"Hmm? Your enemy died on their turf, shouldn't you be happy?"
Black Bear chuckled, seemingly pulling at his wound, revealing a look of unbearable pain.
"That enemy is my own brother, he's much smarter than me. If it weren't for him when we were kids, I would've been dead long ago.
My brother told me that to survive in this damn world, we small fry can only lick the boots of the big shots.
He helped me lick my way up from a small thug to a boss.
He also taught me to keep a cautious heart, because those big shots could chop our heads off if they're unhappy.
He came up with a plan, found a woman to pit against us brothers, and through this woman, we became enemies. He told me that separated brothers can warn each other and live longer. You shouldn't put all your eggs in one basket.
A few days ago, he died.
Killed by our enemies.
I was very happy, happy enough to get drunk, but I know one thing.
