“Chicago, you say?”
Petrucci muttered with a look of disbelief.
He carefully got up and peeked out through the bullet-riddled crack in the door.
The street had turned into a battlefield.
Three massive black Cadillacs circled the O’Donnell Family’s cars, unleashing a one-sided barrage of fire.
The muzzle flashes of the Thompson Submachine Guns tore through the darkness like lightning.
O’Donnell’s men desperately returned fire from behind their cars, but like candles in a hurricane, one by one, they were helplessly overwhelmed by the crushing difference in firepower.
“H-How… How did they get here so fast…”
Petrucci trailed off, unable to finish his sentence.
By train, the trip would take at least two full days, even at the fastest pace.
But they had arrived in just a few hours…
At that moment, the door of one black Cadillac swung open.
A young man stepped out.
He looked barely twenty, but there was a hardened confidence in his movements that belied his age.
Wearing a crisp black suit and fedora, he hefted a heavy Thompson Submachine Gun as if it were a toy.
It was Al Capone.
He strolled leisurely into the middle of the bullet-ridden street, as if out for a walk in the park, and calmly took aim at one of O’Donnell’s fleeing men.
Tatata!
A short burst.
The man collapsed without even a scream.
Capone’s expression didn’t change a bit.
He was as indifferent and unfeeling as someone squashing a bug.
“Patrick O’Donnell!”
Capone shouted in a booming voice.
His voice was young, but it echoed down the entire street with overwhelming force.
“For daring to lay hands on the old friend of Boss Johnny Torrio, you’ll pay the price!”
Patrick barely managed to poke his head out from behind a bullet-ridden car.
His red hair gleamed under the streetlights.
All the arrogance from just moments before was gone from his face, replaced by a stark, pale fear.
“Al Capone… Why are you here…?”
“The train was too slow for my taste,”
Capone replied with a wry smile.
“So I drove all night. Sixty miles an hour, nonstop.”
He pulled the trigger again.
Tatata-tata!
The windshield of the car Patrick was hiding behind shattered with a deafening crash.
“Surrender, Patrick. I’ll make it quick and painless.”
“Don’t be ridiculous! You guys might run Chicago, but this is Brooklyn! This is our turf!”
Patrick screamed desperately, returning fire.
But most of his men were already down—dead or wounded, groaning in pain.
Capone gave a small signal with his chin.
His men advanced as one.
Clad in perfectly tailored black suits, they moved like silent shadows of death.
Even amidst the chaos of the gunfight, their movements were astonishingly coordinated and efficient.
As if each had their assigned role, they swiftly subdued the remaining O’Donnell Family stragglers.
Inside the pharmacy, watching all this, Lee Jun-hyuk unconsciously swallowed dryly.
A shiver ran down his spine.
“This… This really is Al Capone…”
The living legend of the Prohibition Era, whom he’d only ever seen in books and movies in his past life.
He could feel Capone’s charisma and mercilessness with his whole being—even at this early stage of his career, he was already complete.
“I think… it’s safe to go out now.”
Petrucci exhaled in relief.
He lowered his pistol and slowly opened the door.
The wooden door, which had remained tightly shut through the horrific gunfight, creaked open with a groan.
As they stepped outside, the acrid smell of gunpowder hit their noses.
Spent shell casings littered the street, glinting under the lights, and shards of shattered glass crunched underfoot like gravel.
“Petrucci.”
Capone smiled as he saw him.
Up close, his face was even younger than expected.
But the long scar running down his left cheek wordlessly spoke of experience beyond his years.
“Al… thank you, really. How did you get here so quickly…?”
“As soon as Boss Torrio got the telegram, he ordered me: ‘Head out at once. Petrucci is my blood brother.’ That’s what he said.”
Capone’s gaze naturally shifted to Lee Jun-hyuk.
His eyes were piercingly sharp.
It was the look of a man intent on memorizing every detail from head to toe.
“So, this is the Asian businessman?”
“Yes. This is Mr. Lee Jun-hyuk.”
Lee Jun-hyuk stepped forward.
His legs trembled a bit, but he did his best to stand tall and confident.
“Thank you for your help.”
“I heard you helped Petrucci.”
Capone looked Lee Jun-hyuk up and down.
“An Asian meddling in Italian business… is that courage or just recklessness?”
His tone carried neither ridicule nor praise.
It was a simple, genuine comment on the strange situation before him.
“Mr. Petrucci helped my business. I believe repaying kindness is only right.”
“Kindness, huh…”
Capone gave a small chuckle.
But it was a cold smile.
“If you start worrying about sentimental things like kindness in this world, you’re the first to die. But…”
He stopped mid-sentence and nudged one of O’Donnell’s fallen men with his foot. A faint groan escaped, but Capone didn’t so much as blink.
“Having people like you around does make the world more interesting.”
Just then, one of Capone’s men approached and whispered something in his ear.
Capone’s expression turned cold.
“Patrick got away?”
“Yes, boss. He slipped out like a rat in the confusion.”
“Find him. Search Brooklyn inch by inch if you have to. Drag him back, skin him alive if you must.”
Capone’s voice turned ice-cold.
The relaxed air from before vanished, replaced by a killing intent as sharp as a blade.
“And the real culprit behind all this—Bancroft… Where is that bastard?”
Lee Jun-hyuk’s heart thudded in his chest.
That’s right.
Bancroft.
No doubt he was watching this entire massacre unfold from somewhere safe.
“He’s probably holed up in his mansion,” Petrucci spat, grinding his teeth.
“That coward never gets his hands dirty. He always hires others to do the filthy work for him with his money.”
Capone stroked his chin, as if deep in thought.
“A railroad tycoon, huh… If I mess with him directly, it’ll be a political headache. I hear he’s deeply connected with <(< Rangdo.”
“That’s right. And he’s got close ties with the corrupt politicians at New York City Hall, too,” Lee Jun-hyuk added.
Capone looked at Lee Jun-hyuk again.
This time, there was something different in his gaze.
A glimmer of genuine interest beyond mere curiosity.
“So, what would you do, then? When you’ve got an enemy you can’t kill with a gun?”
“Well…”
Lee Jun-hyuk hesitated for a moment.
But soon, with resolve, he spoke firmly.
“Legally, I’d destroy him completely. Take away what he treasures most.”
“What he treasures most.”
“Money. If I wipe out his Empire and fortune without leaving a speck of dust behind… that’ll hurt him more than death.”
The moment those words left his lips, Capone suddenly burst out laughing.
Truly entertained.
“Hahaha! I like that! Dollars hurt worse than bullets, that’s the truth.”
He gestured to his men.
“Bring the cars around. Let’s get back to our lodgings and rest.”
Then he turned to Lee Jun-hyuk.
“Oh, I heard you’re in the canned food business?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Any thought of expanding to Chicago? We could handle the distribution. There’s not much to sell here besides booze.”
For a moment, Lee Jun-hyuk couldn’t breathe.
Al Capone himself was proposing a business deal.
It was an offer he couldn’t refuse.
Quite literally—a matter of life and death.
“Expanding to Chicago…”
Lee Jun-hyuk paused.
Doing business with Al Capone.
It was like riding on the back of a tiger.
An enormous opportunity, but also a dangerous alliance that could turn on him at any moment.
“Alright. I’ll consider it seriously.”
“A wise choice.”
Capone nodded with satisfaction.
At that moment, one of his men came to report about the wounded.
“Is there a trustworthy doctor nearby?” Capone asked.
At this, Kim Young-soo stepped forward.
“There’s a Chinese doctor in Chinatown known for keeping his mouth shut. I can take you there.”
“Good. Let’s do that.”
Petrucci approached Capone.
His face was a mixture of gratitude and embarrassment.
“Al, really, thank you. How can I ever repay this kindness…”
“Kindness, huh.”
Capone waved his hand.
“It was Boss Torrio’s order, and besides…”
He patted Petrucci’s shoulder.
“When we were greenhorns in Brooklyn, you always looked after me like a brother. Just settling an old debt.”
Petrucci’s eyes grew moist.
It was a moment filled with the brotherly affection typical of Italian men—thicker than blood.
“But there’s one thing I want to ask,” Capone said, turning again to Lee Jun-hyuk.
“You said you’d destroy Bancroft legally. Do you have a concrete plan?”
Lee Jun-hyuk hesitated for a moment.
But Capone was already deeply involved. He was no longer just a helper—he could become a true partner.
“I’m thinking of using a Ponzi Scheme.”
“Ponzi, huh.”
Capone’s eyes lit up with interest.
“That Italian swindler from Boston? The one promising to double your money with postage stamps?”
“Yes. Bancroft is greedy and arrogant. If he sees me investing the money I made from Lajoie’s success into Ponzi, he’ll surely put in even more himself—out of rivalry with me and overconfidence in his own wealth.”
“Ho…”
Capone stroked his chin.
There was a look of admiration on his face.
“Letting the enemy’s greed bring about his own downfall… I really like it.”
He pulled a business card from his pocket and handed it to Lee Jun-hyuk.
It was an elegant ivory card with his name embossed in gold.
“If you ever come to Chicago, contact me. If it’s about taking Bancroft down with the Ponzi Scheme, I’d be glad to lend a hand.”
Lee Jun-hyuk took the card. It read: “Alphonse Capone – Import & Export (? A & 64007).” A humorous cover for the Prohibition Era.
“But let me give you one piece of advice,” Capone said, lowering his voice.
“Ponzi’s going down soon. It won’t last past this summer at the latest. You’d better move fast.”
Lee Jun-hyuk’s eyes widened.
That’s right. Historically, the Ponzi Scheme collapsed in August 1920.
Did Capone know that?
Or was it just a businessman’s intuition?
“Thank you for the advice.”
“Well then, we’ll be going.”
Capone waved to his men.
They moved swiftly to get in the cars.
The fallen O’Donnell men were left lying in the street.
No one expected the police to show up anyway.
That was Brooklyn at night.
Before getting into the car, Capone looked back at Lee Jun-hyuk one last time.
“Mr. Lee, you’re quite the unusual fellow. For an Asian to jump into this kind of mud pit on his own…”
“Sometimes, to survive, you have to roll around in the mud.”
“To survive…”
Capone smiled meaningfully.
“That’s what life’s all about. Good luck, Mr. Lee. Stay alive.”
The black Cadillacs roared off into the darkness.
The street fell silent again.
But it was an uneasy silence.
The scattered shell casings and bloodstains bore silent witness to the night’s carnage.
“What will you do now?” Petrucci asked.
His face was drawn with fatigue.
“We need to go back to the factory. The workers must be worried.”
“It could be dangerous. Bancroft…”
“I know. But I can’t run away now.”
There was steel in Lee Jun-hyuk’s voice.
“It’s my turn to move first.”
“You’re a hard man to understand. Oh, and given everything that’s happened, let’s just forget about what happened at the hospital.”
“Why are you bringing that up all of a sudden…?”
“I can’t hold a debt over the head of someone who risked his life to help me.”
“…You!”
When Lee Jun-hyuk returned to the factory, the workers greeted him with visible relief.
Yu Ilhan rushed over and grabbed his arm.
His hand was trembling.
– “Boss! Are you alright? We could hear the gunshots all the way here! I thought something terrible had happened…”
“It’s alright. Everyone’s safe.”
Lee Jun-hyuk looked around at his workers.
They had stayed at the factory all night to guard it.
They were loyal and grateful people.
“Everyone, go home and rest for today. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
“But, boss…”
“It’s alright. The worst is over.”
One by one, the workers went home.
Only Yu Ilhan remained.
He seemed to have something to say.
“What is it?”
“Actually… Robert came by earlier.”
“Robert?”
“Yes. He had urgent news. Apparently, in Boston, Charles Ponzi has started aggressively recruiting investors. There’s a big newspaper ad promising ‘a 50% profit in 45 days’.”
Lee Jun-hyuk’s lips curled up in a faint smile.
The Ponzi Scheme.
The most famous financial fraud in history.
And the perfect tool to bring down Bancroft.
The board was set.
“It’s time to head to Boston.”
“Boss?”
“It’s time to put an end to Bancroft.”
Dawn was breaking outside the window.
Brooklyn’s long, dark night was coming to an end.
But for Lee Jun-hyuk, a new battle was just beginning.
He took Capone’s business card from his pocket.
The gold-embossed name glimmered in the pale light.
“Al Capone…”
A strange fate he’d never have imagined in his previous life.
Joining hands with the underground emperor of Chicago.
But this dangerous alliance was necessary.
If he was to bring down the great evil called Bancroft, and protect his people and his business.
No—if only to have a shield, he had to keep this connection alive.
“Mr. Yu.”
“Yes, boss.”
Lee Jun-hyuk hesitated, then spoke.
“Remember when you mentioned there was a factory site for sale in Boston?”
“Yes, that’s right. There’s a place near the Boston harbor, perfect for a cannery…”
That’s right.
While searching for factory locations, Boston had been a candidate, but he’d decided Brooklyn was better for the first plant and passed on it.
Lee Jun-hyuk said,
“Good. Right now, spread a rumor that Lajoie is establishing a second factory in Boston. Make it as realistic and detailed as possible.”
“Huh? But we don’t have such plans…”
“We want Bancroft to hear it.”
Yu Ilhan’s eyes widened.
In an instant, he understood Lee Jun-hyuk’s intention.
“Bait…”
“Exactly. It’s a bait he absolutely can’t refuse—one that’s far too sweet.”
Lee Jun-hyuk looked out the window.
At last, the sun was rising. The red dawn painted Brooklyn’s old rooftops in vivid color.
The hour of revenge was approaching.