Chapter 118: Chapter 118 Beyond Ternel

Under such a system, everyone in the city, every faction, was like a carefully measured component in the grand machine of Ternell, ensuring nothing malfunctioned internally.

Julian's idea was straightforward: since breaking out of the higher ups' control from within was impossible, why not work within the system while finding an alternative path to carve out a different road?

As Julian continued, he proposed that the three parties should continue competing within Ternell according to the established rules. But beyond Ternell, they should join forces to seize wealth in more prosperous places.

Bootleg liquor was like an unconventional, tangible currency in circulation; anywhere, anytime, as long as you had a bottle of high proof smuggled liquor, you could easily trade it for cash. The moment those potent spirits were bottled, their market was guaranteed.

The three men discussed forming a new company solely for "external" trade, and Ernst and Carrell listened closely, agreeing with Julian's vision. Once their bootleg liquor spread across Kanros State, they would amass unimaginable wealth. Naturally, any gain comes with risks, which correlate directly with the rewards.

Local stakeholders would certainly dislike the introduction of new products disrupting their already stable market. This wasn't about a few coins—it was a commercial battle involving thousands. Under Julian's persuasion, both agreed to contribute funds and personnel as a guarantee for entering other markets.

But one issue remained unresolved: the distribution of shares.

Julian demanded at least 51% ownership in this trading company. He wasn't fixated on absolute control; this wasn't a legitimate business, and having the largest share could make him the most accountable if things went south. He based his demand on current market shares, as his product sold best and held the largest market share.

Carrell objected strongly to this. In Julian's proposal, Julian held 51%, Ernst took 30%, and Carrell was left with only 19%, which he found unacceptable. Why should he get the smallest share when they were all putting in equal effort?

Ernst, however, remained silent. He felt that earning 30% was already profitable, and his primary income didn't come from bootlegging. As mentioned before, no one is indifferent to wealth, including Ernst. While not his main income source, bootlegging was still lucrative. Therefore, he had no objections to a 30% share.

Carrell was the only dissatisfied one, perhaps not yet realizing that sometimes the strength of one's voice has little to do with physical size.

The intense discussion sparked Julian's hunger once more. After all, he was still a young man, in a growth phase. A single steak might be enough for an adult like Ernst or Carrell, but for a young man needing ample nutrition, it wasn't sufficient.

"Bring me another one, the same steak as before," Julian said, glancing at the waiter. His gaze faltered momentarily.

In the next instant, he grabbed the waiter's tie and yanked it down hard, slamming the waiter's head into the table, colliding with the plates that hadn't yet been cleared. A loud crash echoed, some shards cutting the waiter's cheek and leaving traces of blood on the table.

"I don't like the way you look at me," Julian said, picking up a fork and gripping it tightly. "I know what you're thinking, but I don't like your thoughts or your gaze. You should have hidden it better so I wouldn't notice, but you failed." The waiter trembled, keeping his mouth tightly shut.

Yes, it was the waiter's gaze that unnerved Julian. It was a look of disdain, a silent arrogance that made him feel judged.

He was looking down on Julian.

The contempt and scorn in his eyes were almost palpable. The first time, Julian chose to ignore it, as he was now a "man of importance," with no need to spar with a mere waiter over such matters. But a second offense would change things. Sёarᴄh the ηovёlFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Julian released his grip on the fork embedded in the waiter's shoulder, giving a slight nod. Dave stepped forward immediately. "Teach him how to be a decent, upright person," Julian instructed, taking a napkin to wipe away a few droplets of bright red blood, no longer sparing a glance at the waiter, whom Dave was now dragging by the hair out of sight.

He shrugged, spreading his hands. "Everyone's told me this place is excellent, but I think it falls short—they haven't yet learned what it means to be a proper waiter." In the corner, the waiter's pained cries and the sounds of blows rang out. "Now, back to our previous topic—the matter of share distribution…"

After a prolonged discussion, an agreement was finally reached.

Carrell stormed off, seething with his 23% share, while Ernst shook Julian's hand with a smile, inviting him to visit his home. Then he courteously took his share and left.

Watching them walk away, Julian's face finally broke into a broad grin. Hands in his pockets, he glanced back at the waiter lying on the floor, gasping, too weak to even cry out, and nodded approvingly.

"Give him some money for medical expenses. He's learned his lesson."

A boy, no older than fourteen or fifteen, wearing a flat cap, walked over, pulling about ten dollar from his pocket and scattering them over the waiter's bloodied face.

...

"Mayor, you must address this matter!" Ernst and Carrell sat in the mayor's office, pouring out their grievances.

The mayor, previously known as the Chief Administrator before the New Party's reforms, now held extensive authority. Apart from the military, nearly everything within Ternell City was within his purview, allowing him to have the final say on all major and minor affairs.

Peter Turner gazed calmly at Ernst and Carrell, showing no partiality. After listening to Carrell's complaints, he had pieced together the situation: Julian's bootleg liquor business was undercutting Carrell and Ernst's profits, driving them here for help. Far from sympathetic, Peter even felt a touch of satisfaction.

"Whenever people outside spoke of the 'Three Giants of High-Proof Alcohol' in Ternell, Peter felt no pride in controlling them—only concern."