Filed to story: A Bullied Boy Died: A Mafia King Woke Up In His Body
The food market was still just as crowded as when they first arrived, hectic and bustling with activity. The locals seemed to be on lunch break, gossiping about everything under the sun. Kyle took a slower walk, keeping his ears peeled for any rumors-a vital skill in a foreign environment.
“Did you hear? The Veiled Angels subjugated three gangs in a row in the West Sector!”
“Wow, so the Violet Demons are neck and neck for domination, aren’t they?”
“Yeah, they both hold twelve districts each. I feel bad for the gangs trapped in the last six remaining. A bloodbath is going to happen over the next few months, for sure. I only hope the Sanctum of Yual will not intervene this time; it would be even worse.”
Thirty districts in a sector… Kyle was listening intently when Damian tugged his shoulder to the side. “Sir, see those two? Local enforcers of the Sanctum.”
He pointed to two men nearly covered in white, only the engravings of gold and red on their shirts, pants, and shoes breaking the monotony. They were simply patrolling, checking the stalls of the food market.
“Sanctum?”
“The main religion of the Yual Dominion.” Damian sighed internally, now truly believing Kyle was a completely different personality from Alvin. “They enforce the law of the Yual Dominion around here, though the local enforcers usually close one eye to gang activity. They are far too understaffed to make a difference here even if they wanted to, though it would be best if we did not directly clash with them.”
Another significant power to watch out for. Kyle frowned. He had long forgotten the feeling of being a small fish in a big pond. Back in his former life, he had been the most prominent crime lord for a long time, dominating entire clusters of stars.
Perhaps that was why I was so easily betrayed at the end…
The two walked back to the gang’s base through the food market.
As they neared the entrance, Kyle suddenly spun around and faced the other man directly. Damian gulped, the familiar, stern expression on Kyle’s face reminding him how brutal the new gang leader had been against Ulon.
“Damian, was it? I understand none of the gang members have been formally educated or trained, with the exception of Keith.”
“Huh? Yes, indeed. We never had the money for that.”
The best underlings are loyal ones who are competent. As of now, they seem to be lacking in both physical and mental training…
Kyle frowned, not replying and re-entering the Seven Snakes base. He had not really paid attention to it the first time he had entered, but now he focused more on the décor, layout, and furnishing.
“How big is this base?”
“Sir, we own the entire basement floor of this building. It is only one floor, though-a downsize from our previous five-story building that was lost.”
“I assume ‘lost because of debt,'” Kyle remarked.
Damian nodded timidly. Why was he feeling ashamed of how far the gang had fallen? Perhaps it was because he had been singled out as the oldest gang member, making everything seem like it was his fault.
“Show me around.”
“Sir, you’ve already seen your office and your-“
“I meant everywhere else. I want to see the rest of the base.”
It was unheard of for gang leaders to actually leave the vicinity of their room or office, much less tour the quarters or common areas shared by the members. What if they poisoned him? Backstabbed him? Ulon had never gotten too close with others to avoid that very scenario.
Damian glanced at Kyle’s face, who didn’t seem to give a shit. He conceded, bringing him on a tour of the base.
The base layout was exceedingly simple. The entrance led into a short hallway, immediately splitting off in a T-junction. To the right were the gang leader’s quarters, including the office, personal room, and shower. Left was the rest. A big, bold red sign indicated that clearly.
Upon turning left, the two entered a large open common area joined to rooms along the side. The common area was filled with junk of all sorts. Heaps of broken metal, twisted wooden frames, and half-crushed pipes were stacked on the corners.
At the center, the gang members were out in force, playing games with one another on snooker tables the size of a room or training on sandbags and weights in the middle. A stolen arctech speaker playing garbled music echoed against the carpeted floor and dusty walls. The layout was extremely haphazard.
Most just lazed about on one of the many benches or sofas lying about; some were obviously stolen from an aristocrat’s setting, with the prior fluffy, pink upholstery now a diminished brown-stained disaster.
Kyle’s eyebrow twitched upon seeing the rampant mess. He was not one to fret about cleanliness, considering he had been regularly covered in blood since he could remember. However, it was the sheer disarray and lack of organization among them that really got to him.
“Damian. I would like to ask you a simple question.”
Damian froze, noticing the fearsome expression on Kyle’s face. “Anything, sir.”