Chapter Seventeen: “Liquid Gold”

Dinner was held at the family estate. Compared to the luncheon earlier, the evening meal was far more lavish, primarily to reward those who had worked hard all day. Carlos joined them for dinner as well; despite the afternoon slipping away without a chance to speak with him, Ethan had invited him to dine together, and Carlos had accepted.

“Carlos, try this roasted veal steak. It’s a specialty you won’t find anywhere else,” Ethan said, beckoning him. The steak, naturally, was cooked by Anya, as Ethan had yet to hire a new chef, and her skills were indeed commendable.

Carlos graciously took a big bite and then savored it with evident enjoyment.

“Do you know why I kept you around, Carlos?”

“Moonshine,” Carlos answered, raising his glass and taking a sip.

Indeed, Carlos was a clever man—no wonder despite his rough exit from Wenster years ago, he had risen to become the first mate of a large ocean liner.

“You’ve probably heard—I’ve taken back the docks,” Ethan said, raising his glass to toast.

Carlos nodded; he had already caught wind of the news that afternoon. He was genuinely impressed by this young man’s decisive and ruthless methods, combined with strategic subtlety. Every move was unpredictable yet lethal. For a moment, Carlos found himself disoriented—was this truly the same boy he had seen just days ago on the ship, looking as helpless as a drowning pup? Now, before him stood a lion just beginning to reveal its sharp claws.

What force could have transformed someone so swiftly? Perhaps hardship truly held such power.

In fact, it was precisely these recent actions that convinced Carlos to stay for dinner. Had Ethan still been that helpless figure from the ship, Carlos might have felt pity but would never have engaged in any dealings with him.

“The prohibition has begun; people need their moonshine,” Ethan added.

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“What can I do to help, Master Ethan?”

“I have the docks, the ships, the liquor, and the sales channels. You have the routes,” Ethan explained, revealing why he was so intent on Carlos.

He knew well the significance of Carlos’s ship, the Sea God, a large ocean liner whose cargo capacity was among the kingdom’s top. The privilege of drinking onboard during the prohibition attested to the ship’s powerful backing.

Furthermore, the Sea God regularly sailed between the Old and New Continents, touching major cities along its expansive routes—an asset that sparked endless possibilities.

As first mate, Carlos wielded considerable authority. Whether smuggling liquor in, selling it, or simply drinking aboard, he had infinite operational freedom.

And moonshine, even if Ethan hadn’t overheard Joan and Fred’s conversation that day, his knowledge of similar historical prohibition eras told him enough: moonshine was liquid gold, even more precious than actual gold, with profits beyond imagination.

“Master Ethan, you’re not the first to approach me about this. Others have already discussed it with me,” Carlos said.

Ethan was unsurprised. Carlos’s influence was significant, and Wenster had its share of clever men.

“No matter their terms, I’ll offer an extra ten percent,” Ethan declared his own conditions.

“No, Master Ethan, you misunderstand. I’m not asking for a higher price. What I mean is, they were never in my consideration. My choice is only you,” Carlos said, raising his glass again. “Whether out of gratitude for Al or because of who you are, I’m willing to cooperate—fifty-fifty.”

“Fifty-fifty,” Ethan echoed, raising his glass once more.

The evening ended on a perfect note.

Ethan finally had the time to enjoy a long, relaxing bath. He still hadn’t moved into the main mansion, preferring to stay in the adjacent standalone house. Immersed in the warm bath Anya had prepared, all his exhaustion surged forth.

Only then did he feel himself returning to his true self, not the Ethan Polleta who had wreaked havoc at the Cabrera estate, lorded over the conference room, or masterminded events at the funeral.

The experiences of the past two days and nights felt surreal, prompting him to submerge his head fully beneath the water, as if diving deep into the sea.

Immediately, the living presence of the “True God’s Name” reappeared before him. It had grown more solid, shimmering faintly with purple hues, writhing slowly as if silently reminding him: he was Ethan Polleta.

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Emerging from the water, Ethan gazed quietly at the persistent “True God’s Name,” knowing the past was irrevocable.

All he could do now was to continue down this path.

With family and business affairs mostly settled, he could finally turn his attention to the matter of the “True God’s Name.”

During the day, he had carefully observed every visitor. He was certain that George Evans and Danny Colleone were true name bearers. He sensed in them an aura similar to what he had felt from Emilio that day.

As for Sandro, his aura was too strong; Ethan’s brief attempt to probe was immediately detected, so he gave up. Yet it was clear Sandro deserved his title as the “Saint of the Underworld.”

Though he could sense their essence, Ethan couldn’t control the power within George or Danny as he could with Joan and Fred. This led him to conclude that Joan and Fred’s power came from Alberto—that true names could be passed on and bestowed, and thus could be countered.

Recalling the sensation from the cemetery at dusk—the writhing akin to a butterfly emerging from its cocoon—he realized this process had actually begun after noon, though he had paid little attention while attending the funeral.

Now, reflecting back combined with the cemetery experience, he suspected that the writhing of his “True God’s Name” had been catalyzed by Anya and the others.

In other words, as they carried out his orders to enact violence and kill, or when everyone silently submitted to him, to violence, taking refuge in violence at the cemetery, the “True God’s Name” was being activated.

Considering his “True God’s Name”—the progenitor and protector of violence—how fitting, how perfectly aligned. It was as if tailor-made for him.

This gave him an idea: by embodying the very meaning represented by his “True God’s Name,” he could elevate it further.

As he pondered these thoughts, he felt the “True God’s Name” writhe once more. Then, a dark purple mass detached from its core, orbiting it like a satellite.