Chapter 161
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The girls of Aldera were fiery, and the cold weather couldn’t stop them from displaying their passion, from their intense, enthusiastic dancing to their yearning to stay, willing to give anything. To engage in an exchange of spirit and flesh with them, one only needed to take one more step, a tiny step, an almost tangible step!
Fortunately, Lance was a man of strong convictions, or perhaps, having seen and experienced much, these minor scenes, while somewhat tempting, seemed less important compared to the true purpose of their journey—the release of personal desires. He had chatted with a friend before, and he deeply agreed with that friend’s saying: one must know how to control one’s desires.
However, it was regrettable that this friend, surnamed Du, had departed a few steps ahead of him. Although their time together wasn’t long, he felt that friend was a man of great ideals. Idealists often get battered and bruised in the cruel reality of the world. If he could live again like himself, Lance hoped he would have a wonderful life. There was also a friend surnamed Lin, with whom he also got along well, but unfortunately, Lance left earlier, and he didn’t know what became of him.
In any case, if a person cannot control their most primal desires, then that person will eventually sink into the abyss of desire. It is worth noting that this control is not due to poverty. If you are poor and unable to find an environment to vent your desires, returning home to use a lubricant does not count as control.
The girls’ fiery dances were within arm’s reach. Through these passionate and enthusiastic dances, they created an impulse to join them. In fact, everyone, including Lance, knew that he only needed to reach out and touch one of these girls, and they would stay for the night, washing themselves thoroughly and allowing Lance to indulge for the entire evening.
But Lance did not reach out. He merely appreciated the entire welcoming ceremony from the perspective of appreciating ethnic dance, or so he told himself. Luigi watched them throughout the process, and even after the girls disappointedly withdrew, he did not see any of the three young men brought by Alberto keep any of the girls.
“Cultured and profound.” This was his assessment of Lance and the two fools accompanying him. He did not continue to probe and allowed the girls to leave. The girls’ disappointed gazes were incredibly disheartening, but compared to the little darlings about to fill his pockets, this temptation was still a little lacking.
“A wonderful performance,” he commented as a guest.
Luigi also smiled in response, “I’m glad you liked it. I also hope you’ll enjoy the upcoming feast.”
Large quantities of animals from Yalan’s primeval forests were dismembered into food pieces, and under the acrobatic cooking of the chefs, they were served one by one to the dining table. Giant forest anacondas, deep-pool giant crocodiles, Yalan’s unique forest leopards, all sorts of top predators from nature, were now laid out on the dining table. Perhaps to their death, they would not understand that humans ate them not because humans would die without eating them, but merely for prestige and their furs.
At the dinner table, Mr. Luigi was very talkative. He described everything that had happened since his family came here, depicting the united and courageous side of the Summurians. If they didn’t believe in God, perhaps halfway through his speech, everyone would have to bow together to truly enjoy it.
After the meal, they changed rooms, and everyone leaned freely on the sofas. Mr. Luigi looked at Alberto and Lance. “I thought you would have come last month.”
Alberto took out a cigarette and offered one to him. “Something unexpected happened last month, but I believe whether it’s a month earlier or a month later, it won’t change our business.”
Mr. Luigi didn’t ask what happened. He just turned to Lance, “I heard you want a batch of liquor?”
Lance nodded. “I need a large quantity of low to medium-grade alcohol, and a small quantity of high-grade alcohol. Fruit wine, beer, whiskey, brandy, red wine—any of them will do.”
“Large quantity?” Mr. Luigi first lit Alberto’s cigarette, then his own. He shook the match to extinguish the flame, and as he spoke, a puff of thick smoke came out of his mouth. “How large is ‘large’?”
“Two hundred thousand Federal Sol.”
Mr. Luigi’s small mustache twitched. It was indeed not a small sum.
He turned slightly and gestured to his confidant beside him. Soon, the confidant pushed a serving cart into the room from outside. The cart was filled with various alcoholic beverages, including beer.
“These are the types of alcohol I can offer you, but I strongly recommend you try this…”
He picked up a bottle and poured a small glass for Lance and Alberto. Lance looked at the colorless, transparent liquid in his glass, which gave off a strong alcoholic scent.
He took a small sip. It was spicy on the tongue, and the moment he swallowed it, he felt his entire esophagus burning! “Hoo!” He exhaled, as if the air itself were burning. He looked over at Alberto, whose face was red!
“What kind of alcohol is this?”
Mr. Luigi was satisfied with their reactions. “This is our local specialty, potato wine.”
“Its raw materials are readily available, and just one distillation can achieve a high alcohol content. The locals love this.”
“Just one small glass…” He gestured with his finger, smiling. “…is enough to make someone drunk.”
Lance handed his glass to Hiram. Hiram smelled it and then passed it to Lawn. Lawn, with a puzzled expression, took a sip, and his face quickly turned red too.
“It’s too strong!” Lance shook his head, but quickly smiled again. “I want this!”
Drunkards don’t care if your liquor is made from potatoes, tomatoes, or some other crop. They only care if the alcohol content is high enough to make them happy. Cheap, low-alcohol beer, or even non-alcoholic sparkling fruit juice, plus a small glass of this, can quickly turn it into a good remedy for alcoholics! If you calculate it as one bottle mixed with six bottles of juice, this potato wine is actually an excellent low-end product. Its raw materials dictate that it cannot have too high a price.
However, Alberto was not very interested in this wine. Mr. Pasoretto supplied the wealthy people of the Bay Area and some high-end establishments. Giving them wine made from potatoes would be an insult to their status.
Then they tasted some of the local specialties one by one. Mr. Luigi was very much looking forward to this business deal. Previously, Yalan’s alcoholic beverages could not enter the Federation market because federal capitalists collectively pushed for the passage of certain laws, such as protective tariffs or import bans. In addition, the localized production, storage, transportation, and terminal sales of federal wineries were more competitive, making it difficult for high, medium, and low-grade alcoholic beverages to enter the federal market.
But this time, the federal government issued a Prohibition order, directly paralyzing the federal wine industry. All the vineyards and wineries in Yalan were smiling so much they couldn’t close their mouths. If they knew how to write letters to thank the gentlemen in Congress, countless thank-you letters might have already been sent to Congress, thanking them for their contributions to the illicit alcohol business in the Yalan region.
If he could dump a large quantity of alcohol into the Federation through smuggling this time, opening up the federal illicit alcohol market, then he would gain more influence and social status locally. Earning money, raising his social status, and developing more potential customers—he already saw a golden path within reach!
Ultimately, Lance decided on three types of alcohol: roughly sixty-five proof potato wine, a beer, and a mixed fruit wine. This mixed fruit wine, with its distinct tropical jungle style, would surely appeal to some young customers, such as young boys and girls.
After deciding on the types of alcohol, the rest was a matter of price…
Just as Lance’s new business was about to set sail, Red High Heels also welcomed its new manager.
Ever since Liam died, the remaining Heller crew wanted to firmly control Red High Heels. It was their only channel to high society from the bottom rung. But this channel was not easy to manage. Before they could properly control it and turn it into their own resource, they were sent to God’s embrace by Lance.
After Lance refused to take over Red High Heels, the mayor arranged for a reliable subordinate to manage the place. It had been many days since it was operated or cleaned. When its doors were pushed open again, stale air mixed with a rotten smell rushed out of the room.
This made the new manager, standing at the door, unable to help but wave his hand in front of his nose and step back a few paces. He could smell that the odor came from the uncleaned trash cans, the kitchen, and some dressing rooms.
Saliva with a large number of bacteria mixed with mucus containing a large amount of glucose and protein, used to protect genetic fragments, was like a vivid biology lesson.
Moldy trash cans were found in every room of the club, along with piles of dirty clothes, once stained with sweat or even grease, that hadn’t been washed in time, becoming part of this biological evolution.
Rotten vegetable leaves, rotten steaks, rotten everything… gave the place an nauseating, moldy smell.
“Damn it!” The new manager was tall and thin, with a severely receding hairline that revealed a shiny forehead. His skin was pale, his eyebrows were groomed, and his light brown hair. He wore a greenish-white formal suit with a white fur coat over it. His rare white leather shoes made him look somewhat flashy. After the foul air dissipated, he strode into the place.
His name was Sam, not his real name, and he came from Estrella City, also known as Paradise City, one of the largest cities in the western Federation. This place was hailed as “paradise” fallen to earth because, in this modern metropolis, there were sources of happiness that could satisfy all human desires, provided, of course, that you had money or were willing to let loose, regardless of gender.
Sam had previously worked in a nightclub in Paradise City. He might have looked like a somewhat thin and balding federal man, but to his former employees, this man was a devil; he never did anything humane. Angel City, Paradise City—just by their nicknames for the city, you could tell how much they worshipped their noble belief in God. But strangely, in a Federation with such a strong religious atmosphere, few people actually acted humanely. It was a huge irony.
Perhaps faith not only solved their psychological guilt and fear but also helped them conceal their ugly true colors.
The mayor, through some connections, transferred Sam over to manage Red High Heels. The mayor’s ambition wasn’t just limited to Golden Port; now that the manager was a more reliable person, his sights were set on the entire state. The mayors of each region, city councilors, governors, state senators, house representatives, and various socialites… Just thinking about it, he felt it was great. Once he had most of them secured, then after he stepped down as mayor, two years as a House speaker, six years as a Senate speaker, and then he could run for governor. Only by being in the position of governor could he truly say he had entered the upper echelons of federal society. And Sam was his hope and possibility.
“Clean up these damned places. By tomorrow morning, I want to see this place spotless.”
He said, pointing to the dirty, dusty, and moldy areas. After a tour inside the Red High Heels club, he was dissatisfied. He directly told the mayor’s confidant, “This place has the decoration style of a small town. I’ll give you a designer’s business card.”
“If you just want it to be a place where men spend money for pleasure, then this decor is enough.”
“But if you want it to be more upscale, a place for upper-class gentlemen to release stress, then this place is still far from it.”
He walked around, looking at the people beside him. “What about the previous operators here?”
“And the girls?”
The mayor’s confidant briefly explained, and Sam raised his eyebrows after listening. “So now, besides this place and your support, I have nothing else?”
He walked back and forth a few steps. “Find a way to get those girls back, and then I’ll transfer a group of people here to get it running.”
“The old businesses can’t stop. They’ve already laid a good foundation. This way, as long as we maintain it, we can focus on external operations.”
“I’m not someone who likes to drag things out, so… it needs to be done quickly.”
Some “veterans” were more familiar with the work environment here and could get into work faster. In his opinion, those upper-class people with strange sexual fetishes were actually not difficult to deal with, as long as their small, ugly desires were satisfied. As for whether the girls would get hurt?
He had done similar work in Paradise City. Every year, he needed to buy at least two to three hundred disposable fragile items from human traffickers. The richer and more powerful a person was, the more twisted their psychology became, and the more perverse their desire to release stress. This was his summarized experience.
Small citizens, factory workers on assembly lines, they often get annoyed, so it’s simple for them to release stress: punch a wall, secretly curse the person who angered them, or if that doesn’t work, fantasize about cursing their family members, and the anger dissipates.
On the other hand, for those dignified upper-class individuals, the pressures and negative emotions that affect them are often those they cannot resist. Accustomed to a pampered life, it’s difficult for them to discharge the pressure and negative emotions they experience. It’s not as simple as punching a wall and cursing a few times; they are not so lenient with themselves, just as they are with their enemies. Their outbursts will be tyrannical; only through trampling on the dignity, or even the lives, of their fellow humans can their negative emotions be alleviated.
Previously, the Federation’s comedy king starred in a silent film called “The Emperor.” In this film, he played a famous dictator. There was a scene where, when he felt unhappy about a small matter, he directly pulled out a weapon from someone’s waist and killed a person who had been very loyal to him. Because his performance and the content of the performance were a mockery of dictators, people would laugh at the absurdity of the emperor he played, laughing heartily. But in reality, it was very frightening.
Only destruction could soothe the anger of important figures; he needed fragile items.
After giving his orders, Sam returned to his temporary villa. The mayor’s confidant relayed Sam’s requests to the mayor, and the mayor’s reply was “understood.” This answer actually meant “do as he says.” If he disagreed, he would reply with “I’ll consider it.”
The former manager of Red High Heels, Liam’s confidant, had already been arrested in a series of police actions and sent to prison. However, due to a phone call, he was released again and, in the shortest possible time, sent to Sam.
The former manager, who had undergone a series of torments in prison, was visibly gaunt and had become more cautious. He stood before Sam, his hands clutching the brim of his hat across his chest, his neck hunched, and his back stooped. Sam, holding a slender cigarette holder between his fingers, his pinky finger extended, scrutinized the former manager and asked, “Can you still find those girls?”
The former manager nodded repeatedly. “Yes, I know each of their information.”
Sam nodded approvingly, wiggling his foot towards him. “Find them back. If you do, you’re still the manager of Red High Heels.”
“If you can’t, then go back to where you came from. Have I made myself clear enough?”
The former manager quickly bowed. “Perfectly clear, Mr. Sam.”
“Then what are you waiting for?!” Sam immediately showed his harshness, and the former manager ran out as if startled.
Watching the manager’s wiggling backside as he ran, Sam suddenly displayed a meaningful smile. To succeed, one always had to pay a price.
