The dimly lit bar was filled with an ambiguous glow, occasionally casting light on people’s faces. A few patrons seated at the counter glanced toward the small balcony-like private table on the second floor.
“Has Jason struck it rich recently?”
One of the patrons at the bar asked softly.
Business at the bar wasn’t particularly good during the day, though there were always a few customers. For drunks, drinking wasn’t bound by day or night—they only cared whether the alcohol was making its way into their veins.
There had been numerous incidents in the Federation of people drinking medical-grade alcohol or even injecting it directly into their veins. Despite the government repeatedly warning people not to pull this kind of stunt, some individuals, driven by sudden inspiration, still tried it.
These folks were hardcore drunks, and they didn’t spend much. Each visit usually amounted to about ten cents—a large mug of beer with half an ounce of whiskey added in. After ensuring the quantity was sufficient, the alcohol content wasn’t too low either, giving them just enough of a buzz.
Of course, they wanted to drink spirits, but they couldn’t afford to.
The bartender shook his head slightly. “No idea, but judging by his spending today, he definitely has some money.”
Someone who knew Jason waved his dusty, gray newsboy cap. “Hey, Jason! Over here! Treat us to a drink, won’t you?”
Jason, currently engrossed in the performance of a stripper, glanced toward the bar downstairs. These were his usual buddies.
“Of course… give each of them a Napper whiskey on me!”
The bartender deftly grabbed the bottle of Napper whiskey and lined up three glasses. Each glass contained about two ounces of whiskey—not precisely measured to the gram but roughly estimated from years of experience.
Each glass of Napper whiskey cost 29 cents. A single bottle could yield about 11 servings. Technically, it could pour 12 glasses as labeled, but occasionally the pours were a bit generous. Drunks weren’t fools—they could tell if they were being shorted.
These cheap drunks loved a bargain. They were the kind who would line up at 5 AM for a free piece of fried chicken from a promotion, considering it a great win by the time they snagged a bite at noon.
In reality, if they spent that morning doing odd jobs, they’d earn far more than the cost of a chicken leg. But they didn’t think that way, which was why they remained where they were.
Pouring slightly more than necessary helped build loyalty to the bar. The owner and the bartender weren’t stupid.
As the rich aroma of Napper whiskey wafted into the air, the drunks began salivating.
The newsboy cap-wearer raised his glass high. “To our generous Lord Jason!”
“To Jason!”
Jason laughed heartily and raised his glass. “Another round for them!”
After taking a sip of his drink, Jason turned his attention back to the stripper before him.
In Jingang City, the law prohibited soliciting services, but almost no one followed it. A bustling port city thrived on such activities to maintain its vibrancy.
The woman dancing before Jason had been hired for a private performance for 10 dollars. Watching her strip away each piece of clothing and teasing with enticing movements, Jason was already flush with excitement.
The five dollars in change he’d received earlier had already been tossed onto the small stage. The woman didn’t pick it up; instead, her movements became even more seductive.
For her, five dollars was significant. A casual “job” might only earn her the same amount. But here, she was merely dancing, earning it with far less effort. Naturally, she worked harder to keep Jason entertained.
Jason unbuttoned his pants and beckoned her. “Come here. Ride me.”
The dancer shook her head, the gesture itself seductive. “Not here…”
She didn’t outright refuse but hinted that it wasn’t allowed in the bar. Outside, across the street on the second floor, there were private rooms available.
Jason swallowed hard, his voice rasping. “How much for you to come with me?”
“Ten dollars.”
Of that, three dollars would go to the bar owner, one to the bartender, and one to the security guard. She would keep the remaining five.
Jason, restraining himself, finished his drink in one gulp. “I’ll wait for you across the street.”
The dancer gave him a knowing look before provocatively kneeling on the small stage to collect the money. The angle, illuminated by a pink spotlight, left Jason nearly trembling.
Unable to handle it any longer, Jason quickly descended the stairs.
The bartender greeted him. “Jason, I didn’t know you were always this quick. Is it a habit?”
The drunks around them burst into laughter. Jason playfully cursed, “I have some business to take care of. You know how it is.”
The bartender was thrilled. It had been a lucrative day; another dollar had been added to his income.
“So, here to settle up?”
“Yeah. How much?”
The bartender tallied up the bill: seven drinks, one beef burger…
“12 dollars and 53 cents. Let’s make it 12 even.”
Jason handed over 20 dollars and waited for his change.
“You struck it rich, didn’t you?” The bartender prodded as he counted out the change.
Jason smiled without responding, piquing the curiosity of the others.
One of his drinking buddies chimed in. “Last month, I thought you’d skipped town—you disappeared. Were you off making money during that time?”
“If you have a good opportunity, bring me along next time. I’ll give you half my earnings, guaranteed.”
Jason pocketed the change. “It’s not that easy to get rich. If it were, everyone would be millionaires. But if I get the chance, I’ll think of you first.”
As Jason left, his buddies’ expressions grew less enthusiastic. Someone even spat on the ground.
“Rich bastard…”
Outside, the scorching sun and salty ocean breeze sobered Jason up slightly. He stood dazed, lost in thought, when suddenly a car screeched to a halt in front of him.
A quick glance at the occupants—Hiram, Loren, and Morris driving—caused Jason to freeze for a second before bolting.
Hiram and Loren immediately gave chase while Morris revved the engine, steering the old car toward Jason.
The vehicle’s slow acceleration allowed Jason to duck into an alley, but once the car gained speed, it became a real threat.
Heart pounding and legs burning from exertion, Jason eventually found himself cornered against a high wall. Panting heavily, he pleaded, “Hiram, Loren, let me go just this once. I’ll split the money with you!”
Hiram strode forward and landed a heavy punch on Jason’s face. “You son of a bh! Do you think this is about the money?”
Loren joined in, and the two beat Jason senseless before binding his hands and feet.
Minutes later, Morris arrived with the car. Hiram dragged Jason to the alley entrance, ignoring his muffled screams after silencing him with a few hits to the mouth.
Back in the bar, the dancer waited patiently in a room upstairs. Although Jason hadn’t shown up yet, she believed he wouldn’t stand her up.
To secure this deal as a recurring arrangement, she had dressed herself like a little gift, ready to surprise Jason.