Yes, besides the beautiful Emily, the original Leo left another less glamorous legacy: the Lynchburg Gang.
Including Leo, they were the town's infamous Seven Warlords of Trouble—despised by parents and gossip circles alike.
In the original Leo's memory, their escapades were romantic, Western-style outlaw adventures. Their brotherhood was as enduring as the Blue Ridge Mountains. Emily? Just a pretty accessory.
With that mindset, it was no wonder Leo had never responded to her letters during the war.
From what he remembered of Earth, three years was more than enough time for Emily to have three kids.
They switched to a different bar. Leo studied the six familiar faces and quietly cursed the original Leo—these are the friends you chose? Seriously?
In the old Leo's nostalgic recollections, his brothers were loyal and honorable. But with his battle-hardened eyes, Leo immediately spotted signs of treachery.
Only the towering William "Billy" and the youngest, Aldo Nomié, seemed genuinely thrilled to see him.
The rest?
Second-in-command Carlo Renato kept sneaking glances at Emily's hand in Leo's.
Carlo's grin looked faker than the first compliment Leo had ever given to a boss back in his past life.
Third in command, Hans Mueller, a German-American with an overly stiff demeanor, couldn't even fake his excitement. Clearly unimpressed by Leo's return.
Fifth-ranked David Jones wore a white suit—a rare sight in town—and a meticulously crafted gentleman's hat. He kept brushing invisible dust off his trousers, glancing alternately at his watch and the window.
As for Johnny Flynn, number six—his smile was genuine, but Leo could see the hatred beneath it. He'd seen that look too often in the Pacific jungles: the grin of a two-faced bastard.
All of them—except maybe Carlo—were also sneaking looks at Emily.
Apparently, Emily wasn't just Leo's girl. She'd once been the collective crush of the Lynchburg delinquents.
"Leo, you never wrote a single letter. We thought you were dead," Emily said.
It sounded like concern. In reality, it was an accusation.
But Leo, once a romantic smooth-talker in his past life, wasn't about to walk into a trap.
He didn't answer her question. Instead, he shifted the conversation to the horrors of the Pacific War.
He spoke of sacrifice, rescue missions, fallen brothers. Emily was moved to tears—again and again—until she forgot all about letters.
When it looked like her eyes might swell shut, Leo smoothly changed the subject: "What have you all been up to?"
Turns out, only Carlo and Johnny were still hanging onto the Lynchburg Gang's name, but neither explained what they actually did. Their evasive glances made it obvious—they weren't up to anything legal.
Hans, it turned out, had tried to enlist with Leo, but his German heritage disqualified him. Now, he worked as an apprentice at a bakery.
Billy and Aldo, both only children, had stayed home and worked at the Brown Lumberyard with Leo's father. Since the yard shut down, they'd been idle.
Then it was David's turn. Clearly impatient, he finally stood up and addressed Emily:
"Emily, I guess you're not interested in trying that wine I brought from Richmond."
He turned to Leo with a smug sneer:
"Glad you made it back. But that's where it ends. If it weren't for Emily, I wouldn't even be here. Playtime's over."
He eyed Leo's faded denim shirt with a sneer:
"You're not good enough for Emily."
And with that, he walked out of the bar.
The mood broke. The rest of the group soon followed.
Only Leo, Billy, and Aldo remained to walk Emily home.
She didn't live in town.
In fact, Lynchburg had always been split: the old-money Anglo families lived on estates outside the town proper.
They reached her sprawling, three-story American-style manor—far grander than most city gates Leo had seen.
A bold "Brown" sign hung on the gate.
"Hey Billy," Leo asked, pointing, "Wasn't the lumberyard you worked at called 'Brown Lumber'?"
The big guy nodded cheerfully: "Yep. That's Emily's family business. She's Mr. Brown's youngest daughter."
Leo slapped his forehead.
Fantastic. Not only was she the girl they all chased—now there was a Romeo and Juliet twist. And somehow, the old Leo had no idea.
A short distance away, David Jones stormed into his own manor.
He threw a bottle of imported French wine against the wall.
His father, Andy Jones—owner of the town's largest construction firm—was home and not amused.
"She's not worth your anger, son. The Browns are finished. Once you graduate college, you can have any woman you want.
Even if you really want her—are you telling me, my son Andy Jones, can't beat out a washed-up soldier with no honors? You disappoint me."
David scowled at his freckled reflection in the liquor cabinet glass.
That bitch only cares about looks, he thought bitterly.
On Lynchburg's northwest edge lay the industrial zone—home to steelworks, cigarette factories, and other small-scale industry.
Most factories still operated, but a few old military uniform producers—boomed by the war, now collapsed—had shuttered their gates.
Except for one.
Its back door buzzed with activity.
Among those entering were Carlo Renato and Johnny Flynn.
They greeted underlings as they entered a back office.
Carlo sat and immediately grabbed a bottle of whiskey, drinking straight from the neck.
The fiery liquid didn't calm him—it only ignited him more.
In his mind, he replayed that restaurant kiss over and over: Leo and Emily, locked in each other's arms.
Crash!
The whiskey bottle shattered against the wall. Liquid ran down like the bile rising in his throat.