¡Felicidades por esas 300 lecturas, Isael! En el mundo de las webnovels, conseguir esa tracción inicial con solo 5 capítulos es una señal clara de que el misterio y el tono "sucio" de la política en Luxor están enganchando. Es trabajo honesto y, sobre todo, bien estructurado.
Aquí tienes la traducción al inglés de este nuevo capítulo, manteniendo el cinismo del narrador y ese sabor local del "Mexican Paradise":
Luxor Paradise: Apex Hunt - Chapter 18: The All-Inclusive Corruption
The Chief of Police possesses one of those personalities that abound in the governments we've had here. One of them once tried to force his way in, claiming a thief had escaped through our gates. He certainly did; he saved us the cost of feeding Sector One for that entire day. They count on me putting on a face of fear, lowering my voice, and inviting them to the VIP area, where they can bring whomever they please. They all accept; no one misses the chance to be where the alcohol flows and where many of the workers—both male and female, as it's always important to have both—readily "yield."
We take care of them so they can feel that "All-In-One Inclusive" Mexican Paradise. They always leave happy, tossing tips because it costs them nothing. Everyone who wants the services and discretion we provide to be part of their "bonuses" comes here. We've never paid for electricity; everything is settled between the bosses and my beneficiary. The city council provides twelve family passes, but I always have to keep space for people like Sergeant Morales—with his beer belly and an absolute lack of self-awareness, though he's very aware of when his next meal is coming.
"Mr. Topec... ha, Toper," he says. The same joke every time we speak. "What's up? Why are you calling me? Are you finally accepting the protection of my men at the other place for the rich?"
"Thank you, but no. I'm calling to inform you that new female colleagues of mine are being sent to the resort and that you are invited." It was true; the hostesses were trained to the peak of their abilities. They simply... missed the soap operas, the culture surrounding the areas where they grew up. So, we moved them to a different kind of training. Many of them end up married to mid-level government officials; the best part is they stay in contact with my people. Most of them know they wouldn't have made it this far working in the dead-end cantinas where they likely would have ended up. That keeps me informed. They don't leave their lovers, and their lovers don't leave them—an agreement that seems to work for everyone. "You know I always strive to ensure you are all well-attended."
"Now that is good news," he replies. "Lucila is a good woman, she feeds me and doesn't complain, but I need... you know, a change of scenery. I know this won't be free. What is it this time?"
"A rather bothersome lady came by wanting to enter the 'Mexican.' I don't need to remind you that much of what happens there stays within those walls." I thought of the orgies, the bodies that wake up in a hospital due to an overdose—or those that don't wake up at all. How many outsiders make that place their final vacation? "They will be visiting one of the nearby towns."
"No mames!" For the first time, he looks worried. "They went to Santa Muerte de Allende. No one comes out of there alive—stupid woman! This could be a major incident... although, she's traveling in a press vehicle, right?" He thinks at a primitive level, like a predator. He seeks simple solutions. "There are always farmers on that road complaining about the lack of government support for the fields. That could work."
Despite the sympathy I feel for the countryside subjected to misery, when I offered them help, they did nothing but hold out their hands over and over again. They never had the tools, the grain, the land, the water, the fertilizer, the logistics, or the harvest plans. They didn't hesitate to spend the millions I invested on drinking and maintaining their children through government schemes. They didn't want to learn new methods; they wanted to be kept. So, I suspended the aid. They don't complain because they can't work; they do it because they want me to finance them again. But my cultivation fields produce better plants.
"Of course, of course. Consider it done." He stares at me; I know what he wants. "I'll make sure you have tickets, even before the municipal president."
"Hell yeah! That's what I'm talking about! Don't you worry, your people are in good hands."
He's never been interested in coming inside. He knows this place holds armed big fish who won't stop just because his men make traffic signals.
There is one more to attend to. Someone I don't like seeing, but without whom this place wouldn't be standing: our chief of secondary income. The leader of the Northern Cartel, of the Violent Warriors, and of the "Shining Death"—all a facade for his true self. He is the largest exporter of drugs; the "Phalanges" whom very few know.