An Interesting Plan
As soon as I stepped into the room, I wrinkled my nose at the thick, pungent scent of cigars and scanned my surroundings.
It was a familiar space.
It had to be.
I had already been to this suite on the top floor of the Lexington Hotel, a place decorated with garish gold and jewels, once before.
Of course, the situation was a bit different this time.
The threat of death still loomed over me, but unlike that time when I was dragged in by thugs, I had walked into the jaws of this hell on my own two feet.
And to survive this hell, I had to deal with the middle-aged man puffing away on a cigar while looking out the window.
Al Capone.
"Father, I've brought him."
At Rita's words, Al Capone, who had been staring out the window, turned his body to look at me.
The thin man in a high-end suit glaring at me from his side was likely Frank Nitti.
The fact that the second-in-command of the Chicago Outfit was here meant one thing.
The person I had to deal with right now wasn't just my future father-in-law, but the boss of the Chicago Outfit who ruled the nights of Chicago.
"You've come."
As soon as I heard his low voice as he set down his cigar, the terror from the last time I was dragged here gripped me.
Or perhaps it was the revolver resting on the desk where Al Capone sat.
But I couldn't show it.
"It is the second time we meet, Boss. It is an honor to see you."
I feigned as much composure as possible and greeted him with the utmost respect I could muster.
I was here to be tested.
If I showed even a hint of trembling fear, I would surely be eliminated from the test before it even began.
And the result of that would be becoming fish food in the Chicago River.
"Long time no see, Chinaman."
"His name is Lee Jun, Father. He's not Chinese, he's Korean."
"Rita, stay out of this. This is organization business."
Rita spoke up, bristling, but Al Capone didn't even pretend to listen, scanning me with cold eyes.
Whoosh—!
He took a deep drag of his cigar, exhaled, and continued.
"Right, I heard an interesting story from my daughter. You say you can remove wood alcohol from hooch?"
"Yes."
"That's something only skilled distillers can do. Where did you learn it?"
"I learned it over my father's shoulder. Using traditional Korean methods."
I pulled out the answer I had prepared for the expected question.
So far, it was going as planned.
However.
"Right, distillers are quite rare. And trustworthy ones are even rarer. But..."
The boss's gaze remained cold after hearing my answer.
Soon, he moved the cigar to his left hand, and his right hand reached for the desk.
There was only one reason for that.
Click!
"Give me one reason why I should trust you."
Capone, aiming the cocked revolver at me, looked at me with a bitter smile.
As expected, nothing is ever easy.
My only related knowledge was watching a few YouTube videos, but I already knew that Al Capone was a very suspicious man.
And I knew he had no reason to trust me—someone who wasn't even family yet—with anything.
"Father!"
Rita shouted in surprise when the boss aimed the pistol at me, but Al Capone only looked at Frank Nitti, who was standing to the side.
"Frank."
"Let's go, Miss."
At Al Capone's low call, Nitti nodded and dragged the resisting Rita out of the hotel room by her arm.
Now, the only ones left in this spacious suite were me and Al Capone, holding a pistol.
"Why no answer?"
Al Capone urged for an answer, flicking the muzzle of the pistol.
Damn it, I'm scared to death.
But if I back down here, it's truly over.
My opponent is a gangster, and the boss of a massive organization at that.
He must have seen plenty of people acting weak, so it wouldn't make any impression.
Therefore.
"You don't have to trust me."
What I could do was the exact opposite.
"...Are you asking me to kill you right now?"
"Of course not. I know the value of my own life, Boss."
I continued speaking to Al Capone, who was aiming the gun with a somewhat bewildered expression.
"Rather than trust, I just want to prove my usefulness."
"Usefulness? There are plenty of distillers in the organization already. If you can't give me trust, what use are you to me?"
Now it begins.
I had succeeded in piquing his interest, so all that remained was to explain my usefulness.
"First, there is something I would like to ask you, Boss."
And I already had a plan in mind.
"What is it?"
"The money you have, isn't it inconvenient to spend?"
"That shouldn't be any of your concern."
He says that, but in reality, it must be quite inconvenient.
Money earned from bootlegging is obviously criminal proceeds, and if he were to openly spend criminal proceeds that hadn't even been taxed, he would receive the hot interest and welcome of the IRS and the FBI.
Until now, he might have handled it through cash transactions that left no records, but even if he was listed in the Guinness Book of World Records as the person who earned the most income in a year, the inability to spend criminal proceeds legally was bound to be quite inconvenient.
"Separating wood alcohol from alcohol is something any decent distiller can do if they take the time. The difference is that I can do it more precisely and efficiently. However..."
"However?"
"Cleaning the boss's money is something distillers can't do."
"Are you trying to say my money is dirty?"
I thought his finger on the trigger moved a little just now—was I imagining it?
"Honestly, it's true that it has some dust on it."
But I answered calmly.
Right now, I actually needed to provoke him.
Didn't they say in cartoons that people die when they are forgotten?
In the cartoon, it was a metaphorical meaning, but if I couldn't make a deep enough impression here to not be forgotten, I would physically meet my death by lead bullets.
"It's in a state where you can't even put it in a bank because it will become a target for the Feds. You have to keep it in cash, and I imagine it's quite tiring to take it out and spend it whenever you need to. You never know when the IRS might come looking."
"Get to the point, just the point."
Al Capone was annoyed by my words, but I already knew.
The money source of the Chicago Outfit was ultimately the massive cash earned from the illegal bootlegging business.
It was the power that supported his kingdom, but at the same time, it was like a ticking time bomb that could go off at any moment.
In fact, wasn't the reason Al Capone ended up in prison triggered by the IRS accusing him of tax evasion?
And.
"I'm a laundryman's son; I know a thing or two about cleaning. And, as far as I know, wood alcohol is also a pretty decent detergent."
I had that method.
"I will launder the boss's money with the wood alcohol that would otherwise be thrown away."
Now, the time had come to prove my usefulness to him.
***
"Hmm."
Even after Lee Jun closed the office door and left, Al Capone remained deep in thought for a while, exhaling cigar smoke.
Frank Nitti, who had returned to the room, stood by his side like a shadow, quietly waiting for his next words.
It was Al Capone who spoke first.
"Frank, what do you think?"
At that question, Nitti was silent for a moment.
How much time had passed?
"It sounds like an interesting plan."
A smile of interest played on Nitti's lips.
"It would be better to follow that Oriental's plan than to tremble while holding only cash like we do now, Boss. I'll have to make him do it to see if it's actually a feasible plan, though."
Whoosh—!
Hearing Nitti's answer, Capone exhaled a cloud of white cigar smoke from his mouth.
"Right... is that so?"
If what Al Capone possessed was drive and an animalistic sense for money, what Frank Nitti, the second-in-command of the Chicago Outfit, possessed was excellent business acumen and calculation skills.
Therefore, Nitti's answer that it was interesting was enough to influence his decision.
Of course, there was another reason.
'At first, I thought they were just playing at love... Did she see something in that Oriental guy?'
A guy who spouts off quite plausible words even with a gun muzzle in front of him.
At the very least, his guts were worth acknowledging.
'I don't know if he'll work as well as he talks, though.'
And there was only one way to find out.
"Frank, didn't we have a spare warehouse near the Calumet River?"
"Yes, Boss. We were planning to stock up on hooch to supply the western side of Chicago soon."
"Give that to that Oriental guy."
"...Pardon?"
Nitti looked flustered at Al Capone's unexpected words, but Al Capone said it with an indifferent expression.
"And give him some money and attach some boys to him."
"Boss."
"Just proceed. I've become curious about that guy, whether he's Chinese or Korean."
Of course, if he couldn't live up to expectations, the revolver on his desk would pour out lead bullets.
***
"Haa..."
I really thought I was going to die this time.
As the heavy mahogany door closed, I grabbed my trembling legs, the tension finally draining away.
I pretended to be fine in front of Al Capone, but how many people would truly be fine with a pistol aimed at them?
Especially if they were an ordinary citizen like me.
"Honey!"
I turned my head at the familiar voice coming from right beside me.
It was Rita.
She looked at my pale face, and for a moment, she had a worried expression, but soon, her signature playful smile appeared.
"Are you okay? Your expression looks like someone who sold their soul to the devil."
"I'm okay, for now."
At least, seeing as I didn't have a new ventilation hole in my head yet, it seemed I had piqued my future father-in-law's interest.
Of course, if it ended at interest and I couldn't show proper results, the outcome wouldn't be much different.
"Anyway, I'm glad he seems to like you. I almost became a widow before I could even get married, you know?"
"That's a pretty scary joke."
"It's not a joke."
Hey, that's even scarier.
My expression stiffened at Rita's serious words, but she continued without a care.
"But what did you say to make him like you? I couldn't hear anything after I left."
"It's nothing much, just... we talked a bit about money."
"Money?"
It wasn't a lie.
The only problem was what kind of money it was.
"I'll tell you later, for now... I just want to rest."
Cold sweat was breaking out all over my body, and my vision was slightly blurry; it felt like I had used up 10, no, 20 years of my lifespan.
If I had failed, about 60 years of my lifespan would have flown away, so I could say it was a profitable deal, but that fact didn't help recover my body, which was soaked in extreme fatigue and stress.
"I knew you'd say that, so I prepared in advance, Honey."
It was then that Rita spoke up.
"Prepared... you say?"
"When I went outside earlier, I booked a hotel room. It's about five floors down from here."
As I looked at her with a puzzled expression, a meaningful smile spread across her lips as she stopped talking.
"We're going to be a married couple soon, shouldn't we do the things married couples do?"
Ah.