listen up. This is me shaking you down right now. Just like you fleece strays and residents. Got it?”
And during the shortage, he’d feed the Second Black-White Slums’ strays and residents.
Aster wasn’t fixated solely on orphanages.
“Didn’t get it? Keep barking, I’ll crack your skulls. Got it…….”
Aster’s finger pointed precisely at the door.
“What’re you waiting for? Bring the ledgers.”
With those words, the oppressive aura vanished.
“Hah! Haah……!”
“Cough. Heuk!”
The cartel bosses gasped for air.
And.
“……I’ll head out first.”
Starting with Timur.
“Hmm…… Me too.”
“L-Let’s go together.”
One by one, the cartel bosses rose.
Change was stirring in the Second Black-White Slums.