Empire of Shadows

“…Understood,” a voice muttered before placing the receiver back onto its base.  

A foreman exhaled a puff of smoke, his gaze sweeping over the now-empty warehouse. Hiram and his group had been dismissed—without a single cent of their wages, of course.  

This was standard practice for the company, saving them a considerable sum of money. Since the workers bore the brunt of the loss, there was no reason for anyone else to complain.  

Foreman A glanced at his companion. “Someone will be coming to take over later. When they get here, hand over the keys, and we’re done.”  

The other foreman didn’t say anything but couldn’t hide the glee on his face. Both men were thrilled. The job had been easy, but staying in the same place day after day, unable to leave, had worn on their patience.  

If not for Arthur’s notable status and the good pay, they would’ve left long ago.  

Now, finally, they could leave. They began whispering about where to unwind that evening. After all, the monotonous routine had nearly driven them mad.  

Suddenly, the torrential rain hit, just as the forecast predicted.  

The entire city seemed to be cloaked in a sheet of water, a misty veil that turned everything surreal.  

The rain pelted down like tiny stones striking metal roofs. Only the rare, determined traveler pressed on; everyone else sought refuge under eaves. Even the streets grew quieter, with fewer cars.  

Cars of this era, even luxury ones, weren’t well-sealed. Water seeping into the engine was no joke.  

Many vehicles were left parked by the roadside. Those with canvas tops fared even worse—soaked interiors and even puddles forming inside were common.  

Arthur cursed as he parked his car in the garage, just a step too slow to avoid rainwater flooding his vehicle. Fortunately, he had servants to deal with the mess, leaving him free to ponder whom he could hit up for money next.  

After all, October 25th was just over a week away.  

The downpour washed the world clean, the misty surroundings giving the city an ethereal quality. Amid this haze, several figures in heavy raincoats approached the warehouse.  

“They’ve seen me before,” Elvin whispered. “I’ll go in and get the door open. Once I signal, you move in.”  

The others nodded, standing a short distance away with weapons concealed, ready to act.  

Elvin banged on the door, the sound cutting through the rain’s relentless drumming on the rooftop.  

The two foremen exchanged gleeful glances before heading to the door.  

“Finally here, huh? You’re alone?” Foreman A greeted him warmly.  

Though his raincoat’s hood was up, the rain had left Elvin’s hair disheveled, partially obscuring his face.  

He paused briefly, quickly responding, “A few more are waiting outside. I saw you had the door locked.”  

“It’s pouring,” Foreman B explained, holding out the keys. “When you’re done, call your boss to confirm the handover. This place is yours now.”  

“Hopefully, your boss told you about this arrangement,” Foreman A added.  

Elvin wasn’t entirely sure what had transpired but sensed it was a stroke of luck. “Of course. He told us to call him after getting the keys.”  

He gestured toward the door. “Let me bring in the others.”  

The foremen had no objections. “They don’t have to stay out in the rain; let them come in.”  

The two began donning their raincoats, eager to leave. They were already discussing visiting the red-light district near the port. The storm meant there’d be plenty of choices.   ŘἁΝОꞖÊš

Lance entered and noticed the foremen changing clothes. Confused, he looked at Elvin, who subtly showed him the keys. Though unsure of the situation, Lance played along and moved toward the liquor stash.  

“I’ll check the stock.”  

Foreman A frowned at Lance’s presence. “Your friend isn’t very likable. There’s nothing wrong here!”  

Elvin smiled apologetically. “Sorry, he’s a bit paranoid.”  

The foremen shrugged it off. “You seem familiar… Have we met before?”  

Elvin’s quick wit shone through. “Have you ever been to the Red Romance Nightclub at the gate?”  

The two foremen exchanged lewd grins. “If it weren’t for this shift, we’d drag you along right now. Next time, we’ll set a date.”  

Elvin shook hands with both, promising, “Next time, for sure.”  

With a casual farewell, the foremen pulled up their hoods and disappeared into the rain-soaked mist.  

As soon as they were gone, Lance spun around. “Get the Howard brothers here now. We need to move the goods immediately!”  

Clearly, something had changed.  

Within two minutes, two large trucks—each with a 3.5-meter-long, 2.2-meter-wide cargo bed—pulled up. With their high side panels, they could carry up to 15 cubic meters of cargo.  

Workers quickly jumped from the trucks into the rain, using forklifts and other tools to load the liquor.  

The Howard brothers stood at the front, eyeing the goods.  

“How much do you think this haul is worth?”  

“At least 200 grand,” the younger Howard estimated, lighting a cigarette.  

They exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of greed, awe, and a touch of fear.  

Despite the rain, Hiram and the others worked swiftly, filling both trucks. There wasn’t time to secure the cargo against water damage, so the trucks immediately headed for Lance’s rented warehouse nearby.  

Port warehouses were ideal for such operations. In the heavy rain and fog, visibility dropped to less than 50 meters—perfect cover for smuggling.  

In less than ten minutes, the cargo was unloaded at the new location, and the workers returned for another trip.  

By the second round, only a couple of thousand bottles remained.  

Lance suspected they’d been mistaken for the next shift due to the torrential rain delaying the actual replacements.  

But the reprieve wouldn’t last.  

As the final bottles were being loaded, Morris, who was watching the road, noticed two pairs of headlights approaching through the rain. He tensed but observed the cars moving slowly—understandable, given the uneven, rain-soaked roads.  

He flashed a signal with his lantern.  

Lance, seeing the signal, shouted, “Stop! Drop everything! We’re leaving now!”  

In Lance’s operation, no one questioned his orders. Workers quickly scrambled onto the trucks, which drove off into the mist without turning on their lights.  

They didn’t go far, pulling off to the side and shutting off their engines to wait.  

Three minutes later, two sedans arrived at the warehouse. The drivers, somewhat relaxed, noticed the warehouse doors open and assumed it was welcoming them.  

But as they entered and saw the nearly empty warehouse, they erupted in anger.  

Meanwhile, the phone rang at Mr. Jobav’s home, waking him from his rest. Outside his window, the stormy sky loomed, casting the city into a premature night.

“…Understood,” a voice muttered before placing the receiver back onto its base.  

A foreman exhaled a puff of smoke, his gaze sweeping over the now-empty warehouse. Hiram and his group had been dismissed—without a single cent of their wages, of course.  

This was standard practice for the company, saving them a considerable sum of money. Since the workers bore the brunt of the loss, there was no reason for anyone else to complain.  

Foreman A glanced at his companion. “Someone will be coming to take over later. When they get here, hand over the keys, and we’re done.”  

The other foreman didn’t say anything but couldn’t hide the glee on his face. Both men were thrilled. The job had been easy, but staying in the same place day after day, unable to leave, had worn on their patience.  

If not for Arthur’s notable status and the good pay, they would’ve left long ago.  

Now, finally, they could leave. They began whispering about where to unwind that evening. After all, the monotonous routine had nearly driven them mad.  

Suddenly, the torrential rain hit, just as the forecast predicted.  

The entire city seemed to be cloaked in a sheet of water, a misty veil that turned everything surreal.  

The rain pelted down like tiny stones striking metal roofs. Only the rare, determined traveler pressed on; everyone else sought refuge under eaves. Even the streets grew quieter, with fewer cars.  

Cars of this era, even luxury ones, weren’t well-sealed. Water seeping into the engine was no joke.  

Many vehicles were left parked by the roadside. Those with canvas tops fared even worse—soaked interiors and even puddles forming inside were common.  

Arthur cursed as he parked his car in the garage, just a step too slow to avoid rainwater flooding his vehicle. Fortunately, he had servants to deal with the mess, leaving him free to ponder whom he could hit up for money next.  

After all, October 25th was just over a week away.  

The downpour washed the world clean, the misty surroundings giving the city an ethereal quality. Amid this haze, several figures in heavy raincoats approached the warehouse.  

“They’ve seen me before,” Elvin whispered. “I’ll go in and get the door open. Once I signal, you move in.”  

The others nodded, standing a short distance away with weapons concealed, ready to act.  

Elvin banged on the door, the sound cutting through the rain’s relentless drumming on the rooftop.  

The two foremen exchanged gleeful glances before heading to the door.  

“Finally here, huh? You’re alone?” Foreman A greeted him warmly.  

Though his raincoat’s hood was up, the rain had left Elvin’s hair disheveled, partially obscuring his face.  

He paused briefly, quickly responding, “A few more are waiting outside. I saw you had the door locked.”  

“It’s pouring,” Foreman B explained, holding out the keys. “When you’re done, call your boss to confirm the handover. This place is yours now.”  

“Hopefully, your boss told you about this arrangement,” Foreman A added.  

Elvin wasn’t entirely sure what had transpired but sensed it was a stroke of luck. “Of course. He told us to call him after getting the keys.”  

He gestured toward the door. “Let me bring in the others.”  

The foremen had no objections. “They don’t have to stay out in the rain; let them come in.”  

The two began donning their raincoats, eager to leave. They were already discussing visiting the red-light district near the port. The storm meant there’d be plenty of choices.   ŘἁΝОꞖÊš

Lance entered and noticed the foremen changing clothes. Confused, he looked at Elvin, who subtly showed him the keys. Though unsure of the situation, Lance played along and moved toward the liquor stash.  

“I’ll check the stock.”  

Foreman A frowned at Lance’s presence. “Your friend isn’t very likable. There’s nothing wrong here!”  

Elvin smiled apologetically. “Sorry, he’s a bit paranoid.”  

The foremen shrugged it off. “You seem familiar… Have we met before?”  

Elvin’s quick wit shone through. “Have you ever been to the Red Romance Nightclub at the gate?”  

The two foremen exchanged lewd grins. “If it weren’t for this shift, we’d drag you along right now. Next time, we’ll set a date.”  

Elvin shook hands with both, promising, “Next time, for sure.”  

With a casual farewell, the foremen pulled up their hoods and disappeared into the rain-soaked mist.  

As soon as they were gone, Lance spun around. “Get the Howard brothers here now. We need to move the goods immediately!”  

Clearly, something had changed.  

Within two minutes, two large trucks—each with a 3.5-meter-long, 2.2-meter-wide cargo bed—pulled up. With their high side panels, they could carry up to 15 cubic meters of cargo.  

Workers quickly jumped from the trucks into the rain, using forklifts and other tools to load the liquor.  

The Howard brothers stood at the front, eyeing the goods.  

“How much do you think this haul is worth?”  

“At least 200 grand,” the younger Howard estimated, lighting a cigarette.  

They exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of greed, awe, and a touch of fear.  

Despite the rain, Hiram and the others worked swiftly, filling both trucks. There wasn’t time to secure the cargo against water damage, so the trucks immediately headed for Lance’s rented warehouse nearby.  

Port warehouses were ideal for such operations. In the heavy rain and fog, visibility dropped to less than 50 meters—perfect cover for smuggling.  

In less than ten minutes, the cargo was unloaded at the new location, and the workers returned for another trip.  

By the second round, only a couple of thousand bottles remained.  

Lance suspected they’d been mistaken for the next shift due to the torrential rain delaying the actual replacements.  

But the reprieve wouldn’t last.  

As the final bottles were being loaded, Morris, who was watching the road, noticed two pairs of headlights approaching through the rain. He tensed but observed the cars moving slowly—understandable, given the uneven, rain-soaked roads.  

He flashed a signal with his lantern.  

Lance, seeing the signal, shouted, “Stop! Drop everything! We’re leaving now!”  

In Lance’s operation, no one questioned his orders. Workers quickly scrambled onto the trucks, which drove off into the mist without turning on their lights.  

They didn’t go far, pulling off to the side and shutting off their engines to wait.  

Three minutes later, two sedans arrived at the warehouse. The drivers, somewhat relaxed, noticed the warehouse doors open and assumed it was welcoming them.  

But as they entered and saw the nearly empty warehouse, they erupted in anger.  

Meanwhile, the phone rang at Mr. Jobav’s home, waking him from his rest. Outside his window, the stormy sky loomed, casting the city into a premature night.