The sound of the whistle startled Luen awake.
He was montarily disoriented, not knowing where he was.
In his view was an old-fashioned cabin, a slightly swaying chandelier, and through the slightly yellowed cabin glass, an endless sea. The wind howled over the sea, seeping in through unknown crevices, making it very cold.
He couldn’t help but shiver, and then his head began to ache.
Just last night, he had been at ho pulling an all-nighter playing the Claus card simulation ga ’True God’s Na.’ How did he end up here?
Rubbing his temples with his index finger, more unfamiliar mories began to surmount in his mind.
Ethan Polleta, a young man from the northern coastal city of Wenster, Antustat Kingdom, the third son of the Bolita Clan’s head—one of Wenster’s five major Mafia families. Nineteen years old, a sophomore studying classical painting at the Kingdom Art Academy, and one of the few in his family not involved in the family business.
As his father said, one of us must beco a good person.
At this mont, he should have been enjoying the autumn in the Royal Capital on the humid and warm east coast, preparing for the fall exams, but dire news forced him to embark on a journey back ho.
His father, Alberto Polleta, the head of the Bolita Clan, was severely injured in an attack days ago and was in critical condition. He had to return ho to stay by his father’s bedside, a family tradition.
So, is this a ti travel?
Luen pulled back his thoughts, looked at his hands, which were exquisitely delicate, almost like jade.
He then turned to observe his reflection in the windowpane. A prominent nose, deep blue eyes, and a sharp chin—a very handso face, almost delicate.
Now, it was his face.
Ethan Polleta.
"Ladies and gentlen, after a long journey, we have finally arrived. Welco back to the embrace of the land; Wenster has arrived! Let us praise the na of the Sea God, and look forward to our next encounter at sea!"
"Praise Isis!"
"Praise Isis!"
...
The chorus of voices interrupted Luen’s thoughts. At the cabin door, a middle-aged man dressed as a first mate spoke the above declaration-like words, then began making bizarre movents.
He spread his fingers wide, placing his hands before him, then quickly waggled them upward, mimicking so kind of wave or perhaps tangling strands of hair.
Everyone in the cabin followed suit without exception, and not wanting to stand out, Luen followed along, praising Isis.
The next mont, suddenly, he felt so sort of fluctuation; everything around him beca blurred, and an intense light erged before him. Sothing was writhing within the light, like a living organism or flowing rcury.
True God’s Na?!
Luen recalled that he had beaten the ga last night, reaching the final ending and obtaining the True God’s Na, seeing a scene just like this.
Could it be real, and it traveled here with him?
"Young Master Ethan, it’s ti to disembark. I believe your family is already waiting for you."
A voice pulled Luen back to reality once more, realizing that most of the people in the cabin had already left, leaving only the first mate standing in front of him.
He also rembered the man’s na, Carlos, a man who had once been helped by his family. This ti, it was thanks to him that he got the expedited ticket.
"Hmm." Luen—or rather, Ethan now—nodded, took a deep breath, and the intense light faded away, as if it had been an illusion. He could only start to feel his way around this new world.
"I heard about your father. I hope he will be alright. After all, he is such a generous and great man." A few steps away, Carlos spoke behind him.
"Thank you." Ethan didn’t look back and walked out of the cabin.
The air on the deck was exceptionally chilly. It was already afternoon, the sun hanging slantingly on the horizon, and, perhaps because of the ice floes out at sea, even the sunlight seed cold.
Ethan exhaled a breath of cold air, just reaching the ship’s rail when soone called out to him.
"Young Master Ethan, this way!"
It was a young girl, about seventeen or eighteen years old, with a stern expression, wearing a tightly-fitting black hunting suit, with a matching newsboy cap on her head. Long silver hair tied into a ponytail hung behind her, black leather gloves on her hands, and calfskin boots on her feet, looking extrely neat and tidy.
Anya, Ethan rembered she was the orphan adopted by his father, grood in various killing skills from a young age, ant to beco the sharpest blade assisting his elder brother.
Why was she the one to pick him up, where was his second uncle?
His uncle was typically the one to receive him.
Ethan crossed the gangway to the shore, and Anya had already turned and was walking towards the nearby car.
There, a pitch-black vintage car was parked.
Of course, vintage to Ethan, but in fact, this model was currently at the height of fashion; the pointed, bullet-like hood design was Klaus Company’s proudest creation this year.
Once in the car, Anya expertly drove away from the dock.
It wasn’t until they passed a parade-like crowd escorting a giant bottle model that Anya spoke again.
"Young Master, aside from your father, your entire family is dead."
"What did you say?"
Ethan frowned.
"Exactly what it sounds like." Anya paused, then continued, "Your father fell into a deep coma after being attacked. Your brother Leonardo took over the family soon after, and quickly identified the truth behind the assassination. The perpetrator was Joan, the newly risen leader of the Cabreya Clan. Two nights ago, your brother led the elite of the family on a full-scale revenge operation and was completely annihilated. Had I not been en route to Wenster that night, I would have died too."
Anya’s tone was indifferent, as if recounting soone else’s story. In the rearview mirror, Ethan saw her eyes—they were a deep green, like eralds.
For a mont of silence, Ethan almost wanted to say, can I just go back to the Royal Capital and never return?
Anya seed to read Ethan’s mind and spoke again: "You don’t need to worry about your safety. Just yesterday, your father awoke and invited Sandro from the Conte family to diate. Joan has already agreed to a ceasefire on the condition that the Bolita family completely withdraw from Wenster. Your return this ti is to handle the family’s aftermath since your father can no longer get out of bed."
The Conte family is the largest Mafia family in Wenster, and Sandro is revered as Wenster’s saint in the underworld, holding supre authority in Wenster’s underground world. No one dares oppose his words.
Searching through his mories, Ethan let out a slight sigh of relief.
But to ti travel into such a broken ho with devastation was unsettling indeed.
Especially since he had to handle it personally.
The car fell into prolonged silence.
Ethan couldn’t help but turn his gaze to the side.
A newspaper, blown in from sowhere, covered the dusty car window, the headline reading:
Kingdom Parliant has passed the latest legislation, and the Prohibition law will soon be enforced nationwide.
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