My Second Life as a Mafia Tyrant

Chapter 6 : The End of the Funeral

The funeral felt stifling.

Everyone had come to size up Alois.

To see if he was fit to be the next boss of the Wolf Cartel.

Alois is an ordinary young man.

　He works out. His hobby is running, and he used to go to the gym. He figures he’s built up some muscle. Of course, he’s nowhere near as muscular as the men who guard the drug cartel bosses.

But he doesn’t have any tattoos, and he doesn’t deck himself out in the tacky gold jewelry that drug cartel bosses love. Those guys even wear that stuff to funerals. It’s just in bad taste.

　Alois doesn’t grow a beard either. The drug cartel bosses grow beards. They say it makes them look sexier. It just makes them look grimy.

From his appearance, Alois probably doesn’t look like someone involved in the drug business. In fact, Alois isn’t involved in the drug business yet.

But assuming he does get involved in the drug business, how would people see him?

　A naive rich kid? A weak, unmanly man? A complete amateur who doesn’t even know how to shoot a gun?

Let them think whatever they want. Alois intends to seize wealth and violence, and from there, the power that comes with them. Absolute power. Power to protect himself. To that end, he has no intention of being choosy about his methods.

　People will die. Not just those directly involved in the drug trade—people will die from the drugs he handles as well. And Alois will be held accountable for those deaths.

But this is the only way to protect himself.

At least for now. If he doesn’t seize power, he’ll be devoured. Alois is a man thrown into a shark tank. If he shows even the slightest weakness, he’ll be torn to pieces. Even the drug cartel executives who are being so friendly right now—you never know how they might turn on him.

The one silver lining is that Alois has memories of his first life.

So far, everything is going exactly as he remembers. The only exception is that he was able to talk to his mother.

Learning from the failures of his first life, he’s determined to survive this second one.

“Young Master Alois. I hear you’re helping the boss with his work?”

“Yes. That is the plan.”

When Werner, the boss of the Kuste Cartel, spoke to him, Alois replied politely. It’s in his best interest to keep a low profile for now. He shouldn’t provoke a drug dealer unnecessarily—especially one who holds power.

　That said, the Kuste Cartel is an organization under the Wolf Cartel. They probably won’t make any rash moves right now. If they foolishly provoked the Wolf Cartel and had their independence crushed, they’d be the ones in trouble.

Werner was biding his time. Waiting for the opportunity for the Kuste Cartel to become fully independent. And Alois intended to readily grant that independence.

　It was a lesson learned from his first life. In his first life, unnecessary blood was shed over the Kuste Cartel’s independence. He wanted to avoid that this time. If a conflict broke out, it would draw the attention of the Drug Enforcement Administration. It would draw the attention of that Felix Faust.

“The drug business isn’t an easy one, you know?”

“I’ll do my best.”

　“Ah. Don’t worry. I’ve got ten years of experience.”

Besides, I know full well that a sacrificial lamb is needed. And I know that the more sacrificial lambs there are, the more satisfied the sadist known as God will be.

“Werner. Already trying to curry favor?”

“That’s not my intention. I’m just thinking that maybe the drug business isn’t right for him.”

　Next up is Dominic from the Schwarz Cartel.

Dominic was the sacrificial lamb in my first life.

Heinrich intentionally cornered the Schwarz Cartel to show the Drug Enforcement Administration the results of their investigation and to demonstrate that the “Federation’s” drug business had suffered a devastating blow—which, of course, was a complete lie.

　Police and military personnel bribed by the Wolf Cartel hunted down Dominic and his crew, and Dominic was ultimately killed. A photo of his corpse graced the front page of the newspaper, accompanied by the headline: “Drug Kingpin Finally Dead.” At that moment, the real drug kingpin was probably laughing his head off.

　Alois also intends to use the Schwarz Cartel as a scapegoat, but things won’t go exactly according to Heinrich’s schedule. He can’t afford to have the Schwarz Cartel wiped out too soon. Unlike Heinrich, who is about to die, Alois has a long life ahead of him that he must live.

“So, Alois. Do you think you’re cut out for this?”

“I can’t say until I try. Well, I’ll do my best.”

Am I cut out for this? No, I’m not. I want to send all of you straight to hell, and then live a decent life, free from drugs.

　But because of you lot, whether I’m cut out for it or not, I have no choice but to be involved in this business. Go to hell, Alois thought.

But to talk openly about the drug business at a gathering meant to reminisce about the deceased? As a federal prosecutor, Heinrich knows the status of the investigation into me. The mansion probably isn’t bugged. But that’s not the point. Now is the time to say goodbye to the dead. Don’t talk about fucking drugs. Even as he thought this, Alois averted his gaze from the drug cartel bigwigs and kept staring at the coffin.

His mother was dead. For Alois, it was her second death.

Why does he have to go through this twice? Alois wondered. Once is more than enough. Both his mother’s death and the sickening conversations with the drug cartel members who trampled on her memory.

Alois simply endured it all. “I’ll do my best,” “I’ll do what I can,” “I’ll do what’s within my power”—that’s what he’d told the drug cartel executives. For now, it was enough to let them believe that. He would flex his power once he had money and violence at his disposal.

　At the gathering on the first day to share memories of the deceased, the only ones actually speaking about their memories were the residents of Neue Netesheim. Listening to their stories about how his mother had looked after them was just what Alois needed to soothe his frayed nerves.

　My mother left behind an estate for the prosperity of the village of Neue Netesheim.

My mother’s body was cremated the next day, and the family carried her ashes. Though I say “family,” it was only Heinrich and Alois. The others are not family. They may act like family, but the only ones with a blood relationship are Heinrich and Alois.

We placed the ashes in a box and carried them to open the ancestral grave.

　The priest recited a prayer. Something about the deceased being called to God, and so on and so forth.

Alois wondered if God even existed. Alois used to believe in God, too. But eventually, he stopped believing. This world is so cruel, so cold-hearted, and so barbaric that it makes one doubt God’s existence.

Even so, if God did exist, he hoped He would welcome his mother into heaven.