One week later…
The olive oil business founded by the four men had officially opened to the public under the name "Genco Pura Olive Oil Company"—a name that stirred a deep sense of nostalgia in Vito, conjuring memories of his earlier days and old ventures long past. The air in their part of the city had shifted, now rich with the aroma of pressed olives and the quiet buzz of hopeful ambition.
Rather than selling the product directly on the busy marketplace streets, Josef and his network of merchants stepped forward, volunteering to handle the export and distribution. This allowed them to consolidate supply lines and maintain a steady and controlled presence in the local economy, keeping their brand reputation secure and consistent.
The olive oil was offered in two distinct forms: bottled for refined culinary use—sleek, dark glass vessels marketed as premium—and canned for versatile applications such as lighting or general household use. The canned variant, while less elegant, was more affordable to produce and appealed to a wider market. Pricing, however, was strategically designed. Nobles who sought to purchase the oil were expected to pay a hefty premium—20 gold coins for a bottle and 50 for a can.
Most aristocrats begrudgingly accepted the pricing, unwilling to pass on something so novel and effective. A few wiser nobles even understood the mark-up; products of this rarity and quality were seldom seen in the capital, and they knew scarcity often justified a higher cost.
The story was vastly different for commoners. Aware that the lower class could scarcely afford even a single gold coin, Vito made a strategic decision to fix the price for them: 15 silver coins or 30 bronze coins. In a generous gesture, he also allowed them to retain the actual coinage, accepting only 15% of the earnings made through noble purchases in exchange.
When Josef reviewed the ledger and balanced the numbers, he paused, realization dawning.
"Vito-dono, you intend to implement your own currency exchange among the middle class… by squeezing the gold out of the nobility?"
Vito gave a wry smile. "If those scoundrels are reclining on mounds of gold, there's no harm in pressing them a little, no?"
Josef let out a laugh, an unexpectedly youthful grin lighting up his face—one that was quickly tempered by concern.
"But Vito, that borders on criminal. If the Empire catches wind of this—"
Before he could finish, Vito raised a hand gently, silencing him.
"If there's one thing I've learned in my month living under the Empire's shadow, it's this: the strong take from the weak without hesitation. But in my neighborhood, real strength comes from foresight. It's not just about muscle. It's about outthinking your enemy and turning every loss into an eventual gain."
He leaned back with a calm air.
"By the time they realize what we've done, we'll already be so embedded—so self-sustaining—that any confrontation will just be another business transaction. A coin here, a coin there… it always finds its way back."
Josef, still trying to reconcile what he was hearing, chuckled in disbelief.
"For someone who claims to be a mere businessman, you think remarkably like a criminal."
Vito joined him in laughter, his eyes gleaming with subtle pride.
"In every success," he said, raising his glass, "there's always a crime."
Gauri and Genco took a leisurely stroll through the bustling market, their steps light and expressions radiant with pride. It was a moment of quiet celebration—the olive oil they had labored over and exported throughout the capital had sold out completely. Their gamble, backed by trust, hard work, and unshakable camaraderie, had paid off handsomely.
"To be honest," Genco murmured with a trace of disbelief, his eyes sweeping across the lively vendor stalls, "I never thought this would turn out to be such a huge success."
"Same here," Gauri replied, chuckling with a glint of relief in his eyes. "After all, you sold everything you owned and placed your faith in Vito's hands. That was no small thing. Now look at us—we're about to make a fortune from oil and olives."
Genco smirked thoughtfully, pausing to glance at a shop displaying goods imported from distant provinces. "So… what are you planning to do next?"
The question lingered for a moment, and Genco's smile faded as he turned introspective.
"I'm not sure, Gauri. I swore a brotherhood with Vito, and I trust him—but I can't be too dependent on him forever. He's still a stranger from a far-off land… yet a stranger who extended his hand and helped me stand again. A man of silence and action."
"Well," Gauri said with a steady nod, "if you're ever uncertain about your next move, you can always talk to us. We've got your back, no matter what. Vito didn't just save lives—he changed ours."
"Thanks, Gauri," Genco said sincerely, then glanced sideways, curiosity creeping into his tone. "So, how did you meet Vito anyway? What brought you into his circle?"
Gauri's face dimmed as a shadow passed over his eyes, the joy in his step momentarily slowing.
"Oh… if it's too personal, then–"
"No," Gauri interrupted, voice low and even. "There's something you need to understand about me."
Genco waited in silence, sensing the weight of the story about to unfold.
"I used to be an Imperial soldier," Gauri began slowly. "I did what I was told without question, blindly following orders. Then one day, a woman took an interest in me. Her name was Aria. I didn't realize it at the time, but my fate changed the moment I met her. Soon after, I was expelled from the army for reasons I never understood. She took me in, offered me shelter, a place to belong—or so I thought."
The name hit Genco like a cold gust of wind.
"Aria... back when my inn was thriving, I heard whispers about her and her family—none of them good. Since you were close to them... I suppose those rumors were true?"
Gauri didn't answer right away. The heavy silence between them was answer enough.
"When I discovered what they truly were behind closed doors, I wanted to escape. To flee. But I couldn't. I was too weak. Too broken. I resigned myself to a life of servitude, waiting for death to free me from that wicked house. I lived like a ghost—ashamed and invisible."
He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.
"Then came Tatsumi and Vito. At first, I saw them as fresh prey—unsuspecting innocents wandering into the same trap that had ensnared me. I secretly prayed they'd escape the same fate I did. But the next night, everything changed. That was when I finally saw who Vito really was."
Gauri's voice grew distant, almost reverent, as though recalling a legend.
"A dark angel. Molded by honor and driven by virtue. Cloaked in the flesh of a cunning beast. When he saw through Aria's lies… when Tatsumi ended her life… I knew in my heart they hadn't just saved themselves. They saved me. They tore down the walls of that house and let the light back in. They made me see the truth—just before Night Raid could strike me down."
His voice faltered, emotion clouding his features. Pain, regret, and gratitude twisted across his face like a storm. Genco said nothing at first. Instead, he simply reached out and gave Gauri a firm pat on the back.
"Gauri… if you still feel guilt despite everything, it means you're still human. Vito saw that in you—and that's what truly mattered. He saw your worth before you could."
"Gauri… if you still feel guilt despite everything, it means you're still human. Vito saw that in you—and that's what truly mattered. He saw your worth before you could."
Hearing those words, Gauri looked away for a brief moment, his eyes softening. A small, grateful smile tugged at his lips.
"Thanks," he replied quietly.
The two continued to stroll through the cobbled paths of the capital's bustling district, weaving past morning crowds. The scent of spice, soot, and baked bread drifted on the wind. But not all was calm—subtle tension brewed in corners of the marketplace.
A few merchants cast sideways glances at a nearby olive oil vendor. The expressions weren't just passive curiosity—they brimmed with quiet resentment.
Curious and cautious, Genco and Gauri stepped closer to one of the older merchants who had been scowling for some time.
"You've been giving a nasty look at that vendor for a while. What's the matter?" Genco asked, his voice measured.
"What's the matter? What's the matter is that they're whisking away all my customers from me. It's bloody ridiculous," the merchant snapped, his frustration barely contained.
Genco and Gauri exchanged a puzzled glance as the man, clearly worked up, went on.
"I've been selling whale oil to nobles for years—at a fair price, just enough to scrape a living. And now today, some upstart comes along peddling what do they call it—'olive oil'? Like it's the Second Coming!"
Genco froze, realization dawning on him. Their new venture—Genco Pura Olive Oil—had created ripples they hadn't anticipated.
The merchant's voice trembled with rising desperation. "Now what can I do? If this keeps up, I'll be ruined. I've got no capital left. And my landlord? Keeps sending his dogs after me for rent."
"That… does sound like a serious problem," Gauri said sympathetically.
Before the man could say more, Genco took a step forward and slammed a pouch of coins on the table between them.
"I'll take your whale oil," he declared. "All of it."
The merchant blinked. Gauri's eyes widened. That was wholly unexpected.
"All of it?" the man asked, almost in disbelief.
"Every drop," Genco said firmly.
A short while later, the transaction was completed. The merchant, still dazed, handed over every barrel and flask he had in storage. Genco gave Gauri a subtle tug by the sleeve.
"We really need to talk to Vito," Tatsumi whispered, tension edging into his voice.
Gauri nodded. "Okay."
Neither of them realized that Vito wasn't at the inn at the moment.
At the bustling heart of the Empire, the plaza buzzed with life as people moved about their daily routines. Amidst the crowd, Vito stood out—dressed in a plain, dark-colored overcoat draped over a meticulously tailored suit. His dark fedora cast a deliberate shadow over his calm, calculating eyes, masking the layers of thought beneath. Beside him walked Tatsumi, in a modest white shirt and a light green vest, his demeanor giving off a more relaxed and almost naive air in contrast to the older man's composed presence.
They weren't out for business—not in the conventional sense, at least. Vito had insisted on walking the streets himself, choosing to read the pulse of the Empire from its crowded alleys and squares rather than from the cold, detached balconies of high-ranking officials. It was through the people, not the elite, that one truly understood the nature of power and fear.
That was when they saw her.
A young woman, barely in her twenties, stood straight-backed at a security checkpoint. Her amber eyes were alert, and her rigid posture hinted at a strict military upbringing. Her auburn hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and she wore the crisp, formal uniform of the Imperial military. Over her torso was upper-body armor embossed with the crest of the Imperial Guard—an unmistakable sign of her station.
"Kiruuu!!!"
Alongside her was a small, white dog with curious black eyes, floppy ears, and a large, rounded nose. Unlike an ordinary pet, the dog stood upright on its hind legs with practiced ease.
"Strange dog," Vito observed aloud. He had never before encountered an animal that could stand and move so comfortably on two legs.
"It's okay, Koro. He means no harm," the woman said, calming her pet as she scooped it up in her arms like a plush toy.
"Sorry for inconveniencing you two," she added with a polite bow of her head.
"No worries," Vito replied smoothly. "We're just merchants here, admiring the view of the Empire."
Her expression brightened with patriotic pride.
"I'm glad you're able to see such a great place that perfectly represents the Capital."
She straightened up and saluted enthusiastically, clutching her odd little dog with one arm.
"Seryu Ubiquitous here, happy to serve people like you in the name of justice!"
Tatsumi narrowed his eyes at her declaration. The cheerful words clashed harshly with what he knew about the decaying state of the Empire.
As if there's justice here in this rotten place, he thought bitterly.
Vito, however, studied her with quiet focus. There was something more behind her fervent smile—something fractured and dangerous.
"Good to see young people like you dedicated to serving the Empire," he said. "However, there's something I'm worried about."
"With what, good sir?" Seryu asked innocently.
"You see, I'm setting up shop here, and I've heard whispers of corruption in the Empire. It's hard to keep your guard up when danger can come from both sides."
"Stop right there," Seryu cut him off, her mood shifting abruptly. "All that is just fear-mongering spread by the Revolutionary Army. It's disgusting. They're nothing but a bunch of sick animals."
Her voice grew tight, fists clenched, eyes wide and trembling with fury.
"It makes me sick, seeing what they're doing to the citizens. Anyone that sides with those... monsters... is an enemy to me. I can't understand why anyone would want to destroy this wonderful nation. Sick bastards."
Vito saw it then—the moment her mask cracked. Behind her smile was someone who had embraced a warped sense of righteousness.
She's clinging too tightly to her belief in the Empire, turning a blind eye to its failings... No, not just turning a blind eye—justifying it, all in the name of her version of justice.
She sees the world in black and white. Dangerous… but also predictable.
Returning to the moment, Vito pressed gently, "Is that so… Well, may I ask you a question, signorina Ubiquitous?"
"Y-Yes!?" she responded, slightly flustered at the honorific.
"If the people here were to be oppressed by, let's say, an Imperial Officer, what would you do then?"
"I would deal with them swiftly, make sure justice is served—for the sake of the citizens of the Empire."
So she still holds a sliver of morality… it's just been twisted. Perhaps she can still be of use—if guided carefully.
Vito smiled warmly, as if reassured.
"Very well then. I'm glad to encounter a dedicated soldier like you."
"Thank you so much, mister...?"
"Vito, Vito Corleone. And this is my associate, Tatsumi."
"Pleasure to meet you," Tatsumi said with a flat tone.
"Likewise! Anyway, I'll return to my patrol. See you around!"
With a final salute, Seryu turned and walked away, Koro still nestled in her arm.
As she disappeared into the crowd, Tatsumi muttered, "I doubt that's the last we'll see of her."
Vito nodded in agreement. The two men resumed their stroll, both more alert than before.