CHAPTER 57: CHAPTER 57: A PREDESTINED ENDING

Time.

3:03 PM.

An underground bar in the West District.

This place originally belonged to the Cabreya Clan, but later Palon handed over everything, and naturally, it became the property of the Bolita family with the contract.

However, the manager hasn’t changed; he’s still from the Cabreya Clan.

But compared to the ambitious Gary, the manager here, Scar Hunter, clearly is a fair-weather friend who settles for small fortunes.

He used to be overlooked under Joan’s leadership and doesn’t really care about moving to Ethan’s doorstep.

Loyalty is the least valuable thing in the black mire.

What’s more, amid the bootlegging craze, the Bolita Clan is truly the trendsetter.

By leveraging the extensive bootlegging network of the Bolita Clan, Scar Hunter has earned almost as much in the past month as he might have over the last two years.

That’s why he’s obsessed with Ethan.

Initially, he had a few complaints when he was annexed, but now he almost wishes he could go to the Bolita family manor to lick Ethan’s shoes.

Unfortunately, even such a chance hasn’t come his way.

So, he’s focusing on making money, while also networking to see if he can secure a spot at next month’s Bolita Clan meeting, even standing in a corner would do.

3:05 PM.

The underground bar isn’t at its prime time yet; people usually come in after work in the evening.

So Scar Hunter is drinking alone at the moment.

Snow’s about to fall, got to hurry up and get another batch of goods; cold will spur people’s need for booze.

Maybe it’s time to raise the price—perhaps double it.

As Scar Hunter pondered, a greedy glint appeared in his eyes; he was about to call a subordinate to open another bottle of wine.

The bar door suddenly swung open.

The sound of the doorbell caught Scar Hunter’s attention, he turned his head and saw a face that looked somewhat familiar.

What’s this fellow’s name again...

Barry?

"Hey..." He barely started to call out.

The man, possibly named Barry, had already drawn a gun from his trench coat and aimed it at him: "Hunter, Gary sends his regards!"

"Bang—"

The bullet instantly pierced through his forehead, followed by more intense gunfire erupting throughout the underground bar.

At the same moment, across the former Cabreya Clan territory, similar raids were being launched.

Perhaps tonight’s snow would be blood red.

————————

Time.

3:30 PM.

The scene of the banquet at Winster University.

It has been half an hour since Ethan entered the studio.

As people outside ate snacks, while chatting, they couldn’t help but glance towards the distant classroom by the sea.

Can that young man really pass Pupol’s test?

It seems unlikely.

Because Pupol’s question is simply too challenging.

Time.

What kind of subject is that?

But it’s typical of him.

He always leaves people guessing his answer.

"Dean, do you have any ideas?"

In one corner of the crowd, several professors from Winster University’s Arts Division gathered around El, quietly asking him.

El tried to maintain his expression, but the deep-seated bitterness couldn’t be concealed.

He was practically on the verge of tears.

Initially, he thought bringing in Ethan was a good move; he could use this Mafia scion’s wealth to elevate the Arts Division, and perhaps even eye the position of principal.

Yet...

The counterattack came so swiftly.

Ramon was indeed a tough opponent, a mere casual move and his path was essentially cut off.

Time...

What flower could be painted with time?

El wasn’t entirely clueless, his artistic prowess wasn’t bad, otherwise, he wouldn’t have become the dean of the Arts Division.

But he really had no clue.

As for Ethan?

Although the guy seemed to have talent and Professor Hughes from Kingdom Art Academy praised him to the sky, who knows if those were recommendations bought with money.

"Trust Ethan, he... is a genius."

Saying this aloud, El’s mind was already contemplating an escape; he absolutely didn’t want, nor could, resign—how could he salvage this?

Principal?

Loren was chatting and laughing with Pupol, seemingly unconcerned about this matter.

Ramon...

Ramon was already heading towards him.

"El, couldn’t find you anywhere, turns out you’re hiding here; are you already scared enough to run away?"

"Who’s running away? Ramon, watch your words, this isn’t your office." El forced himself to stay calm.

"Actually, El, if you’re really scared, just admit your mistake and beg me, maybe I’d consider sparing you."

Ramon walked close, speaking in a voice only they could hear.

Admit the mistake...

For a moment, El considered it, but seeing his subordinates beside him and the nearby elites and students, he couldn’t bring himself to swallow his pride.

Admitting the mistake, his reputation would be utterly tarnished, he could never raise his head in the school; how was that any different from resigning?

"Ethan will win, he’s a genius." He could only hold on, comforting himself with such words.

"A genius?" Ramon seemed to be savoring the word, then his gaze turned towards the distant studio.

No matter if he’s a genius or not, he’s bound to lose today.

Ramon recalled a late-night phone call from a few days ago.

"Is this Dean Ramon?"

"Who are you?"

"I’m Lewis, Dean Ramon, long time no see, haven’t spotted you at Little Boy Bar lately, been missing you quite a bit."

"I can’t understand what you’re saying..."

"Tsk tsk, Dean Ramon, seems like your memory’s failing you. Let me help you reminisce a bit, what’s the deceased little boy’s name again, Toby? Oh, his death was truly gruesome, that blood..."

"Enough, Lewis, if you plan on holding this over me forever, let me tell you it’s impossible, don’t push me..."

"I think you misunderstand, Dean. I’m here tonight to discuss a business deal with you."

"Business?"

"Hasn’t your school recently had a transfer student named Ethan Polleta?"

Indeed, this was quite a good business deal.

Through a student, he might achieve what he hadn’t managed to in a long time.

Actually, in this business deal, what he needed to do was simple: keep Ethan here today, at this time point, for two hours.

As for the other aspects, he wasn’t clear on the details.

But two hours later, regardless of whether Ethan produced a good piece, he’d be done for.

The work of a wicked criminal, no matter how good, what use is it?

Besides, he didn’t believe Ethan could create a masterpiece.

Time, what kind of nonsensical topic?

Artists are the most detestable entities in this world.

"Oh, Mr. Pupol, salutations, I really enjoy your work."

Watching Pupol approach gradually, Ramon raised the drink in his hand.