Although Julian was Heidler's first choice, he wasn't the only one. Heidler planned to et Julian but was also trying to contact other mbers of the community association. If anyone was willing to bow to reality for "ambition," Heidler wouldn't hesitate to extend a hand of friendship.
Another pressing issue was Dave.
Dave had a problem—not with loyalty or physical health, but with emotions. So fool once said, "The essence and only true love is in the exchange of bodily fluids." It seed that during his role-playing as Jon, Dave had developed inappropriate feelings for Mrs. Vivian. This was a serious problem.
For people in high society, chaotic personal lives weren't considered disgraceful, especially among the old party elites. Almost every notable figure had several semi-official lovers. In the past, under a feudal monarchy, the nobility was notorious for their chaotic personal lives, playing absurd gas for the thrill of ntal and physical pleasure.
But there was always a line: no emotional attachnt.
For example, when a married woman had several lovers, people might call her "flirtatious." But if she spent aningful ti with soone else beyond pleasure, she would be labeled a harlot.
During the age of feudal monarchy and divine law, all laws were crafted for the benefit of the ruling class. Whether or not to follow them was a different matter. The real problem here was that Dave seed to have fallen for Mrs. Vivian, and she seed to have fallen for him.
This was a ssy situation. Julian repeatedly questioned the plausibility of Mrs. Vivian—a woman who had seen and survived countless storms—falling for soone like Dave, who wasn't even of Ordinian heritage. Julian suspected Mrs. Vivian might have discovered sothing or that the relationship had transcended simple flirtation and evolved into sothing more profound.
But Dave claid that he could feel Mrs. Vivian's genuine affection in fleeting monts.
Two people who shouldn't have fallen in love had developed feelings, and Julian was the unlucky one caught in the middle.
The Mayor could tolerate his wife secretly eting other n, but emotional infidelity was another matter entirely. Both Dave and Julian were in deep trouble. Their opponent this ti was likely one of Ternell City's three major powers: the Mayor. However, there was a sliver of good news: Gador was now a thing of the past, and Wood had returned to the embrace of the Lord.
Carrell and Ernst were openly fighting with Julian, but the three of them had already ford a trading company and were secretly planning to expand their territory.
The only threats to Julian were a nearly defunct small gang and the "Flaming Skull" gang, led by Tiger, which ran a technical service center providing distinctive services mainly funded by human trafficking.
The latter was the real concern, but the Flaming Skull's combat strength wasn't impressive. Subduing young girls didn't require much force or courage, just a fierce appearance and a ruthless heart.
The Mayor's lack of reliable personnel gave Julian more ti to address the issue, but he needed to return as soon as possible.
After a family lunch, it was ti to say goodbye. Mr. Kesma, still impatient, left imdiately after eating. Mrs. Kesma, with tearful eyes, piled at onto Julian and Mason's plates, giving them heartfelt instructions.
When Julian and Mason were about to get into the car, Mr. Kesma smacked their shoulders hard, making them stumble backward. "Rember, you are Kesma's children. No matter the difficulties, never give up easily!"
"Get going, you brats!"
Mrs. Kesma's gaze couldn't hold back the forward montum of the rolling wheels, disappearing into the countryside's autumn scenery. Mason was extrely excited, continuously stroking the leather seats, though he felt a bit restrained, his eyes curiously taking in everything within reach.
"Is this your car? Must have cost quite a bit, huh?" Mason laughed awkwardly, wanting to raise a hand and pat the shoulder of his younger brother, with whom he had always shared a good relationship since childhood. But his hand stopped an inch away, unsure whether it was due to the unexplainable aura of authority around his brother or the pristine, expensive white suit he was wearing.
Julian casually shoved a pack of cigarettes into Mason's hand, grinning. "This car? I actually stole it. If it were up to , I'd find a truck far more useful than this fancy-looking sedan."
Mason took the cigarettes, withdrawing his arm, and stared wide-eyed at Julian, utterly incredulous. Did he really just say he stole this car? God Almighty, Mason couldn't believe his ears. He, the middle brother of the three—Mason, Julian, and their eldest sister—knew Julian's kind-hearted nature all too well. How could the Julian he knew commit such an act?
Julian noticed Mason's skeptical gaze but knew that explanations might be pointless. He simply shrugged, rolling down the car window. The countryside breeze was different from the city air, carrying a hint of sweetness mixed with the earthy sll of soil. Here, with fewer concrete roads and no steel jungles, the aroma of dirt and wildflowers dominated.
The cigarette Julian lit glowed brightly in the wind. He took a puff, then turned to Mason. "I get it. For the longest ti, we imagined big cities as heavenly places. But when you're actually in one, you gradually realize it's not heaven; it's the gateway to hell." He took another drag, the wind tousling his hair and making him look effortlessly carefree.
Mason, mimicking Julian, rolled down his own window and lit a cigarette, enviously observing how his brother, in just three months away from ho, had beco a completely different person.
With the cigarette between his fingers, Julian arrogantly yet casually pointed ahead. "In the city, money is everything. Every person is assigned a price, high or low, based on their status and background, but never on what they can actually do.
"The forr represents high society in people's eyes, while the latter…"
Julian sneered, wagging his finger. "People like us, my dear brother, are just low-class nobodies." He tilted his head, dodging the ash blown back by the wind, and continued, "So if you don't want to live underfoot, humiliated, what do you do? Of course, you fight for it with your life. At least in that regard, we're no different from the elites—we both only get one shot."
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