Chapter 44

Alberto looked at the confident, young Lans sitting across from him, and his previously agitated emotions gradually calmed.

He took out a cigarette and tossed it toward Lans. “There’s something been bothering me these past two days—you might not know yet, but our state is joining the Prohibition Alliance.”

Lans whistled. “Prohibition.”

Alberto nodded. “Yes. Prohibition.”

“I own several bars and nightclubs—places that require massive amounts of alcohol. If Jincheng bans alcohol, all these businesses will collapse!”

“Since my father’s time, we’ve been doing this—loan sharking, selling alcohol, prostitution—but now they’re slowly squeezing us out of our livelihood, Lans.”

“Last year they passed the Loan Shark Law; now they’re moving to ban the alcohol that brings us the highest profits. In a few days, they might outlaw prostitution entirely.”

“I heard someone’s pushing for a complete ban on vice transactions—it’s outright murder!”

“I’m like a man drowning—I can barely breathe!”

Lans watched his agitated demeanor and tried not to provoke him. “So you want me to find a way to stop the state from joining the Prohibition Alliance.”

Alberto’s expression turned utterly bewildered, as if he hadn’t understood a word Lans had said. “How… how could you even think that?”

Lans exhaled. “I almost thought you did—because you came to me asking for help with this problem.”

Alberto waved his hand. “I know exactly what you can and cannot do.”

“If one day you become Federal President, maybe you could solve this. But right now—you can’t.”

“I’m just venting. The real problem I need you to solve isn’t this.”

He pulled out a contract and handed it to Lans. “Someone’s defaulted again. Same terms—five percent.”

Lans glanced at the loan: one thousand dollars, borrowed for four months, repayment two thousand—truly squeezing blood from stone.

Lans wouldn’t handle this himself, but he could assign it to Elvin and the others—they couldn’t avoid experience; it didn’t fit the future he’d designed for them.

He agreed with Mr. Burton’s view: to receive returns, one must first give.

“I’ll handle it. Actually, I came here to talk about this—my company is registering, and barring any mishaps, it’ll be approved soon.”

Alberto perked up. “What kind of business?”

“Maybe we can collaborate.”

This was Lans’s real purpose: “Financial consulting. It’s already somewhat tied to your work—I’ll refer borrowers to you.”

“So you get a referral fee?” Alberto picked up a snack from the desk and popped it in his mouth. “Middlemen don’t make much. Better to work for me—I’ll pay you more.”

Lans declined again, but conceded his point about middlemen earning little: “Beyond referrals, I handle all the follow-up problems. You just sign the contract with the people I bring, hand them the money, and wait for repayment.”

“Problems like this default won’t trouble you—I’ll collect the principal and interest and bring them to you.”

Alberto pondered for a moment. “You want a cut of my profits.”

Lans picked up the contract. “Only for large deals. I’m not stopping you from doing your own business—my referrals are pure extra income. You don’t lose a thing!”

Alberto hesitated. “How much can you give me?”

“Fifteen to thirty percent monthly. No hassle—legal or otherwise—I’ll handle everything.”

Large loans had indeed become a headache for Alberto, especially since the Loan Shark Law made most financial firms extremely cautious with big-ticket lending.

Like Mr. Anderson—if his legal fees were less than what he owed Alberto, he could simply refuse to pay and sue instead.

With the Loan Shark Law on his side, he could walk away owing nothing, and after deducting lawyer and court costs, still come out ahead.

Even if they signed a contract, the contract itself was illegal and thus void—worse, it could serve as evidence of Alberto’s criminal activity.

Everyone knew large loans were the real money-makers, but now everyone hesitated; fewer financial firms dared lend freely. The market was huge, yet volume was shrinking.

“How do you plan to do it?” Alberto grew interested, but Lans didn’t tell him.

“It’s a business secret!” He paused, as if struck by an idea. “Actually, Mr. Corti, Prohibition is good for us.”

“Good?”

“You’re sure?”

Lans nodded firmly. “Because legal alcohol sales are declining, but demand won’t change. That means alcohol shifts from a buyer’s market to a seller’s market.”

“You won’t be pushing drinks on customers anymore—they’ll be asking, ‘What do you have?’ And you’ll make more than ever.”

Alberto listened, thoughtful. “You’ve got a sharp mind, Lans. So you’re saying I don’t need to do anything?”

“If you have money, stockpile alcohol—legal stuff—and wait for prices to skyrocket!”

Alberto took it in, analyzed it further, and grew convinced. He shouted loudly, “Fordis! Get in here now—I’ve got work for you…”

Minutes later, Lans and Fordis left the office. “I knew you could solve his problem.”

Lans shook his head, saying nothing.

On the way, he bought two copies of the state newspaper. It did mention the state church and rescue organizations lobbying the government to join the Prohibition Alliance. Though it didn’t reveal whether the government had decided, the article itself was a signal.

It gently warned the public: prepare mentally, because full prohibition might come soon.

With this transition, people would adapt quickly once prohibition actually began.

Back at his company, he handed Alberto’s contract directly to Elvin, then returned to his office. Soon after, the newly installed phone rang.

“Is this Mr. Lans?”

“This is the City Business Services Bureau. Your company registration has been approved. Could you come by?”

“Of course…”

How quickly—already approved? If anyone says the Federal government is inefficient, I’ll be the first to disagree.

Well, at least Jincheng’s efficiency is decent.

Collecting the registration documents wasn’t complicated—just confirm the company ID and tax ID. Nothing else required thought.

Patricia was working; Lans didn’t disturb her and left directly.

He still needed to train those brothers and sisters.

The whole afternoon was spent in training. Lans assigned them simple tasks: just go out, and they’d find orders.

And indeed they did. Just before quitting time, one of the young ones led a man in and knocked on the door.

“Boss, this… sir—he wants to borrow some money.”

“How much?” Lans pointed to the chair across the desk. The seemingly ordinary laborer sat down awkwardly. “I need… fifty dollars.”

“Do you have a job?”

The man nodded. “I work at the docks. I earn thirty-seven dollars a month.”

Lans thought for a moment. “Alright. I’ll give you fifty dollars, but you must give me two post-dated checks for thirty-seven dollars each—repay with two months’ wages. And you’ll sign this agreement.”

He scribbled a simple contract on the spot. He’d expected it would take days before business came knocking—he’d underestimated how desperate people were for consumption.

The contract stated: if in either of the next two months his wage fell below thirty-seven dollars, he would lend his work card to Lans for four months, free of charge.

The terms were brief, clear, and entirely legal.

The man glanced at the contract, signed without hesitation, and handed Lans two checks immediately.