Chapter 55
Chapter 55
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 55
Chapter Title: The Don's Generous Offers
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The garden of the Minster estate.
Three men sat facing each other with grim expressions.
They had gained considerable status when they purchased the earl's title.
But then their sons got caught up in the drug wave, and the family's fortunes took a massive hit.
The family head had squandered their assets trying to get them out.
The youngest son, whom they'd discarded, had come offering to buy the family's secret elixir...
But even that had been snatched away for free by the intruding princess.
Earl Damon Minster, receiving full karmic retribution, was deeply troubled.
"You fools..."
His two sons, barely spared from prison, sat slumped in their chairs with haggard faces.
"Do you have any idea how much gold it cost to bail you idiots out?"
The family head glared at them disapprovingly and let out a heavy sigh.
"We're sorry, Father."
"We have no face to show you. We'll work hard to pay it back."
They'd thought their sons had made some names for themselves in their respective fields.
Seeing them hunched over like that was heartbreaking.
But soon, their shoulders didn't just hunch—they shriveled up completely.
Because carriages they'd never seen before were pulling into the estate entrance.
"Who's outside?"
"No idea. Looks like carriages, but not just one or two."
At first, they thought it was that bastard Derek.
But the moment they saw the ominous wolf emblem on the carriages...
Both sons and even their father realized it all at once.
The ones surrounding the estate were the infamous Bacar Mafia.
"...?"
The sons' faces had long turned pale as ghosts.
Family head Damon froze in his chair.
"You two didn't mess with the mafia too, did you?"
"No way. What good could come from tangling with those scary bastards?"
The Minster family had always been one plagued by bad karma.
They figured enemies had sniffed out their weakened state and come raiding.
"Are you inside?"
A deep, chilling voice called from the entrance.
The three men, faces tense, slowly went out to greet them.
"..."
The scene outside was quite the spectacle.
Men in crisp white suits visible through the iron gates.
Tall and handsome, but the scars on their eyes and foreheads made them look ferocious.
The Minster servants trembled in fear.
Spotting the family head, they rushed over like meerkats to report.
"Th-they want to see you, family head."
"Got it. I'll talk to them first."
Earl Damon Minster, who had once made a name as an assassin.
When real gangsters showed up, he straightened his collar and stepped forward.
"Who might you be, visiting our estate...?"
A man with shoulders broad as the Pacific emerged, jacket draped over them.
Intense features peeked from under a fedora.
He smiled with a cigar in his mouth and greeted them.
'Don Derek? Who's that?'
The old snake blinked vacantly.
Then a bear of a man handed over a business card.
「Derek Minster, Head of Minster Group.」
"The young master of your house. He sent us personally."
Earl Damon blankly looked around.
Numerous carriages and white-suited men radiating solid mana.
So right now...
All these guys were subordinates of the youngest son they'd thrown away?
"Father, these guys are the Bacar Mafia."
"The most dangerous faction in the capital—don't piss them off no matter what!"
The two sons whispered urgently behind their father.
His ears itching, the family head snapped.
"Shut your mouths, you idiots."
Earl Damon hurriedly composed himself.
He cleared his throat and forced a smile.
"Ahem, yes. I'm Derek's father."
"We've come to discuss some business."
The earl led Chichi into the garden.
"Don Derek mentioned your family must be going through tough times."
"Can't deny that."
Damon responded humbly for now.
No, he had no choice but to be humble.
The Bacar Mafia were one of the capital's largest independent powers.
If they wanted, they could take down an imperial knight order with them.
"So, the esteemed 'Don Derek' has graciously offered a chance to collaborate."
Chichi glanced at the two men standing at attention behind the father.
The silver-haired sons, handsome and holding noble titles.
"First, a proposal for the eldest son. We'd like approval for the anesthetic developed by Minster Medical."
"An anesthetic for surgery? What's so special about it that you're pushing so hard?"
The White Tower mainly oversaw the empire's magic.
Medical arts were included, so Dexter's expression turned serious.
"This is it. The young master developed it himself."
Dexter took a puff.
True to a White Tower mage, he immediately recognized its excellent painkilling effects.
"This really works. But he developed it personally?"
The moment he called Derek "that guy."
Chichi's eyes turned icy cold.
The mood grew heavy, like melancholic cello music playing in the background.
"What did you just call Derek?"
"Ahaha... Sorry. The tech's so advanced it surprised me..."
The eldest son, who used to utterly ignore his youngest brother, now elevated his name.
He bowed his head repeatedly, apologizing without thinking.
"If Mr. Dexter secures the approval, Don Derek promised 10% of the anesthetic profits."
"Approval isn't that easy, and 10% is a bit..."
Chichi furrowed his thick brows again.
As if questioning if he dared make the boss repeat himself.
"We'll take it. Anesthetics like this have little competition—10% will be huge profits!"
"As expected of the young master's brother. So gentlemanly."
The two tall white-suited bodyguards behind Chichi clapped.
The meerkat-like servants exchanged glances and joined in the applause.
"Next, we have business with Decker as well."
"Me too...?"
The second son, lately very humble.
He scratched the back of his head, no longer even wearing perfume.
"We heard you were once a famous gladiator."
"That's old news..."
"When we run our gambling dens, betting on you brought big wins. Creates a sense of inner closeness, you know."
"Ah, thank you."
The second son bowed deeply.
Mid-bow, he gulped at the modified pistol holstered at Chichi's waist.
In an era where muskets had just appeared, they already had pistols.
Decker instinctively knew these mafia weren't just nobles—they were far more powerful.
"The boss wants you as director of Minster Guard."
"Me?"
Though Decker had been involved in the drug scandal, he was a popular handsome gladiator.
One of the judges was even his fan, helping him get out easily.
Perfect as the group's star face.
"Yes. You just got fired from the Colosseum and are unemployed, right? Your fame will boost the security firm greatly."
"If you're offering work, I'm all for it."
Decker grinned and nodded.
His sons were infamous for their arrogance, but today they humbled themselves completely.
"However, the young master has one condition."
The Minster family was already thrilled at the benefits from their youngest.
Ready to accept any reasonable terms.
But Chichi's next words made them freeze.
"Derek is the head of Minster Group, but I'm the actual manager. If you disobey orders or scheme anything and get caught..."
The white-suited men's expressions darkened instantly.
Only then did the Minsters fully grasp who they were dealing with.
"You'll face Derek-style revenge."
"Wh-what's 'Derek-style revenge'?"
Family head Damon asked cautiously.
The white wolves behind Chichi grinned.
"Whipping the body till the flesh tears, then soaking in an orange vat."
The brothers' faces went sheet-white at their blackened little brother's cruel punishment.
"Haha, of course, you gentlemen are too refined for that."
Chichi and the bodyguards roared with laughter.
As if they'd done such things casually many times.
Under that hearty laughter, the Minster brothers had no choice but to laugh along.
And so, they ended up...
Hired by Minster Group.
For a very cheap price, at that.
In the carriage heading back to the prison.
I sat in the back seat next to the vice warden and let out a deep breath.
'By now, Chichi should be taming my brothers nicely.'
In the end, I accepted the ring.
Couldn't help it—they looked ready to follow me all the way to the prison if I refused.
Thanks to that, a chunky ruby ring now sat heavily on my index finger.
Of course, its stats were ridiculously good.
It explained how the mafia managed three generations of succession—huge help for my growth.
"That ring looks tacky."
Clea, sitting beside me, threw a straight pitch.
The back seat was so spacious she'd kicked off her shoes and drawn her knees up.
Her black stockings stretched taut, almost translucent.
"Right? Doesn't really suit me."
"It's not that it doesn't suit you. It fits your image perfectly, Warden."
I narrowed my eyes at the vice warden.
She let out a rare smirk.
"That expression makes you really look like Don Derek."
"Don't use that name in front of the imperial family. They'll lump us together unnecessarily."
I clicked my tongue, and Clea leisurely pressed the armrest.
A drawer slid open, revealing fragrant black tea and a teapot.
"Well, whatever. You laundered it into Minster Group nicely. Didn't expect you to aim for the underworld too."
Clea poured the steaming tea as if praising my ambitions.
I insisted it wasn't intentional, but she just added sugar.
"Thanks to you, we got this luxurious carriage too."
Sleek black carriage pulled by black horses.
With the mafia's wolf emblem, anyone could tell it was a villain's ride.
'Come to think of it, the roads that were always jammed feel wide open now.'
The Bacar carriage sped through the open plains beyond the outer capital walls.
No nosy nobles harassing us—it was refreshingly pleasant.
'Having a bad rep isn't so bad in ways like this.'
Even the usually aloof Clea sipped her tea contentedly.
"Still, be careful. Growing power too fast can make the higher-ups uneasy."
The vice warden, formerly an imperial secretary, gave pointed advice.
"One royal actually forced his singer fiancée to retire when she got too famous."
"It's fine. I don't plan on promotions anyway."
The higher my infamy, the less Princess Camillia could call me to the palace.
Letting me stay warden forever.
"Promotions are a headache. My dream is chilling in the boonies."
"True, your rep helps with that."
Clea agreed flatly.
We entrusted ourselves to the comfy seats and dozed off.
Looking forward to tending prisoners again and sucking sweet honey, my mind was at ease.
But.
While I slept, odd system alerts popped up.