NOVEL NEXT Chapter 49: Chapter 49: Murder or Accident?
T/N: I will update 6 times a day for now.
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Nighttime, in the Bronx, within the most luxurious nightclub on the Carlson family's turf.
Deafening music filled the air as men and women twisted their bodies frantically. Onstage, provocative performances played out, while in the corners, junkies high on illegally purchased substances indulged in their escape.
George sat at the bar, casually sipping his drink as his eyes scanned the room for his target.
According to the intel from Leon, this nightclub under the Carlson family's control was managed by Carlson's youngest son, Junior Carlson, who visited almost every night.
Junior Carlson's greatest passion was women—especially young, vibrant ones, preferably those just stepping into society or still in school.
With his status, he could easily pay for droves of young college girls to keep him company. But he thrived on the thrill of conquest.
Every night, he prowled his nightclub for prey. Once he locked onto a target, his men would forcibly bring her to his private lounge. If he was particularly interested, he might take action himself.
On one infamous occasion, he even performed in the nightclub's central hall under the gaze of a crowd.
Afterward, as an heir to the Carlson family, he would hush everything up with money and threats. Girls from ordinary backgrounds, fearing for their families' safety, could only swallow their grievances.
Those who dared resist were simply silenced—disposed of at sea.
Even those with some influence rarely dared to directly confront the Carlson family.
As for people the family genuinely couldn't afford to provoke, they knew better than to set foot in a den like this.
The patrons were either regulars looking for wild thrills or naive youngsters unfamiliar with the club's reputation.
Some were too curious, some were chasing the fantasy of meeting a wealthy, handsome stranger and experiencing a magical night.
Reality, however, would quickly teach them that steering clear of danger was their best protection.
"He's here."
George noticed a burly bald man enter the nightclub, flanked by a group of lackeys, and take a seat in the exclusive VIP booth with swaggering confidence.
Killing Junior Carlson would be easy—George could control a blade to slash his throat in an instant. But that wasn't George's plan.
A straightforward assassination could lead to panic, making the Carlson family's leaders go into hiding and complicating matters.
Moreover, the consecutive deaths of high-ranking members in the 13 Families would create a major stir.
The ideal scenario was to orchestrate these deaths to appear as accidents. The less suspicion of superhuman involvement, the better.
Even during Leon's rooftop rescue, the outside world believed Leon had single-handedly taken down Chebell, unaware of George's intervention.
"Looks like I've hit the jackpot tonight," Junior Carlson mused, his eyes locking onto a girl in the central dance floor.
She was tall, well-proportioned, and had a fresh, inexperienced demeanor—a telltale sign of a first-time visitor. Her awkward dancing only added to her charm, making her a perfect target.
"Boss, she looks like she's about to leave. Should we just grab her now?" one of his men suggested eagerly.
Junior Carlson shook his head, placing his glass down. "I'll handle this one myself. She reminds me of that girl from last time... such a shame she ended up killing herself. Could've kept her around longer."
"Looks like the boss plans to take the stage in the dance floor tonight," another lackey remarked with excitement.
Junior Carlson approached the dance floor, intercepting the girl before she could leave.
What began as verbal harassment quickly escalated into physical contact. The girl tried to resist, but she was no match for Carlson's size and strength. His threats only amplified her fear.
Her companions, meanwhile, were immobilized by Carlson's men.
Just as Carlson was about to make his move, George positioned himself near the scene.
"Tarantella!"
A faint blue light zipped through the vibrant dance floor and hit Junior Carlson.
Carlson's aggressive advances abruptly halted as his legs began twitching uncontrollably, forcing him into an intricate, fast-paced dance.
Seeing their boss suddenly break into a bizarre dance routine, Carlson's men cheered loudly, thinking it was another one of his stunts.
The girl, her torn clothes barely hanging on, stood frozen, utterly confused.
As for Junior Carlson himself, he was completely baffled, having no idea why he was dancing.
"Leg-locker Curse!"
The dance curse was swiftly followed by the leg-locker curse, causing Junior Carlson to stumble and fall backward.
A small spiked stud, dislodged from a nearby punk's leather jacket, conveniently rolled under Carlson's head as he hit the floor.
Thunk!
The stud pierced the back of his skull, blood pooling instantly—dead on the spot.
"Someone's dead! Dead!"
Screams erupted, and chaos spread through the dance floor as patrons fled. George blended into the crowd, slipping out unnoticed.
The stud, of course, was no accident, but a product of George's subtle manipulation.
Two hours later, the grief-stricken Old Carlson stood in the nightclub, listening to a report from his men.
"Surveillance and investigations confirm this was purely an accident—not an intentional murder."
"I've warned him countless times to be more restrained. He wouldn't listen. He brought this on himself. Throw all the guards who failed to protect him into the sea to feed the fish!"
Confirming his son's death wasn't a murder, Old Carlson sighed, gripping his cane as he left the nightclub.
Losing his son was painful, but the bigger headache was the chaos his heir's death would bring.
His son's status as the heir had secured the loyalty of the family's upper echelon. Recently, they had even expanded into Chebell's territory, pushing things in a positive direction.
But now, with the heir gone, those same high-ranking members would inevitably grow restless.
If he mishandled the situation, the family could descend into turmoil, much worse than what had befallen the Chebell family.
"My health is still good. I can keep things under control. I must decide on a new heir quickly."
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