Chapitre 82: The Mafia

The translucent figure of Clone Number One hovered silently, observing the latest dealings of Wysebel and his group. The scene unfolded in one of the many dimly lit rooms where the newly consolidated remnants of the Mafia now found themselves under Wysebel's control. His smug satisfaction was palpable, even through the projection.

"Most of the Mafia remnants have pledged loyalty to us," a subordinate reported.

Wysebel, seated in a high-backed chair and swirling a glass of amber liquid, nodded. "They're docile for now. Their leaders are dead, and they lack direction. But mark my words—when they regain their strength, there'll be betrayals."

The subordinate hesitated, then replied, "Understood. I'll keep them in line."

"Good. Don't let them become complacent, but don't crush them either. Keep them alive, but just barely." Wysebel's smile was sharp, his words colder than the room's stone walls.