Seething undercurrents

Oswald met Royce outside Maroni's mansion, an older man with graying hair who went by "Uncle."

He had one hand in his pocket, and cigarette butts littered the ground around his feet.

The night wind billowed into his open suit jacket.

Oswald, Madman Baron, and Uncle Royce divided the East District among them. The fifteen bosses jokingly called them the "Three Poor Giants."

Aside from Baron, a junkie whose mind had snapped, Royce was someone Oswald was relatively willing to deal with.

"What's wrong? You look like you've got a lot on your mind." Oswald approached, hoping to pry some information out of him.

"Harvey Dent came to see me a few days ago. I never reported it. Mr. Maroni called this meeting in such a hurry today, I'm afraid it might be related."

Royce had barely ground out his cigarette before impatiently lighting another. Afraid he would get shot the moment he entered the house, the old chain-smoker seemed determined to enjoy a lifetime's worth of cigarettes right here.

His words indirectly confirmed Oswald's suspicions.

"Don't worry. I'm in the same boat. If we're going to die in there, we'll die together."

Royce took a deep drag, then turned his head to look Oswald up and down. He had known Little Penguin for years and understood his personality all too well.

If Oswald were telling the truth, he should have been clutching his head, babbling away with despair written all over his face. There was no way he would look this calm, much less have the attention to spare to comfort him.

Yet the sincerity on his face made it seem unlikely that he was joking.

"You... you've changed quite a bit."

"Have I? I think so too." Oswald smiled. He was about to touch his nose when he hastily pulled his hand back. "I have a feeling that if anyone dies tonight, it won't be either of us."

"Then who? Surely not Dodge Bourbon!"

"Who knows?"

The two looked at each other for a moment, then laughed together.

Just then, a stretch Lincoln pulled up beside the road.

Even through the soundproof glass, the pounding bass reached their ears.

An absurdly large, pointed leather shoe kicked the door open. Dodge put on his suit jacket and, after accepting a kiss from a scantily clad woman inside the car, swaggered over to them.

"Well, if it isn't the Three Poor Giants. Oh! You're still one Drug Dog short of the full set. Where is he?"

"Perhaps he's already gone inside." Royce rubbed his hands together, hunched his back, and smiled obligingly.

In the past, Oswald would certainly have joined him in putting on a submissive front. Today, however, he simply watched Dodge calmly. If the plan failed, he would die. If it succeeded, Dodge would die. At this point, flattery was meaningless.

The three entered Maroni's mansion one after another.

This meeting was being held in the study rather than the conference room.

It was called a study, but "execution chamber" would have been more accurate. The two heavy doors, coated in dark brown wood varnish, stirred Oswald's memories.

Not long ago, he had walked in upright and been carried out covered in blood.

Without Qin Wei, he would not have survived.

Dodge noticed the change in Oswald's expression. He turned and reached out to straighten his collar.

"You know, Little Penguin, Harvey came to see every one of us. And here's another juicy bit of news: that Harvey was a fake..."

He deliberately paused, hoping to draw an even deeper fear out onto Oswald's face.

He was doomed to disappointment. Oswald took a deep breath and quickly composed himself. Royce, on the other hand, reacted dramatically, his mouth hanging open and the terror on his face plain to see.

"What? Harvey was a fake? Could Mr. Maroni have sent him?"

"I called the boss as soon as Harvey left. This information is absolutely genuine." Dodge could not be bothered with Royce. Oswald was clearly more entertaining.

He patted Penguin's face.

"The boss said that fake Harvey spent a long time at your place. He's very interested in what you two talked about. You'll be seeing him in a moment. I hope you can stay as calm as you are now.

"But compared to this little act you're putting on, I'm much more eager to see you rolling around on the floor, howling in misery."

Dodge bared a mouthful of large gold teeth, gave a few dry chuckles, and pushed the doors open with both hands.

The three were the last to arrive.

Maroni stood in the center of the room, leaning on his cane. The other bosses stood on either side, their heads lowered in silence.

"Boss, you're looking more dashing by the day!"

Dodge's laughter broke the silence. Unlike the other bosses, he had been fighting alongside Maroni fifteen years ago and had watched his rise step by step.

Now he was a veteran of the Roman Empire. The wealth his drug empire generated put him on a par with the boss, so naturally, he did not need to watch Maroni's mood the way the others did.

Maroni smiled back at him and casually drew the gun at his waist.

Blood would be difficult to clean off his tailored suit. Dodge hurriedly edged aside and gave Oswald his most sympathetic look.

Poor Little Penguin. It looks like you've made the boss very unhappy!

Bang!

The gunshot came right on cue. Even as Dodge lost his balance and toppled sideways, the smile had not entirely faded from his face.

He crashed awkwardly to the floor. About half a second later, searing agony erupted from the top of his calf, as though a red-hot iron had torn through flesh and bone to scorch his marrow. The piercing pain made him scream.

The agony robbed him of the ability to think. Instinctively, he pulled a packet of pills from his pocket and, without even opening it, stuffed it into his mouth and began chewing desperately.

As the pain eased, Dodge turned toward Maroni, his face contorted, and roared in outrage.

"Why!"

A phone smeared with wet mud was tossed in front of him.

"Dodge Bourbon, Dodge Bourbon..."

Maroni repeated the name mechanically. He put away his gun, raised his cane, and approached him one step at a time.

Leather shoes trod across the Persian carpet, making death's footsteps unusually soft. The candle flames suddenly flickered wildly, and Maroni's face twisted into something vicious in the shifting light and shadow.

The bosses lowered their eyes toward the space between their legs. Only Oswald kept his head raised, staring fixedly at Dodge.

Rolling around on the floor, howling? Dodge Bourbon, you predicted your own future quite accurately!

"Boss... Mr. Maroni! I have money. I'll give you all of it! Spare me, please, let me go!"

Fear swallowed Dodge whole. At that moment, he no longer wanted to know why. He only wanted to bury his dignity in the sand along with his head and beg for the faintest chance of survival.

Had Maroni sensed something was wrong?

Of course. He was a wily old fox. Dodge Bourbon's head was stuffed with drugs and women. Killing the fake Harvey, having someone put on his clothes to fool the cameras at the entrance, then calling Maroni to boast while pretending to know nothing and clear himself of suspicion-that was not his style.

What was more, not a trace of evidence had been left at Dodge's estate, apart from this phone, which was enough to condemn him.

Everything about the incident was strange.

But Dodge's words had confirmed his guilt.

Maroni raised his cane high.

Even now, Dodge did not understand what he had done wrong or what that phone was all about.

Then his eyes met Oswald's, and he saw the terrifying, vicious grin of a man whose scheme had succeeded.

"Little Penguin, it was you! You set me up..."

Dodge finally understood, but a little too late.

"Aah!!"

Amid his agonized scream, the cane plunged through his eye socket. Maroni destroyed his brain with a single blow.

There was one more corpse in the room.

Once the execution was complete, Maroni turned his gaze toward Oswald.

He remembered the man named Will who had been with Oswald.

Every boss here was a fool, an idiot, a pighead! If someone truly had orchestrated all of this from the shadows, it could only have been him.

The cane, smeared with blood and brain matter, pressed beneath Oswald's chin. Maroni narrowed his eyes and studied him with something resembling a smile.

"If you're willing to tell me how he did it, I can swear on my mother's grave that I won't hold you responsible for any of this. In fact..."

He glanced at the corpse at his feet.

"All of Dodge's businesses will be yours to manage from now on."