Support me and be 30 chapters ahead of webnovel:
patreon.com/Draco_
*****
"Could he be some young master who ran away from one of Demacia's noble families?"
Vander muttered to himself as he placed the gold coin onto the nine already stacked in George's hand.
"This isn't about the money. That thing came from the Upper City. If we don't hand it over, it won't just bring us trouble—it'll bring you a lot of trouble too."
"Well, in that case, fine then."
George smiled, pocketed all ten gold coins, and pulled out a sack of Hextech magic crystals, handing it to Vander's large hand.
But would handing them over actually solve anything?
Sometimes Vander, this future werewolf, was far too naïve.
The authorities of the Upper City didn't care about those Hextech crystals. They hadn't even realized their true value yet.
What they cared about was the fact that people from the Lower City dared to stir up trouble in their territory. To them, that was a direct act of provocation.
And if such provocations weren't punished severely, then the people of the Lower City would only grow more reckless, to the point of another war like the one a few years ago.
So, even if Vander surrendered those crystals, the Upper City would never let the matter drop.
But that was exactly what George wanted. He needed this conflict to erupt—it was the fastest way to achieve his goal of seizing control of Piltover.
"Thanks. If you plan to stay in the Lanes for a while, just come to me if you run into any trouble."
The moment Vander took that sack of magic crystals, his tense expression finally eased.
According to the rules of the Lanes, a deal was a deal. Once money and goods exchanged hands, no matter the source, they could never be forcibly reclaimed.
So if George had refused, Vander would've had no way to force him. After all, he himself had made those rules, and he couldn't break his own code.
"I've heard Fogen Tavern's grapefruit rum is pretty good. I wonder if I can have a glass."
George waved casually to Vi and Powder behind Vander, then looked back at him.
Vander burst out laughing.
"Of course! I'll make you a supreme mix myself. But that drink is strong—are you sure you can handle it?"
To him, George still looked like a kid around Powder's age—just one who spoke with an oddly mature air, like a little grown-up.
George stepped past Vander, walking straight toward Fogen Tavern.
"Don't underestimate me. I'm someone who never gets drunk—how about we test it out?"
Never mind a thousand cups—his body could probably take a thousand barrels without breaking a sweat.
Three hours later, inside Fogen Tavern.
Vi and Powder stared at Vander, who had collapsed drunk across the table, surrounded by mountains of empty glasses. Across from him sat George, face flushed and eyes hazy, but still barely awake. Both sisters raised their thumbs in admiration.
Vander was known as the best drinker in the entire Lanes. They had never once seen him drunk before—yet George had managed to knock him down.
Though to be fair, George himself looked like he was on the verge of passing out.
Not just the two sisters—the burly men around the tavern were also staring at George with awe-filled eyes.
It wasn't that Vander couldn't hold his liquor. It was that this boy was practically a bottomless barrel—his drinking capacity was terrifying.
"Hahaha! Once Vander wakes up, we're going to mock him mercilessly for this!"
Even though Vander's loss wasn't undeserved, it wouldn't stop them from teasing him about it for months.
"Good lad, impressive! Just for toppling Vander, you can count on me—if you've got any trouble in the Lanes, come to your Brother Leopard!"
The tavern's men instantly raised their opinion of George to the highest level.
In a place like Fogen Tavern, there were only two ways to earn respect.
One was strength—the ability to fight. Whoever had the biggest fists was the boss, and Vander's fists were the biggest here, making him the leader.
The other was drinking capacity. When people didn't want to resolve matters with bloodshed, they settled them by drinking contests.
Until today, Vander had been the unrivaled champion. Now, George had taken that title.
As the tavern roared with laughter and cheer over the three-hour drinking duel, the heavy wooden door suddenly slammed open with a kick.
A man and a woman, both wearing ornate blue uniforms and gas masks, strode in.
The moment the crowd saw them, the lively atmosphere instantly froze over. Every face turned grim, their expressions filled with hostility.
"Damn it, it's those Upper City enforcers!"
Vi gritted her teeth, pulled up her hood, and tugged Powder into hiding behind the crowd. The enforcers of the Upper City had already seen their faces before—they were exposed.
"Where's Vander?"
The male enforcer pulled off his mask, his face twisted in disgust as he demanded an answer.
His scornful eyes and arrogant tone made the tavern's toughs instinctively reach for their weapons.
If not for Vander's repeated warnings never to clash directly with Upper City enforcers, they would've hacked these two apart and fed them to the shadow wolves already.
But the woman beside him raised her hand, stopping her partner from speaking further. She swept her gaze over the hall and walked to Vander, frowning when she saw him sprawled unconscious.
Her name was Grayson, the head of Piltover's enforcers. She had received a strict order from the council: capture the few thieves who had stirred trouble in the Upper City and make an example of them.
But unlike most enforcers, Grayson understood how fragile the peace between the Upper and Lower Cities was, and she had no wish to see war break out again over such a matter.
That was why she had struck a deal with Vander, leader of the Lanes—so long as his people didn't cause trouble in the Upper City, she would turn a blind eye to the shady dealings in the Lower City.
But now that an incident had occurred, she needed to appease the council's fury without escalating the conflict. She had come in advance to ask Vander to hand over the culprits voluntarily.
She hadn't expected to find him drunk out of his mind.
"Vander is drunk. If you two have business, tell me instead."
The general-store owner—Vander's closest friend and the Lanes' second-in-command—stepped forward politely.
"We've come for a few criminals," Grayson replied calmly.
But the male enforcer at her side sneered and barked, "A building in the Academy District was attacked by a bunch of gutter rats. Hand them over, or our enforcer squad will raze this whole place to the ground!"
"You little pig, say that again and I'll gut you where you stand!"
The tavern roared with shouts as men drew their weapons, while the male enforcer pulled out his pistol.
"Stop!"
Both Grayson and the general-store owner shouted at once, halting the clash.
"These are your lost goods. The kids will be punished and won't cause any more trouble in the Upper City. Let's end it here."
The store owner quietly pulled the pouch of magic crystals from Vander's pocket and handed it to Grayson.
It was the plan Vander had discussed with him before drinking.
Grayson took the crystals but shook her head.
"No. This time, those children must be handed over. Otherwise, it won't just be us next time—it will be the entire enforcer squad."
She didn't even need Vander to surrender them directly. As long as he revealed where they were hiding, or simply didn't interfere when she came with a squad to search, it would be enough.
(End of Chapter)