Revenge Three

On the third floor of the headquarters building, in the office at the end of the hallway.

Lucas Parr, the boss of the Oak Gang who wore his hair in a slicked-back style, sat in a leather chair, meticulously fiddling with some torture implements on his desk. He was pondering how to pry open that kid Gilan's mouth to find the location of the film roll.

However, a sudden, abrupt gunshot from outside caused Lucas to knit his brows.

With a clatter, he tossed the pair of pliers he was holding aside. He wanted to light a cigarette, only to find the pack was already empty.

Lucas cursed under his breath and bent down to rummage through a cabinet. A moment later, he pulled out a fresh pack of cigarettes. As he tore it open, he called out impatiently:

"Folk!"

Before long, the office door pushed open.

"Boss, what is it?" a man's voice came.

"What the hell is going on outside?!"

Lucas didn't even look up. He pulled out a cigarette and clamped it between his lips, but his hand, holding the match, suddenly froze.

Because he realized that the voice responding to him was not Folk's at all!

He jerked his head up.

A pitch-black muzzle was already aimed directly at his eyes.

Lucas glanced up along the Luger Pistol—a hand wrapped in blood-stained white cloth, a black tunic, and an expressionless face with specks of blood beneath a beige soft cap.

Gilan Iros?!

His pupils constricted involuntarily.

After a brief moment of shock, Lucas calmly struck a match.

Sss.

He lit the cigarette in his mouth, shook out the match between his fingers, and leaned back into the soft leather chair, saying coolly:

"It seems you've already taken care of the men downstairs, Gilan... Truly incredible. How did you do it? I didn't believe that fat pig Hashem at first, but now it seems I have no choice. You really did carve a bloody path out of the police station all on your own!"

Lucas exhaled a cloud of smoke and shook his head with a self-deprecating smile.

"Heh, I was naive enough to think I could control you, never expecting I was inviting a wolf into the house... You gained such skills because of that black film roll, didn't you? No wonder the police and the higher-ups are so nervous and desperate to get it back."

Gilan did not respond to Lucas's question, merely saying flatly:

"Is this your last will and testament?"

"Last words? No, no, no." Lucas wore a sincere smile, spreading his hands. "I know my previous offenses against you have angered you, and for that, I offer my sincere apologies. I will even provide you with satisfactory compensation! There are no eternal enemies in this world, only eternal interests. We can cooperate!"

"With your strength and that film roll, I can convince old Mr. Layton Louis to use all his connections and resources to protect you. Then, you won't have to hide anymore; you could even walk sideways through Black City! Even if you want to leave one day, I can guarantee you a smooth departure to another region without police interference!"

Lucas spoke with conviction, his eyes locked onto the blonde youth before him.

Gilan nodded.

"I can tell you aren't lying to me."

"Of course. Your value is far higher than you think, Mr. Gilan."

Lucas kept his smile, feeling a secret sense of relief in his heart.

BANG!!

The smile on his face froze, a bloody hole appearing between his brows.

Lucas slumped into the leather chair. In the final moment before his consciousness plunged into darkness, he remained confused; he simply could not understand why Gilan would kill him despite such tempting chips on the table.

"But a man can never forget the debts he owes."

Gilan holstered his pistol and said softly.

"That is my creed, and I leave it to you, Mr. Lucas Parr."

He strode over, grabbed the leather chair, and flipped it over, corpse and all.

Clatter!

Immediately, Gilan began searching the desk. He soon found a locked drawer.

Too lazy to look for the key, he simply kicked it.

BANG!

The solid wood drawer front shattered instantly. Gilan reached in with an expressionless face and pulled out a ledger, a roll of banknotes, and a gold watch.

He toyed with the expensive gold watch and nodded to himself.

In the original body's memories, things like clocks and watches were not something an ordinary family could possess. Even the cheapest wall clock cost at least 2 to 3 Caesar, let alone a delicate, compact gold watch.

Working-class people who needed to be at work on time, or teamsters hauling goods in the early morning, would hire a "Window Knocker" to wake them at a fixed time. Each "wake-up service" cost only 1 Melang.

As for the profession of "Window Knocker," as long as one gritted their teeth and saved enough money to buy a clock once, then invested in a long bamboo pole, they could secure a long-term income.

It was evident that in the eyes of the general public, clocks and watches were undoubtedly precious luxury items.

Lucas's gold watch should be worth about 10 Caesar.

Gilan estimated silently and tucked it into his handbag.

As for the roll of banknotes, after counting, it totaled exactly 15 Caesar.

This was by no means a small sum, yet Gilan frowned. Having personally participated in the bootlegging trade, he knew that the Oak Gang dealt in contraband beyond just moonshine.

Lucas should never have had such a meager amount of illicit funds on hand.

Before the Bremen Empire enacted the "Prohibition," a bottle of whiskey could be bought for 5 Melang. Now, however, the Oak Gang's home-brewed "Mr. Barley"—essentially watered-down, inferior whiskey—sold for 1 Pfennig a bottle. That was more than double the price; it was pure, unadulterated profiteering.

As for the other product, "Miss Grape," their home-brewed red wine, it sold for 3 Pfennig and 10 Melang per bottle. The Oak Gang should have been swimming in money.

Frowning, Gilan opened the ledger.

He found the answer quickly.

"January 31, 1926, Dawn Era: Delivered 53 Gold Caesar to Mr. Pa Louis. Business was good over the New Year."

"February 28, 1926, Dawn Era: Delivered 29 Gold Caesar to Miss Beatty Louis. The police have been keeping a close watch lately; two of the boys were almost arrested."

"..."

"May 31, 1926, Dawn Era: Delivered 42 Gold Caesar to Mr. Kurt Louis. Sold a gramophone and threw in a vinyl record for the buyer."

"Thanks to the 'Fortune Well,' the bootlegging business is doing so well! The old man values me so much! Should I send a few more men to guard it... I'll think about it for a few more days."

Looking at the records and handwriting left by Lucas in the ledger, Gilan immediately understood that all the Oak Gang's money was being siphoned off by the Louis Family behind them.

It seems the connection between the Louis Family and the Oak Gang is even tighter than I imagined.

Gilan closed the ledger, thought for a moment, and tucked it into his briefcase to take with him.

Having killed Lucas and the gang members who had framed him, and having looted about 25 Caesar worth of valuables, he was in a great mood.

He bent down, grabbed the back of Lucas's corpse by the collar, and strolled out of the office.

Some time had passed since the shootout, and the gang members disguised as porters in the scrapyard had heard the commotion and rushed over, crowding into the courtyard of the headquarters building.

Seeing the corpses strewn across the ground, they couldn't help but gasp, the stench of blood stinging their nostrils.

"My god! W-what on earth happened here?!"

The gang members were filled with horror.

Just then, someone noticed something and shouted:

"Look! Someone's upstairs!"

Everyone looked up, and the next second, a dark shadow plummeted from the sky, crashing heavily in front of them.

THUD!!

Dust billowed, and blood splattered everywhere.

When they looked closer, it was a corpse with twisted limbs!

The leather jacket, the slicked-back hair, the beard—wasn't that their boss, Lucas?!

"Boss... is dead?!"

The gang members were terrified, frozen by the sight.

Before long, a tall figure slowly emerged from the stairwell.

With a briefcase in one hand and a gun in the other, he walked toward them with measured steps.

A strong gust of wind swept through the courtyard, blowing the beige fedora off the man's head to reveal a mess of blonde hair and a cold, mocking smile beneath.

Suddenly, the man raised his pistol toward them!

A dozen gang members felt their scalps tingle, and they turned and fled, screaming.

"Gilan's gone mad! Run! Run!!"

However, Gilan did not fire.

He only killed those who tried to harm him.

Watching the gang members scramble away, Gilan slowly holstered his gun.

"I am not a madman," he said, striding forward into the wind. "I am a gentleman with manners."

Thank you all for your monthly tickets!

Thanks to "Xingchen Ye" for the 500-point tip!

Thanks to "Tianxia Zhi Renjian" for the 500-point tip!

Thanks to "Yuanhuo Ka Nian'gao" for the 500-point tip!

Thanks to "Xingmang Hanxue Piao" for the 100-point tip!

On a side note, the first round of new book PK starts next week. If you think Mad Dream is decent, I, Luobo, humbly ask for your continued support. Thank you!