The Unexpected Complication
If you can’t do it yourself, you make someone else do it.
It took roughly an hour to make a prototype in a corner of the factory. The rough recipe was just a mix of things I’d seen back in my past life while living as a lab student, stirred together in my head. All I had to do was measure and mix according to that recipe, so it wasn't much of a chore.
I poured the finished prototype into a bottle, then shook it toward Rita and Nitti, who had been watching my work.
"Here is the prototype."
"It only took you an hour?"
"It’s just mixing, really."
I shrugged at a fascinated Rita, set the bottle down, and took off my coat. Ugh, it’s winter, so it’s a bit chilly. Still, I couldn't show weakness. I tried my best to steady my shivering body and gently laid the coat I was holding onto the floor. And then.
Stomp! Stomp!
The next thing I did was enthusiastically stomp on the coat lying on the floor.
"Hot! Hot!"
"...Honey? What are you doing to a perfectly good coat?"
"What are you trying to do?"
Perhaps my coat-tap-dance was quite the spectacle, as both spectators' eyes widened as if they were about to pop out. I stopped my tap dance and picked up the coat, which was now covered in the dirt and oil stains from the floor and my shoes.
"Time to test the prototype."
Pat, pat.
After finishing my sentence, I roughly brushed off the dirt from the coat and hung the oil-stained garment on a pre-prepared hanger.
"This isn't for general household use; it's a detergent for laundromats or industrial laundry factories."
Splosh-!
With that explanation, I poured the prototype I’d bottled—the dry-cleaning detergent—evenly over the left sleeve of the coat. Soon, white steam rose as the methanol evaporated, and a sharp, stinging scent pierced the air.
After about 30 seconds, when the white steam subsided, I took a dry cloth from my pocket and wiped the sleeve that had been stained with grease.
"Hmm, just as I thought."
I smiled with satisfaction as I looked at the sleeve, which had been cleaned perfectly without a single stubborn stain left. Methanol itself was a substance used to some extent in laundromats at the time for removing paint or ink, and it was something we used at our own laundry shop, so I had no doubts about the cleaning quality. Nobody, however, had thought to make it into a product to sell from a factory instead of just mixing it with soap at home.
"Wow, there's a clear difference between the part you applied it to and the part you didn't, isn't there?"
"It’s a bit dangerous, though. But since it’s diluted, as long as you ventilate well, it won’t have any major side effects. That’s how they used it in laundromats anyway."
I gave a brief explanation to a fascinated Rita, who was looking at the clean coat sleeve, and then looked at Nitti.
"So, you intend to sell this?"
"The cleaning speed is fast, and it’s much cheaper than existing products. It has the disadvantage of being slightly dangerous, but compared to just wood alcohol, it’s nothing. The demand will be sufficient."
"How are you going to handle the organization's money with mere detergent?"
Ah, did I not explain that?
"The important thing isn't selling the detergent, but the process of making it. In fact, it doesn't matter if we sell this at a loss. No, we have to show a loss."
"Are you saying you're going to use the organization's money to create a deficit? What kind of bullshit are you..."
As my explanation began, Nitti reached for the pistol hidden inside his coat. But I wasn't finished yet.
"That deficit is the core of this 'money laundering'."
"What?"
"You can get caught at any time just by cooking the books or inflating sales."
Like your boss did. Ah, he's my father-in-law now, isn't he? Oops, my apologies.
"But this isn't just a simple sales-inflation trick. Unlike making things up, we are actually developing, producing, and selling a product. It is, quite literally, legal."
However, all the costs invested in that 'legal' production process come from the organization's money. The cash the Chicago Outfit has stashed in their safes will be invested into SCC through borrowed-name accounts, and that investment will flow through the veins of the company and factory under numerous guises like raw material procurement, research and development, marketing, and logistics. And the money that returns after everything is finished will have been transformed into 'legal' money generated through SCC's business operations.
Of course, I couldn't do all of this by myself.
"Mr. Nitti."
"What is it?"
I stated my requirements to Nitti, who was answering with a slight frown, whether he understood my explanation or not.
"I need a lawyer and an accountant. I assume the Boss and the organization have people connected to them."
If I can't do it alone, I just have to make someone else do it.
Although the prototype had been made, it would take some time for SCC's factory to start churning out detergent in earnest. It would look suspicious to anyone if products suddenly appeared when the ink on the company's articles of incorporation hadn't even dried yet. Besides, it took time to prepare for actual sales, so I had to handle various things for a month. Among them, the most important thing was this very moment.
None other than the engagement ceremony for Rita and me.
"Oh."
I looked around the grand banquet hall located on the first basement floor of the Lexington Hotel with an impressed expression. Perhaps to hide its age, the decorations—gold, jewels, mahogany, marble, and so on—were gaudily ornate, almost to the point of being excessive.
"He said it was for safety, but Father prepared it quite simply. I’m starting to feel a little disappointed."
"This is... simple?"
"Father likes parties. He usually prepares them much more lavishly than this."
Then, just how much money does he dump into a lavish party? I looked down at the tuxedo I was wearing with an absurd expression. I don't know for sure, but if you added up all the components of this tuxedo, it would probably be more expensive than my house. If I moved wrong and ripped it, my family might end up on the streets that very day. Or perhaps, I might receive a hail of lead as change.
I finished my imagination, shuddered, and turned my gaze into the banquet hall. The hall was filled with people holding champagne glasses. Most were key executives of the Chicago Outfit, the Boss's organization, and businessmen who had business relationships with the organization. Outside the circle of about 40 or 50 people laughing and chatting in a strange tension, organization members in suits were standing guard to prevent attacks from other organizations.
I first approached my parents, who had arrived at the banquet hall and were sitting at a table.
"Father, Mother. How are you doing?"
"How do you think? *Ahem.* There’s an old saying that even if you enter a tiger's den, you can survive if you keep your wits about you."
My father, dressed in a suit, answered nonchalantly to my question.
"Are you saying that with your face turned pale white?"
"Wh-who turned pale white?"
However, my father, who shouted back at my mother's follow-up, already had no color left in his face.
"You don't have to be too nervous. Father and Mother are important guests, after all."
"Yes, yes. Thanks to Jun, I even got to wear a dress like this. It’s worth it to have raised a son, isn't it? Thank you, dear."
"Oh, don't mention it. Well then, I'll go somewhere else for a moment."
At my mother's response, wearing a dress she had never seen in her life, I grinned and turned with Rita. Now, it was time to meet the most important person in this place.
"Boss."
I approached Al Capone, who was sitting near the podium, and offered a polite greeting. Then, the Boss of the Chicago Outfit and my future father-in-law turned his head to look at me.
"You're here?"
"It took a while to prepare. There were a few things to handle regarding that matter."
'That matter' was, of course, the company I was in charge of, SCC, and the money laundering. Among those tasks, what I did today was briefly explain the concept of my plan to the lawyers and accountants who had close ties to my father-in-law. The concept was something I could explain since I had seen the methods in the future, but making it actually possible was up to these people, so it was a necessary task.
"You must prepare well. It is a matter of handling the organization's money, after all."
"Of course."
I answered politely to Al Capone, who was scowling at me with the scar on his face as he issued a threat.
"Father, do you have to talk about work on a day like this?"
"Did you forget that the organization's work is more important than anything? It is only natural."
Perhaps I was too frozen, as Rita, who was next to me, whined slightly, but Al Capone scoffed as if it were obvious and bit into his cigar. It was then that Rita carefully opened her mouth toward Capone.
"...What about Mother and Sonny?"
"They didn't come. They said they didn't have any intention of coming, so I didn't bring them."
"I see."
Rita nodded with a relieved expression at her father-in-law's blunt answer. Since Rita's biological mother had already passed away, he must be referring to Mae Capone, Al Capone's legal wife, and his son. Seeing her face brighten at the fact that the two didn't come, it didn't seem like they had a very good relationship.
It was then that my father-in-law suddenly turned his head to look at me.
"That’s enough of that. Anyway, I have to say what needs to be said."
"If you mean what you have to say..."
"It’s like advice from a father with a daughter."
...Was he the kind of person who could do that?
I, who never thought I would hear ordinary well-wishes from Al Capone, couldn't say anything and just blinked.
"If you disappoint my daughter or make her cry, I will turn your whole body into a sieve with a Tommy gun."
Of course, whether his words should be seen as well-wishes would require a long discussion, but still.
"I will never disappoint her."
"Yes, good. The same goes for the organization's work, so don't forget that."
At my voice, which answered more confidently than ever, Al Capone finally nodded with a satisfied expression.
"The event will start soon. Before that, I’d like to hear the rest of that story from earlier."
"Of course."
At my father-in-law's follow-up, I nodded and sat down at the table to finish the story about the money laundering from earlier. No, I intended to sit.
"Ugh, ugh."
That was until Rita suddenly started retching out of nowhere.
"Rita?"
"I think the champagne didn't agree with me, why all of a sudden... ugh."
She retched repeatedly before she could even finish her sentence. That moment.
"Heh."
My father-in-law let out a dry laugh and looked at me.
"Impressive. For an Oriental, you’re truly impressive. It seems there is a reason my daughter fell for you."
The King of the Underworld looked at me with an expression that seemed half-admiration and half-anger. No, what on earth is that...
While I was blinking in confusion, my father-in-law turned his head and shouted. Soon, I understood why he had let out that dry laugh.
"Someone go out and call a doctor, an obstetrician."
"Ah."
She's pregnant. I thought... wait.
Excuse me?
Rita is... pregnant?
At that moment, I stopped thinking.