In a downtown district filled with the mingled scent of smoke drifting from the industrial district that lay quite far away, and uneven mud churned by the countless horse-drawn carriages that never ceased passing through, stood the district known as Ironreach, a place where many things converged.
Valberry Street was one of the longest and most well-known roads in Ironreach, stretching out like a carpet with streams of pedestrians constantly walking across it.
Along that street stood a building bearing the sign Sorapine's Restaurant. Its glass front allowed a clear view inside, revealing many patrons seated at their tables, enjoying the dishes set before them.
At one of the round tables inside the Thalessian-style restaurant sat two men with an age gap of at least twenty years. Not only did their ages seem sharply contrasted, but their appearances were equally distant from one another. The older man wore fairly neat attire, a bow tie resting against his chest and a bowler hat perched upon his head. In contrast, the younger man wore simple clothing, his flat cap no longer on his head but placed on the table beside a plate holding a dish prepared with cheese.
The older man appeared preoccupied with eating a noodle dish topped with sauce from his plate, while the younger man simply sat upright and calm, doing nothing at all.
With his right eyelid only half open, Nucky observed the middle-aged man sitting across from him.
As the middle-aged man finally paused his meal and reached into his suit pocket to retrieve a handkerchief, gently dabbing his mouth with it, Nucky at the same time reached into his own jacket and pulled out what appeared to be a bundle of rolled money. He then slid the money across the table toward the older man.
"This is our week for you, Evan," said Nucky after he's slide the money.
Nucky tried to maintain his composure toward the man in front of him, because the man who appeared harmless was precisely someone Nucky could not afford to overstep. With this man's presence, Nucky and his gang were able to operate.
The influential man's name was Vangelis Papanikos, though people around him preferred to call him Evan, which Evan himself did not mind.
Evan placed his handkerchief on the table, then reached for the money lying there. He removed the string that kept the bills rolled together. Once the money was spread out, Evan began counting the stack carefully, his thick mustache occasionally twitching as he went through the bills.
When the last bill had been counted, Evan paused for a moment while still looking at the money in his hand, then decided to count it a second time.
Evan shifted his gaze toward Nucky. "Normally, the numbers are already correct, Nucky. But what about the Lawrence collection?"
Nucky had already expected Evan to bring that up. Basically, what he meant was the debt owed by that married couple, but they had chosen to take their own lives instead.
The couple had not actually owed money to Evan, but rather to another man named Lawrence, whose position was at least on par with Evan's. Lawrence himself was currently preoccupied with fighting a case in court, so he had asked Evan for assistance.
Drawing in a breath, Nucky began to speak, explaining what had truly happened regarding the matter. He laid it out carefully, keeping everything factual and as accurate as possible, leaving nothing out and exaggerating nothing. Nucky understood that surviving in this world depended on maintaining trust.
Evan simply listened with his eyes closed, occasionally taking a sip from the cup of black coffee that had been served. He was judging every word that came out of Nucky's mouth.
"Well, that's it," Nucky concluded once he felt he had said enough, not forgetting to take a drink of water.
"So there really are no relatives, huh?" Evan asked to make sure. "You investigated it thoroughly?"
"I'm sure. I already looked into it. The couple immigrated on their own, and the wife gave birth to the child here."
"Poor girl, starting life all alone," Evan said while stroking his thick mustache. "It makes me nostalgic. Back in Korena, my parents were killed by a rival family during the Korena-Demeria war, leaving me alone when I was still eight years old."
This was not the first time Nucky had heard Evan's past. He often told that story, along with tales about the war between the families of Korena and Demeria.
Nucky sometimes doubted the authenticity of those stories, particularly the part where Evan claimed he had taken part in the conflict at the age of ten after his parents' death. There were often inconsistencies compared to his previous accounts. Still, the ending always remained the same. He would say that he eventually found his parents' killer and killed him when he was only twelve years old.
"Well, let it be. This is all part of the business. Lawrence will surely understand, especially with his hands already tied up in legal matters," Evan explained as he resumed eating his noodles. "And as for the girl, just leave her be. But you should go to her house and see if there's anything that can be sold."
Evan rolled the money back into a tight bundle after finishing the count, then slipped it into the inner pocket of his suit. He took one last sip of his black coffee before setting the cup down gently on the table.
"Before you take care of that couple's house," he said calmly, "there's one more thing."
Nucky did not respond right away. He simply just waiting.
Evan leaned back in his chair, his thick mustache shifting slightly as a faint smile formed on his lips. "Lawrence has another problem. One that cannot be brought to court."
He leaned forward a little.
"And this time, I want you to handle it."
* * *
"Don't forget to take the merchandise."
Those were the last words Evan said to Nucky before finally leaving the restaurant he's visit before.
An important task had been entrusted to him, and the only thing occupying his mind now was completing it as flawlessly as possible, without leaving even the slightest imperfection.
Slipping both hands into his worn jacket, Nucky walked along the edge of the street, carefully avoiding bumping into the pedestrians around him.
He had already walked several hundred meters from the restaurant. This area marked the northernmost part of the Ironreach district, and if he continued farther north, he would eventually return to the Dronxe district, where he lived.
But not now.
He stopped in front of a confectionery shop, several discount posters plastered across its front window. Even so, he had not paused there to buy sweets. Instead, he was observing the entrance of a clothing store nearby that was still open for business.
Standing beside a gas lamp post that had not yet been scheduled to be lit, he kept both hands tucked inside his jacket, trying to endure the cold air by shifting his body slightly from time to time.
"Ow!"
Suddenly, the sound of something falling rang out behind Nucky. Curious, he turned his head quickly to see what had happened.
Behind him, a little girl of about six years old was kneeling on the ground. Her right hand clutched her slightly reddened knee, while her left still gripped a piece of candy tightly, as if she refused to lose it. Her face was twisted in a grimace, her eyes struggling to hold back tears.
Nucky, after taking in the scene, instinctively moved as if to help her. But he stopped himself when he noticed a young boy rushing up to the girl.
"Duzghe via no!?" The boy shouted.
The moment Nucky heard it, he immediately recognized the Thalessian language. It meant, "Are you alright!?" From that alone, Nucky realized the two children were most likely fresh off the boat, only able to speak Thalessian. He had once been in the same position himself.
"Via no, via no! Zeci ra hart!" the girl replied in Thalessian as well, saying that she was fine, but that it really hurt.
The little boy tried to help the girl without hesitation, and she immediately accepted his small hand, using it as support to rise from the ground.
Soon, the two children walked off together, the boy offering his shoulder so the girl could move forward slowly through the busy flow of pedestrians. Nucky remained standing still, watching their small backs grow more distant before gradually dissolving into the crowd.
As the space between them widened, something he had long suppressed began to surface once more. That small voice, the way the girl held back her tears, the way her hand clutched the candy as if it were the last treasure she possessed in the world, slowly pulled at the deepest and darkest corner of his memory, a place he had buried long ago.
The incessant coughing with small eyes staring at him as if asking for a promise he could not keep, the smell of medicine, wet cloths, and narrow corridors filled with panicked whispers flashed through his mind for a seconds.
Clink.
The sound of the doorbell was sharp enough to snap Nucky out of his worst memories. He blinked hard, as if forcing himself back into focus and reminding himself of his purpose.
He shifted his gaze back toward the clothing store he had been watching. His eyes settled on a well-dressed man stepping out of the shop, a silk hat resting neatly on his head and a work briefcase hanging from his hand.
After observing the man's appearance for a moment, Nucky became certain that this was the person he had been assigned to deal with.
The man paused briefly in front of the shop, checking his pocket watch before slipping it back into his coat. Moments later, he turned around, presenting his back to Nucky.
As the man began to walk, Nucky decided to follow. Carefully, he blended into the flow of pedestrians, making sure not to draw attention to himself.
His mission was simple. Do not let the man in the silk hat reach the station. Worse still, do not allow him to board the steam train bound for the southern city, where Lawrence's trial was taking place. With that in mind, Nucky forced himself to stay locked onto the man, determined not to lose sight of him.
Maintaining his vigilance, Nucky subtly quickened his pace, aiming to close the distance between them.
As he followed, he recalled why he was doing this. Evan had told him that Lawrence's trial had reached a stalemate because several of the jurors were stubborn and unyielding. Lawrence had asked Evan for help to "crack their hard heads."
Not wanting to waste any more time, Nucky increased his pace again, until it was nearly a light run. From behind the man's back, beneath the brim of his flat cap, Nucky's eyes looked razor sharp. With his body moving swiftly through the crowd, he resembled a bullet cutting through the air, locked onto its target.
When he finally judged the distance to be close enough, Nucky reached for the black dagger at his waist, drew it from its sheath, and prepared to strike.
Then after that—
"How you doin', Doctor? "
The words were spoken so softly that they barely brushed against his ears, yet they carried a shock powerful enough to freeze him in place.
Without warning, the body of the man addressed as Doctor went rigid. A hard, sharp force drove into his back, stealing the air from his lungs in an instant.
He began to turn, confusion only just forming on his face, as the briefcase slipped from his hand and struck the ground with a dull thud.
He tried to struggle, but the more he fought, the deeper and more agonizing the stab became. The tight grip from the figure behind him held him firmly in place, the very person responsible for the surge of pain spreading through his body.
For a split second, the noise of the street seemed to dull. The clatter of carriage wheels, the murmur of pedestrians, the distant whistle of steam all blurred into a distant hum.
At first, the crowd nearby did not fully understand what was happening.
A few people cast uneasy glances, sensing that something was wrong but not yet grasping the horror unfolding before them. Then the moment shattered.
The man staggered, a broken gasp escaping his lips as dark blood spilled from his mouth. His body lurched forward, trembling, before collapsing heavily onto the street. From his back jutted a black dagger carved with gothic leaf engravings, its hilt stark against the spreading stain that seeped through his coat.
That was when the panic truly erupted.
Hysterical screams from women pierced the air, followed by the rising swell of confusion and fear that spread through the busy street. Some shouted for a doctor. Others simply fled the scene, pushing through the crowd in desperate haste.
As for Nucky, he was already several meters away from the growing commotion. With the ruckus unfolding behind him, he walked calmly, wiping his hands with a handkerchief as a precaution in case any blood had stained his skin.
He also slipped a brooch shaped like a sunflower into his pocket. It was the merchandise he had taken in the brief moment of contact.
The brooch would later be handed to Evan, who would ensure it reached Lawrence's men. It would be placed on the jurors' table as an:
A silent warning.