The Mafia Empire

"Still not out yet?" Graf's eyes were bloodshot, a sign of the immse stress he was under. For him, this was no less than a high-stakes gamble, one that risked his tire fortune.

He was one of the few porters at the station who could actually make a dect living, earning about elev to twelve dollars a month, thanks to his speed and efficicy. If the number of porters were reduced, his earnings would increase ev more.

Under Julian's detailed explanation, he had put forth all his savings—forty-one dollars—as the "startup capital" for their business. According to their agreemt, if they successfully transformed low-proof alcohol into high-proof alcohol, Graf would take forty perct of the profits from selling the high-proof alcohol.

Julian had no objection to this; he had originally planned to give Graf fifty perct of the profit.

But wh Graf immediately asked for t perct less, Julian, no fool, knew better than to argue further.

With Graf's forty-one dollars, Julian quickly gathered everything needed from memory. A small metal bucket to boil the low-proof alcohol, a lid with a pipe attached. The pipe ran through another bucket filled with water, and at the d of it, a glass basin was placed to catch the liquid. The setup didn't cost much, just four dollars and fifty cts in total.

If not for the need to have a blacksmith attach a pipe to the lid and seal the gaps betwe the wood barrel and the pipe, it would have cost only three dollars and sevty-eight cts.

The real money was spt on the boxes of low-proof alcohol, some sugar, glass bottles, and the house they were using—all of which consumed a large portion of their startup capital and couldn't be avoided.

They both took two days off and spt all their time in the small room. Graf, ever cautious, had covered all the windows and doors with curtains, which turned out to be a terrible idea as the room began to stink.

As the low-proof alcohol in the small metal pot began to bubble, Julian weighed down the lid with some stones and reached out to touch the pipe, only to pull back quickly—it was hot. The momt the first drop of liquid dripped from the other d of the pipe, Graf was immediately on alert, carefully watching the process. More liquid began to drip, faster and faster.

Graf dipped his trembling hand into the liquid at the bottom of the basin and brought it to his mouth.

Julian swallowed dryly, his throat burning from tsion. He had giv it his all for the past two days, and now his heartbeat thumped loudly in his chest. If they succeeded, all would be well, but if they failed, he would feel guilty—Graf had risked everything for this!

Wh he saw Graf close his eyes, his features scrunched up, and his whole body began to tremble, Julian's mind wt blank. Had they failed? He sighed in defeat, ready to extinguish the flame, wh Graf suddly shouted, "It's good!"

Overjoyed, Graf expressed his excitemt, almost unable to contain his relief. Before meeting Julian, he had no idea that cheap, low-proof alcohol could be turned into expsive, high-proof alcohol. If he had known this earlier, would he still be working as a porter at the station?

Both of them shared a look, their eyes gleaming with the excitemt of success. Without needing words, they broke into a shared burst of laughter, the tsion and joy of the momt finally spilling over.

Their laughter didn't last long, as a loud dong dong dong came from upstairs, accompanied by the shrill voice of a woman yelling, "Are you going to keep everyone up? You jobless idiots will never escape this shithole, let us who have work in the morning have some sleep!"

They both froze, stifling their laughter, but neither felt any displeasure from the woman's complaints and curses. They turned back to the simple distillation equipmt, staring at the small bowl of amber liquid emitting a not so pleasant odor, yet both were utterly captivated. This wasn't just high proof alcohol; this was money!

Julian's heart raced ev faster, his mouth dry. He knew they had brok imperial law, but for some reason, he felt no fear. Instead, he was filled with exhilaration, a sse of excitemt! If it wer't for the need to keep a low profile, he would have thrown op the windows and sung aloud to release his joy.

"How long do we keep distilling?" Graf asked, tilting his head as he noticed the liquid dripping from the pipe slowing down.

Julian wasn't sure. He hesitated for a momt before suggesting, "Maybe we should stop for now and see how much we've bottled." As soon as he said this, the two of them set to work, pouring the liquid from the basin into their prepared bottles. Staring at two full bottles and one three-quarters full, their excitemt faded, replaced by deep suspicion.

They had used three bottles of low-proof alcohol for this experimt, but somehow ded up with nearly three bottles of high-proof alcohol. The more they thought about it, the more it didn't seem right.

Graf grabbed the half-filled bottle and took a swig, only to spit it out immediately. "Ugh, why is it so bitter? The taste is off, and the alcohol contt isn't ev high!"

Julian quickly oped the small metal pot and found a layer of burnt, yellowish, sticky substance bubbling at the bottom. Using a small stick, he poked it, blew on it, and tasted it. A strong flavor of sweetness and bitterness hit him, making his head throb.

He slapped his forehead as he realized that the first liquid they had collected was indeed high-proof alcohol, but after that, water had started evaporating, leaving behind the non-evaporative substances.

Like the sugars and spices in the alcohol.

Now that they understood what had happed, the next steps were much clearer. Julian scraped out the burnt residue from the small pot, poured the low-proof alcohol back in, and distilled it again. Wh about a bottle's worth of liquid had be collected, he switched to a new container. This time, wh they tasted the liquid in the basin, it was not only bitter but also very strong.

Julian slowly added the burnt syrup-like residue back in, adjusting the taste until Graf declared it perfect.

"I think we can start selling now!" Graf couldn't resist taking another sip. Lord knows, he had never joyed high-proof alcohol as much as this. The fiery liquid filled his stomach, but what rose was a warm ssation. He loved the burning taste, much like how he liked adding chili powder to his cigarettes.

Julian, however, was more cautious. "We should investigate the market, check the prices and flavors of the most popular high-proof alcohol, and th improve our product to make it stand out. That way, we can build a better reputation and value for ourselves."

Graf, already a bit tipsy, scratched his ear with his pinky and asked, "Does that mean we'll make more money?"

Julian nodded firmly, "Yes, we'll make a lot more money!"

Graf laughed loudly, his voice filled with excitemt and anticipation. They both knew they were onto something big, but they also understood there was a long way to go.

But soon, they faced another problem—they were out of money!

Graf's suggestion was to take the distilled alcohol they had and sell it for some quick cash, th use that money to buy and sample other high-proof alcohol on the market. But Julian had a differt idea. Jumping into an illegal business without proper preparation wasn't something a smart person would do—it was likely to cause unnecessary atttion.

And building a profitable operation would take time and careful planning.

So, the two returned to the station, waiting for the d of the month and their next paycheck.