Chapter 81: Congratulations on Your Fortune

In the dimly lit bar, flickering lights occasionally illuminated patrons’ faces as several guests sat at the bar, gazing up at the small balcony-like table on the second floor.

“Has Jason gotten rich lately?”

One of the patrons at the bar asked softly.

The bar’s business was slow during the day, but there were still some customers—alcoholics didn’t care whether it was day or night.

They only cared whether the alcohol had reached their veins!

In the Federation, it wasn’t the first time people had drunk medical-grade alcohol, and some had even injected it directly into their veins.

Though the government had warned people countless times not to fucking do it, some still got a sudden idea and went ahead anyway.

These people were alcoholics; they didn’t spend much here, each visit costing roughly ten cents—a large beer mixed with half an ounce of whiskey.

After ensuring enough “quantity,” the alcohol content wasn’t too low, giving them a mild buzz.

They wanted to drink hard liquor, but they couldn’t afford it alone.

The bartender shook his head slightly. “I don’t know, but judging by his spending today, he’s definitely got money.”

A patron who knew Jason pulled off his dusty baseball cap and waved it. “Hey, Jason, over here! Buy us a round?”

Jason, still moved by the striper’s performance, glanced down at the bar—these were his usual friends.

“Of course… one Napo whiskey for each of them. My treat!”

The bartender skillfully pulled out a bottle of Napo whiskey and three glasses, lining them up in a row.

Here, each pour was about two ounces—no one measured precisely to the gram.

After doing it so often, the bartender could estimate the amount by feel alone.

One glass of Napo whiskey cost twenty-nine cents; one bottle could yield about eleven servings.

Technically, the labeled volume could fill twelve glasses, but… sometimes they poured a bit more. Alcoholics weren’t all fools—they could tell when they got less or more.

These cheap alcoholics loved to grab small advantages—or rather, the lower classes all were like this: they’d line up at five a.m. for a free fried chicken promotion, waiting until noon just to get one bite and feel like they’d scored a fortune.

But if they’d worked a few hours of odd jobs that morning, they’d have earned far more than the price of one fried chicken!

Yet they never thought that way, which is why they kept living like this.

Pouring a little extra deepened their loyalty to the bar—the owner and bartender weren’t fools.

The rich aroma of Napo whiskey spread as the liquid met the air, making the alcoholics’ saliva flow rapidly.

The man with the baseball cap raised his glass. “To our generous Mr. Jason!”

“To Jason!”

Jason laughed heartily and raised his glass. “Another round for them!”

After taking a sip, he turned his gaze back to the stripper in front of him.

Jin Gang City’s law forbade prostitution, but almost no one followed it—a bustling port city needed this to stay alive.

The woman before him was someone Jason had paid ten bucks to dance just for him. Watching her clothes fall away, watching her seductive movements, his blood boiled.

The five bucks in change he’d tossed onto the small stage hadn’t been picked up—instead, she danced harder.

After all, a good blowjob only earned five bucks, but now she got five bucks just by dancing—of course she wanted more, and danced even harder.

Jason unbuttoned his pants. “Come here. Ride me.”

The dancer shook her head—even that motion was seductive. “It’s not allowed here…”

She didn’t say it was impossible—just that it wasn’t allowed here. If they left, it’d be fine.

The owner didn’t want trouble, so they could leave the bar and go to the second floor across the street—there were rooms there.

Jason swallowed hard, his voice rasping from his throat. “How much to come with me?”

“Ten bucks.”

Three went to the bar owner, one to the bartender, one to the bouncer—she kept five.

Without the bar owner, there’d be no platform; streetwalkers outside charged five bucks, and some even did blowjobs for one—this was the difference between inside and outside.

Without the bartender, customers wouldn’t know if she was available—he wouldn’t recommend her to new patrons. Many newcomers didn’t know the place; they’d order a drink and ask who had the best skills.

Without the bouncer, if some drunk tried to harass or assault her, no one would protect her—so that dollar couldn’t be cut.

In reality, of the ten bucks she earned, she likely kept less than five—this line required investment to stay competitive.

Cosmetics, clothes, things like that.

She looked like she made the same as the cheap streetwalkers, but in truth, her earnings were several times—or even ten or twenty times—higher.

The clientele here was steady; if she kept three or five regulars, her monthly net income exceeded a hundred bucks—and most importantly, it was safe, guaranteed.

Jason fixed his pants, drained his glass. “I’ll wait for you across the street.”

The dancer gave him a knowing look, then bent over, kneeling on the small stage to pick up the money.

The angle was perfect—a pink spotlight lit her ass, making Jason’s legs tremble.

He couldn’t look anymore—these little sluts were too good!

He turned and headed downstairs. The bartender greeted him. “Jason, I didn’t know you were that fast. Always like this?”

The alcoholics burst into laughter. Jason cursed and grinned. “Got a sudden errand. You know.”

The bartender was pleased—he’d earned another dollar. In this damn world, who didn’t want more money in their pocket?

“So you’re here to settle up?”

“Yeah. How much?”

The bartender checked the bill: they’d drunk seven drinks total, and Jason had ordered a beef burger…

“Twelve dollars and fifty-three cents. I’ll charge you twelve.”

He’d already settled his change at the door, so no need to pay again.

He’d been upstairs less than twenty minutes; the bar’s rate was ten bucks for fifty minutes, so the discount was fair—only fifty minutes.

Besides, Jason clearly had money—he hoped this would bring him back often.

Jason pulled out a wad of cash—sixty or seventy bucks—counted out twenty, and laid it on the table.

As the bartender handed back change, he asked, “You got rich lately?”

Jason smiled but said nothing—this only stoked curiosity.

One of his usual drinking buddies asked, “Last month I thought you’d left town—you vanished. Did you go somewhere to strike it rich?”

“Jason, if you’ve got a good lead, take me along. I’ll give you half my earnings.”

Jason took the change the bartender offered. “There’s no guarantee such an opportunity exists—if making money were that easy, everyone’d be rich. But if something comes up, I’ll consider you first.”

He patted the man beside him. “After all, we’re good friends.”

After saying goodbye, they watched Jason walk away—his departure dampened their earlier warmth; someone even spat on the ground.

“Who does he think he is…”

Stepping out of the bar, the blazing sun hit him, and the hot, salty sea breeze blew in—his drunkenness faded slightly. He stood frozen, lost in thought, when suddenly a car pulled up beside him.

He glanced at it, froze for a second, then bolted.

He saw Hiram, Laun, and Morris behind the wheel.

They’d known each other before; last month, working together had improved their relationship.

Hiram looked like a dumb farm boy, but everyone who knew him knew his mind was sharp.

After working in the warehouse for half a month, Jason suspected Hiram wasn’t there just for the wages.

But no matter what—he knew he was in trouble now.

Hiram and Laun, who’d just stepped out of the car, sprinted after him; Morris gunned the engine and aimed straight for Jason.

The old car accelerated slowly, but it forced Jason into the alley.

The acceleration was slow, but once it built up speed, it wasn’t slow at all!

Just drunk and terrified now, his mind went blank—he ran blindly.

Minutes later, he collapsed against a high wall, gasping. “Hiram, Laun, let me go this once!”

“I’ll split the money with you!”

Hiram stepped forward and punched Jason hard in the face. “You fucking bastard, you think this is about money?”

Laun quickly joined in. They beat Jason badly and tied his hands and feet.

Laun went to find Morris; Hiram stayed, watching him.

“Hiram, for the sake of our time working together, let me go. I’ll vanish from Jin Gang City—you’ll never see me again!” Jason begged. “I only spent a few dollars…”

Hiram stared at him. “We just agreed to lie low. And you turn around and spend money like this? You’re trying to get us all killed!”

“Jason, don’t call yourself my friend—even if you were my own brother, I wouldn’t let you leave.”

Jason pleaded. “Let me go! I’ll give you all my money!”

Hiram remained unmoved.

Minutes later, the car pulled up at the alley’s mouth. Hiram grabbed Jason’s hair and dragged him.

At first he screamed, but after a few bricks slammed into his mouth, he fell silent.

The woman who’d left the bar now entered the room. She hadn’t seen Jason, but she was certain he wouldn’t stand her up.

To turn this into a long-term business, she’d designed a special look—she’d dressed herself like a gift, ready to surprise Jason.