“Nice outfit!” As soon as Alberto walked in, he commented on Lance’s clothing. “I like the style of this suit. You’ll have to introduce me to your tailor.”
He stepped away from his desk and shook Lance’s hand warmly. “Tailors in the Federation simply don’t know how to make a decent piece of clothing!”
Many people in the Federation disliked wearing tight clothing, which led to increasingly loose designs, especially for men. The tailors here seemed to fall into two extremes—either they strictly imitated their ancestors’ styles, with clothes so tight they left no room to breathe, or they made boxy, shapeless garments with no sense of structure.
Alberto wasn’t a native of the Federation, and he didn’t care for either of these styles.
After a bit of small talk, Lance sat down on the sofa.
“Have you been following the alcohol market lately?” Alberto asked, offering Lance a cigar. “This is a handcrafted cigar from Sumuli Island—I had it specially made.”
Lance took it, giving it a sniff. The aroma was rich, with a hint of sweetness.
Alberto pulled out his cigar accessories and began preparing one for Lance. His enthusiasm was evident.
Lance handed the cigar back to him, watching as Alberto cut and toasted it. “Is the alcohol market in Jingang City really doing that well right now?”
Alberto nodded. “Better than you’d imagine. And, you know, my boss—he’s a big shot—told me that the Prohibition Alliance is starting to gain significant political clout across the Federation.”
“Since the implementation of prohibition, production has increased, and crime rates have dropped in many areas. Congress is now planning to enforce a nationwide prohibition mandate.”
“This is part of a deal tied to the president’s reelection campaign.”
Previously, prohibition had been implemented only in specific regions on a voluntary basis. The Temperance Alliance, backed by certain factions of the church, politicians, and powerful figures, would form lobbying groups to persuade states to join the movement.
No one could be sure if this truly benefited urban development or social progress. But the results were undeniable—productivity was up, efficiency had increased, and crime rates had fallen.
Even the media in Jingang City were saying it:
“Our productivity is rising, our work efficiency is improving, and crime is decreasing. Why wouldn’t we support the full implementation of prohibition?!”
The Holy Federation is on the cusp of a prohibition-driven renaissance. Anyone opposing it is branded an enemy of the Federation!
When the president’s name came up, Lance felt a peculiar sense of irony.
Here they were, gnawing on beef that cost less than a dollar, yet fretting over matters of state.
“Let’s get back to Jingang City’s alcohol market,” Lance said, steering the conversation.
Alberto handed him the cigar, and Lance took a puff. Under Alberto’s expectant gaze, he nodded. “A very fine flavor.”
After a few seconds of silence, Lance couldn’t help but add, “You’re not expecting me to wax poetic about its bouquet and finish, are you?”
“Don’t put me on the spot like that!”
Alberto looked disappointed. “I thought you’d say something nice about it. Each of these costs more than a dollar fifty!”
Lance glanced at the cigar in his hand and took another puff. After savoring it for a moment, he remarked, “Now that you mention its price, I suddenly think it tastes even better!”
“Lance, you’re such a waste!” Alberto laughed and lit his own cigar. “The state prohibition mandate has just begun enforcement, and they’re clamping down hard. No external alcohol is getting through right now.”
“They’ve projected that this strict enforcement will last until at least January 1st. What happens afterward is anyone’s guess. For now, the only alcohol available in Jingang City is from existing stockpiles.”
“November, December—sixty-plus days. How much alcohol can this city consume in that time?”
“The Gold Label Napoleon Whiskey you’re holding is currently priced at about eleven dollars on the market.”
Forty thousand bottles of whiskey might sound like a lot from an individual’s perspective. But in a city with 1.1 million residents and a constant influx of people due to maritime trade, it’s a drop in the ocean.
City Hall had estimated the population at 1.25 million, including short-term residents and those planning to leave soon.
Illegal immigrants weren’t counted—they were officially nonexistent. If they were included, the number would rise to nearly 1.5 million.
With 1.5 million people, the demand for alcohol was staggering. Jingang City’s thriving economy meant that people weren’t poor, and the Federation’s citizens had a strong culture of alcohol consumption.
Lance hadn’t realized how quickly the value of his alcohol had skyrocketed. At eleven dollars a bottle, forty thousand bottles equated to over $460,000.
Businesses with zero production costs were always the most profitable. No wonder capitalists and political families who’d made their fortunes this way had passed laws to prevent others from following in their footsteps.
Alberto met Lance’s gaze and said, “Someone wants the alcohol you’re holding.”
Lance held the cigar between three fingers. “So, you told people I had a large stockpile of alcohol?”
His expression didn’t betray any emotion—no anger or displeasure, just the same calm demeanor as before. But Alberto knew that beneath the surface, it was far from calm.
He quickly shook his head to avoid any misunderstanding. “No one knows you have alcohol. A couple of days ago, during a family gathering, the big boss brought up the topic. I mentioned that I could source a batch of alcohol, and he was very interested.”
“The big boss?” Lance asked curiously. “I thought…” His expression turned to one of mock disappointment, as if he’d just discovered Alberto was merely a small fry.
Alberto couldn’t help but laugh. “Come on, this is the Federation, not our homeland.”
“Sumulians, Pattians, Grays, Reicheans—and you Imperial folks—plus countless others from around the world. The Federation is a complex place. Surely you know that.”
“If you paid any attention to the five major families of Jingang City, you’d know that one of them is the Sumulian family, the Pastoreto Family.”
“Paolo Pastoreto—he’s my boss.”
Lance said nothing, so Alberto continued. “Mr. Pastoreto is offering to buy all your Gold Label Napoleon Whiskey at eleven dollars per bottle. He can pay you in cash, bearer bonds, or other assets.”
“If you want to pay taxes, he can wire the money to you,” Alberto added with a laugh.
Even if the Investigation Bureau didn’t question how he came to possess such a large stockpile of alcohol, paying taxes on it would cost Lance half of his earnings.
The sheer amount of money caught Lance off guard. Previously, it was just alcohol, so he hadn’t thought about it. But if he wanted to liquidate it, he’d need a plan to manage the $460,000.
Should he stash it as dirty money in a vault, bury it underground, or launder it?
Money laundering wasn’t simple.
Although Lance believed laundering money in this era was relatively easy, doing so with such a large sum quickly would still be challenging.
Moreover, the Federation’s tax bureau would inevitably take notice.
The Investigation Bureau was less of a concern—everyone knew their director could be placated. But the tax bureau was a different story. They wanted money, and lots of it.
Alberto, noticing Lance deep in thought, offered two suggestions.
“If you want cash but also want to spend it, you could hire the Kodak Family to launder it for you—but their fees are steep.”
“If you’d rather avoid cash, bearer bonds are a solid choice.”
Lance ultimately decided on cash, planning to deal with the problem himself. “How will the transaction work?” he asked.
“If you want to handle it personally, I can introduce you to Mr. Pastoreto,” Alberto said. “If not, you can sell the alcohol to me, and I’ll pass it on to the family.”
Preferring not to meet the head of a major family over something so specific, Lance chose to sell the alcohol directly to Alberto for a total of $465,000, saving Alberto about a thousand dollars.
The cash was an astonishing amount—stacks of ten- and twenty-dollar bills bound with rubber bands. They filled two waterproof gasoline barrels to the brim.
Trusting Alberto and unwilling to count the money, Lance accepted it as is.
However, the barrels of cash soon presented another problem—how to store them. For now, he decided to take them home.
Buying a secure, reliable house became Lance’s top priority.
Alberto, now armed with a massive stockpile of premium alcohol, quickly reported his success to Mr. Pastoreto, who praised him lavishly.
A peculiar trend had emerged in Jingang City. Most alcohol hoarders focused on cheap and mid-range products, especially low-end whiskey and Copper Label Napoleon Whiskey.
In a way, their choices made sense. When alcohol prices skyrocketed, the average consumer could only afford low-end or inferior products.
Mid-range and premium alcohols, on the other hand, were far beyond their reach.
At underground bars, a single glass of Gold Label Napoleon Whiskey cost $1.35—and the bar barely broke even. Who could afford that?
As a result, the stockpiles of mid-range and high-end alcohol in Jingang City were surprisingly low…