Filed to story: A Bullied Boy Died: A Mafia King Woke Up In His Body
“I recently heard about two inquisitors arriving in the sector. Rumor is they’re here about guns, though I don’t have any details.” Damian said, rejecting Keith’s suggestion. He always had his ear close to the ground, having many connections with the locals due to his long years in the gang, so he was always being told all sorts of rumors.
“Then it’s best not to enter the gun market until we know exactly what is happening.” Kyle didn’t want to poke the hornet’s nest, not right after the visit from Sebastian. “We need something far more lowkey, something that everyone is doing, so that no one will bat an eye at the Seven Snakes joining in.”
“Smuggling is an option. Human trafficking pays fairly well with the slave trade being ubiquitous in Raktor. Even small gangs here do it.”
“Out of the question-that would also piss off the locals, and we don’t have the manpower to operate in other districts either,” Kyle said. “Operating there would also piss off the gangs in charge. Far too dangerous. However, you mentioned the small thug groups here. How many of them are there?”
“Well, it can be assumed that every block has about one to two. Our district has about fifty-four blocks populated, with another twenty abandoned, now occupied by squatters and others. Many small groups flock here because of the lack of enforcement, primarily from us rather than the enforcers,” Keith replied.
Such a high ratio of gangs would be unheard of in the other districts. Kyle sighed at their abysmal lack of influence, contemplating his next step. He had initially improved the performance of the brothel thanks to the addictive stamina potions, so the logical next step would be to improve the performance of the pub.
“Keith, any financial report on the pub?”
“Yes, sir, but the report doesn’t really make much sense. Some months, the pub reports a one-to-one ratio of revenue and operating cost.”
“Down to the last rakel?”
Keith nodded, his response setting off alarm bells in Kyle’s head.
Someone has falsified the accounts. Even such a business should experience seasonal changes due to events and holidays. Kyle assumed it was Ulon, but he couldn’t rule out the possibility that the pub’s manager was also involved.
“Let’s check the pub that we own before making our next move.”
“You mean the Seductive Serpent?”
“Who the hell is coming up with these names?”
*****
Unlike the brothel, which was run by the competent Slavin, the pub was an absolute disgrace, a place fitting of the name “watering hole.” The décor was shabby, the lighting dim and flickering, and the entire place stank to high Sanctum of Yual. Empty cups were barely cleaned, with some being left on tables for weeks. Dried residue of piss and vomit lined the crevices between shoddy wooden planks, and Kyle found it hard to find a piece of wooden furniture that did not have some sort of large crack along its length.
Near the rear of the pub were three thick, long ropes hung from corner to corner in a drooping curve, upon which a few Seven Snakes members were sleeping.
“Do our members not have beds?” Kyle asked Damian as he noticed Niko dangling on the coarse rope and snoring away peacefully while a dribble of vomit seeped from his mouth, piling up in the belly button of another blackout drunk below him.
“They do, but many prefer this idea of hanging over a rope.” Damian shrugged before walking up to what could be barely described as a bartender and slapping him awake.
“I… uh… Who… What?” The bartender groaned as he rubbed his cheek gently… and fell off the rope onto the floor in shambles. Seeing the man struggling to get up, Kyle’s impression of him dropped significantly.
I can’t have my bartenders getting drunk themselves.
“Keith, check the finances. Where’s the manager?”
“Uhh, sir? This is the manager.” Damian pointed to the obviously drunk bartender, who was now staggering all over the place, banging his head on the wall and collapsing.
“That’s not good.” Kyle’s gaze slowly turned dark, a simmering rage building within him at the sheer incompetence. Compared to the Lusty Arcian, this pub was a hellhole.
“Sir. There’s no financial record kept here. Everything seems to be written in this notebook.” Keith handed over a stained notebook filled to the brim with the tabs of each customer. Kyle flipped through the book quickly, noticing almost nine-tenths of the customers were Seven Snakes members, causing his heart to sink.
Furthermore, none of the Seven Snakes members had actually paid their tabs. The operational cost seemed to have been entirely fueled by the loan taken out from the Crimson Swords.
This isn’t even skimming off the top in some self-interested scam-it’s a complete self-scam!
Kyle wanted to tear the entire place apart. “There’s nothing seductive about this place at all! Why is it called the Seductive Serpent?!”
“It used to be quite the spot, back in its heyday,” Damian replied. “Sir.” He added quickly as Kyle threw him a furious glare.
“Then for our members to continue drinking here, the alcohol must be somewhat passable.” Kyle took a seat on one of the creaky barstools, motioning to Damian to serve a mug. Damian immediately knew what to do, heading back into the storehouse to crack open a keg. “You seem to know your way around the bar.”
“I used to bartend here before joining the Seven Snakes.”
As the beer sloshed out of the keg and into the mug, a rancid smell filled the room, causing even the usually stoic Kyle to cringe in disgust.