The Mafia Empire
Chapter 41: Chapter 41 Responsibility

The judicial use of the black hood was rooted in an old belief from the Lord's Prayer—that a dying person's soul could latch onto the last face they saw, especially if that face fueled hatred. It was thought that such a lingering spirit could bring disease and misfortune to the living. Thus, during official executions, a hood prevented the soul from clinging to an innocent.

For gangs, the black hood represented a death devoid of dignity or honor. They valued personal honor more than people might expect, and an ignominious death was a great shame. Dying under a black hood—where you didn't even know who killed you—was perhaps the most dishonorable end.

Huen assumed these youths were under Morris's command, sent to capture him on his orders.

Julian shook his head with a smile. Perhaps this was the difference between people. If Morris had walked through the door, Huen would likely be groveling in terror, begging for forgiveness, aware of the danger Morris posed to him and his family. Yet Julian's presence seemed to reassure him. Did Huen see him as a kind man? or just someone easier to deal with?

Julian crouched, lighting a cigarette. He'd picked up smoking since arriving in the city, though he hadn't developed a strong habit yet. Partly influenced by Mr. Kesma and partly by his dreams, smoking had become a sort of ritual.

The cigarette glowed brightly as he took a drag, the smoke cycling through his lungs before he exhaled. Licking his dry lips, he spoke, "I don't like trouble." He smiled, examining the structure of Warehouse 10, adding, "Since I was young, I've hated trouble. I don't like causing it for others, nor do I like others bringing it to me."

"Mr. Huen, you've caused me quite a bit of trouble."

Huen's lips moved, and after a moment, he managed an apology. "I didn't want it this way, Mr. Julian, but if I didn't do it, Morris's men wouldn't let me go. I can't lose my wife and daughter. For their sake, I had to deceive Morris a little. I borrowed from relatives so I could pay him back!"

"No need to explain anything to me," Julian replied, shaking his head. "Morris has already gone to hell to atone, and soon, it will be your turn."

Julian rose to his feet, pacing a few steps as he continued. "Honestly, I'm still shocked to hear myself saying such things. But my previous hesitation and kindness cost me dearly and nearly put me in danger. So…" He gave a rueful smile. "I'm sorry, Mr. Huen.

As the president of the Fellowship association and an unlicensed bootlegger, I can't afford a second foolish mistake. If we meet again, it'll be in Heaven."

With that, Julian pressed his cigarette butt onto Huen's forehead, drawing a scream of pain. As he let go, Julian laughed. "Look at that, my soft heart is acting up again. You fraudsters aren't going to Heaven. Have a good joureny to Hell!"

Leaving the warehouse, Julian tilted his head as Dave approached him, awaiting instructions. After a few whispered words, Julian left. He had too much to do to linger here.

Not long after, Dave and some youths returned, carrying two wooden barrels. These large wine barrels could each hold at least 75 gallons—more than enough to contain a person. They entered the warehouse with the barrels, and Huen began to plead. "Please, let me see Mr. Julian. I didn't deceive him!

I really sold him the ranch. If anyone wants to trouble me, it should be Morris, not Mr. Julian!"

Dave responded by kicking Huen in the face. "Morris? He's already mingling with devils in Hell. If you're so eager to explain, go join him."

Huen collapsed, trembling and weak as he realized he had messed with people far more terrifying than Morris. At least Morris was only after money, but these people didn't even bother selling his wife and daughter—they were coming straight for their lives without any compromise.

Dave smiled as he stroked the little girl's head, his warm smile and handsome, well defined features almost soothing her terror.

"Afraid of the dark? Don't worry. Your mom will be right there with you. Just bear with it for a bit," he said before looking at Huen's wife. "My apologies, madam. I don't expect forgiveness, no matter the reason."

A stick landed on the back of the woman's head, and she slumped forward. The little girl, too, succumbed to the same fate. Perhaps, Julian had shown them his last act of mercy by sending them into unconsciousness.

"Put him in this barrel. Put them in the other. Then seal them with mud and dump them in Agate River."

As the youths worked together to carry out the task, Huen and his family were each placed in a barrel, thick mud poured over them, the lids fastened with rivets.

Perhaps no one would ever know that a fraudster lay hidden within these barrels.

After hours of transport, the barrels were dumped into a tributary of the Agate River, sinking into the depths with a splash, the weight preventing them from surfacing. Eventually, they might resurface, but not anytime soon.

With the matter settled, Dave returned to the ranch and briefed Julian on what had happened. Julian, seated on Huen's couch, waved him away. Left alone, he lit another cigarette, staring blankly ahead.

When had he become this ruthless? Why could he now so casually decide the fate of others, even take lives without hesitation? He searched his past and his dreams, lost in thought, until the cigarette burnt down to his fingers, jolting him back to reality.

Watching the butt roll on the floor, he chuckled bitterly. Perhaps it was his determination to avoid ending up like Huen—having his fate decided by someone else without his consent—that had led him to this state.

This wasn't mere cruelty; these actions were also part of his responsibility. Julian knew that behind him stood a dozen youths of the Fellowship Association, their fate resting solely on his decisions. He had been soft once before, a mistake that nearly dragged his followers into a gang war. Perhaps strength was the only path forward for him now.

He reminded himself, It's strength—a strength born of survival and the need to protect my interests.

Exhaling, he brushed the ashes from his lap, stood tall, and stepped outside, embracing the sunlight illuminating the world.