Chapter Five: The Heir's Education
Morning sunlight cut through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Father's office like a knife. I sat across from him, trying not to wince every time I breathed. My ribs were wrapped tight under my shirt, courtesy of the family doctor who'd asked no questions when he'd examined me at three in the morning.
Father hadn't said a word for the past five minutes. He just sat there behind his massive mahogany desk, fingers steepled, studying me with those dark, unreadable eyes that had probably watched hundreds of men die.
Finally, he spoke.
"Viktor tells me you performed adequately last night."
Adequately. I'd led a raid that resulted in two of our men injured, one possibly dead, and I'd tortured information out of an enemy Nen user using an ability I barely understood. Adequately seemed like a generous assessment.
"We got what we needed," I said carefully.
"More than that." Father leaned back in his chair. The leather creaked. "The warehouse supervisor, Chen. He's been eliminated. The Hao Family's operations in our territory have been completely dismantled. They've lost face. Lost product. Lost their protection." He paused. "And you awakened Nen."
So he knew. Of course he knew. Viktor had probably reported everything.
"Three days ago," I admitted. "I've been practicing."
"Clearly." Father's expression didn't change, but something flickered in his eyes. Approval? Interest? Hard to tell. "That creature you manifested. Viktor said it was unlike anything he'd seen before. What type are you?"
"Specialist."
The word hung in the air between us. Specialist was the rarest Nen type, the most unpredictable. Abilities that didn't fit into the normal categories. Powers that broke the usual rules.
Father actually smiled. It didn't reach his eyes.
"Fitting. A specialist ability for the heir to the Volpe Family." He stood and walked to the window, hands clasped behind his back, looking out over Yorknew City. "Do you know why I sent you on that raid, Regis?"
I'd assumed it was a test. Prove myself or die trying. "To see if I could handle it."
"Partly. But also to wake you up." He turned to face me. "You've been sheltered your entire life. Private tutors, bodyguards, everything handed to you. Soft. Weak. That ends now."
His words should have stung. Instead, they just felt true. Regis had been soft. Pampered. Unprepared for the reality of this world.
"You're nineteen years old," Father continued. "In three years, maybe four, you'll inherit this organization. Fourteen families answer to us. Thousands of soldiers. Operations spanning three continents. Territory worth billions." He walked back to his desk and pulled out a folder. "You need to understand what you'll be controlling."
He dropped the folder in front of me. I opened it.
The first page showed a map of the Southern Peninsula marked with colored zones. Red for Volpe territory. Blue for our allied families. Green for neutral zones. Yellow for contested areas. It looked like a military campaign map.
"These are our holdings," Father said. "Shipping routes, casinos, protection rackets, underground markets, smuggling operations. Legitimate businesses too. Real estate, restaurants, import-export companies. Everything interconnected."
I flipped through the pages. Financial statements. Personnel rosters. Product inventories. The scope was staggering. This wasn't just a crime family. It was a corporation, an empire, built on violence and corruption but organized with ruthless efficiency.
"The Underground Auction is our crown jewel," Father continued. "Once a year, the wealthiest criminals in the world gather in Yorknew City to bid on items they can't acquire through legal channels. Stolen art, ancient relics, restricted weapons, human beings. Last year's auction generated eight hundred million jenny in commission alone."
Eight hundred million. Just in commission.
"The Ten Dons control the auction jointly," he said. "We each provide security, guarantee the products, enforce the rules. It's the one time we all cooperate instead of competing. Because everyone profits."
I knew what happened to the auction in two years. The Phantom Troupe would slaughter everyone there, steal everything, leave the mafia leadership in ruins. Father would die in that massacre.
But he didn't know that. To him, the auction was untouchable, protected by the combined might of the world's most powerful crime families and their Nen-using enforcers, the Shadow Beasts.
"Starting today, you'll begin learning the family business properly," Father said. "Not as the sheltered heir, but as my second-in-command. You'll attend meetings, oversee operations, make decisions. And you'll continue training your Nen ability under proper supervision."
"Supervision?"
"I'm bringing in an instructor. A former Hunter who now works for us. He'll teach you the fundamentals, help you refine your ability. You have raw talent, but you're sloppy. Uncontrolled. That will get you killed."
A Nen instructor. That could actually be useful. I'd awakened the ability through desperation and instinct, but I barely understood the basics. Proper training might mean the difference between surviving the coming threats or dying like Father would in the original timeline.
"Understood," I said.
Father nodded. "First lesson starts this afternoon. Until then, you're coming with me. We have business in the eastern district. Time you saw how real negotiations work."
***
The eastern district looked nothing like the wealthy financial towers where our estate was located. Down here, the buildings were older, more worn. The people harder. This was working territory. Docks, warehouses, the kind of places where cargo arrived and questions weren't asked.
We arrived in a convoy of three black cars. Father, Viktor, myself, and eight guards. Not the usual number. Father typically traveled with four guards for routine business. Eight meant he was expecting potential trouble.
The meeting was in a waterfront warehouse that stank of diesel and salt. Inside, a heavy-set man in an expensive suit waited with his own guards. I recognized him from the files I'd been reading. Han Wei, head of one of the families allied with us. Control over most of the dock workers' unions and shipping manifests.
"Salvatore," Han greeted Father with a slight bow. His eyes flicked to me with curiosity. "And young Regis. I heard about your recent... activities. Impressive."
Word traveled fast in this world.
"My son is learning the business," Father said simply. He sat down at a table that had been set up in the center of the warehouse. Gestured for me to sit beside him. "The Hao situation has been resolved. Their operations in our territory are finished."
"So I heard." Han sat across from us. His smile didn't reach his eyes. "Which brings me to why I requested this meeting. With the Hao Family weakened, their dock access has become available. I believe we should discuss how to divide those assets."
Ah. This was about money and territory. Always was.
"Your family handled the shipping," Father said. "The Hao Family provided the warehouse storage and distribution network. Now that they're out, we need to fill that gap."
"My people can handle both," Han said smoothly. "Shipping and storage. End to end control. More efficient that way."
"More profitable for you, you mean." Viktor spoke for the first time, his voice cold. "The Volpe Family provided the security and protection that allowed those operations to exist. We took the risk removing the Hao presence. We deserve appropriate compensation."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees. Han's guards shifted slightly. Our guards did the same. Everyone was armed. Everyone was watching everyone else.
This was the real business. Not the polite words, but the calculation of power, the weighing of who could hurt who, who would back down first.
"I'm proposing a partnership," Han said carefully. "Sixty-forty split. My family handles operations, yours provides security and territory access."
"Sixty-forty in whose favor?" Father's voice was mild, but there was steel underneath.
"Mine, naturally. We're providing the infrastructure and expertise."
"Seventy-thirty," Father countered. "In our favor. You're providing logistics. We're providing everything else. Without our protection, you have nothing but empty warehouses and angry dock workers."
Han's jaw tightened. "That's unreasonable."
"That's reality." Father leaned back in his chair, completely relaxed. But I could feel something in the air. A pressure. His aura, barely visible but definitely present. A subtle threat. "The Hao Family thought they could operate in our territory without proper respect. You saw what happened to them. Don't make the same mistake."
The silence stretched. Han's guards looked nervous. One had his hand near his jacket, probably where he kept his weapon. Stupid. If this turned violent, Father would kill them all before they cleared leather.
Finally, Han forced a smile. "Sixty-forty. In your favor. But I want guaranteed access to the northern shipping lanes."
"Done." Father stood, extending his hand. "Pleasure doing business with you, Han."
They shook hands. The tension evaporated. Han's guards relaxed. Business concluded, crisis averted, everyone leaving with something they wanted.
We walked back to the cars in silence. Once we were inside and moving, Father turned to me.
"What did you observe?"
A test. Everything with him was a test.
"Han wanted to take advantage of the power vacuum," I said slowly, thinking it through. "He saw the Hao Family's collapse as an opportunity to expand his own operations. But he was testing how hard he could push. Seeing if you'd grown weaker or more cautious after the conflict."
Father nodded. "Continue."
"You showed strength. Not through violence, but through certainty. You made it clear that you could destroy him if you wanted to, but that you were choosing negotiation. He backed down because fighting would cost him everything, while compromise let him walk away with profit."
"And the actual split?"
"Sixty-forty is probably what you wanted from the beginning. Seventy-thirty was an opening position. You let him negotiate you down to what you actually intended, so he feels like he won something."
Father smiled. Actually smiled, and this time it looked almost genuine.
"You're learning. Business isn't about who's the strongest. It's about who's willing to be the most unreasonable, who can make the other side believe they're getting away with something while you take everything that matters."
We drove in silence for a while. I watched Yorknew City pass by outside the window. Millions of people going about their lives, completely unaware of the criminal networks operating in the shadows underneath everything.
"The instructor will arrive this afternoon," Father said. "His name is Takeshi. Former Blacklist Hunter, specialized in tracking and combat. He'll be living at the estate for the next six months, training you properly."
Six months of proper Nen instruction. That would put me well ahead of where I'd be fumbling around on my own.
"After your training begins, you'll also start attending family council meetings," Father continued. "The other Dons' heirs will be there. You'll need to know them, understand their families' strengths and weaknesses. Make alliances where useful. The underworld isn't just our family against everyone else. It's a network of relationships, favors owed, past conflicts, and temporary truces."
I thought about the Phantom Troupe again. In the original timeline, they'd killed all Ten Dons simultaneously. A coordinated massacre that destroyed the entire leadership structure in one night. But that was two years away.
Two years to prepare. To get stronger. To gather the information I'd need to create Predators that could counter them.
"I understand," I said.
Father studied me for a moment longer, then nodded and looked away. "You did well last night, Regis. Better than I expected. Keep improving. This world will kill you if you show weakness, but it will bow to you if you show strength."
We pulled up to the estate. Father got out without another word, heading inside to deal with whatever crisis or opportunity demanded his attention next.
I sat in the car for a moment longer, staring at my hands. These hands that had killed someone last night. These hands that had commanded a monster to torture information from a broken man.
The old me would have been horrified. Sickened. Unable to sleep or eat.
But I wasn't the old me anymore. I was Regis Volpe, heir to a criminal empire, a Nen user with a Specialist ability that created predators to hunt my enemies. Living in a world where giant ants would eventually develop human intelligence and try to conquer humanity, where a group of thieves could massacre the most powerful crime lords on the planet.
Morality was a luxury I couldn't afford. Not if I wanted to survive. Not if I wanted to change the story's ending.
I got out of the car and headed inside.