The Mafia Empire

This tier of society had no business getting a membership, let alone ordering custom suits. Sometimes, class differences were brutally evident. Whether in the past or now, social hierarchies were as rigid as city walls, long since lost to war but always reminding people of their existence whenever they stood nearby.

Social class had long been etched into the bones and souls of people, compelling them to comply, to obey.

Class instilled unparalleled fear in the lower ranks and unimaginable arrogance in the upper ones.

The girl straightened up. She wasn\'t from an elite family nor did she have impressive social status, but as an apprentice and shop assistant at Paul\'s, she knew that if she made no mistakes and married a direct descendant of the Paul family, she might one day sit behind a screen, catering to high society\'s true elites.

She might even become a mistress to one of these important figures before that day came.

She never considered herself part of the lower class; she belonged, at least, to the social elite.

Once she straightened, her assumption was confirmed. That handsome young man in the white suit had come here before, wanting to become an apprentice, and had been very "politely" shown out. In the girl\'s eyes, that was an act of etiquette and moral propriety—a graceful refusal, with a dime given as a token of apology.

"Sorry, we don\'t take on apprentices," she said, still smiling. Her tailoring instructor had taught her that one must never lose a smile, whether dealing with a poor or ordinary person. To the lower classes, a smile displayed one\'s refined virtues. To the upper classes, it signified humble courtesy. Smiling was never wrong.

Julian glanced at the three screens in the shop. Only the innermost one was visible from outside, the other two hidden away, bright lights shining but no shadows moving.

He looked back at the girl, asking casually, "I\'d like to get a… no, five membership cards. How much?"

Five?

The girl drew a sharp breath and instinctively straightened, not to show off her figure but out of shock. At Paul\'s, membership cards came in three tiers: three-year, five-year, and permanent. Even the cheapest three-year card cost 1,500 dollars. And no, that wasn\'t a prepaid deposit or credit; it was purely for the privilege of membership.

Want a custom suit? Sure, but keep spending!

Five cards would be 7,500 dollars. The girl felt a twinge of embarrassment, as she was convinced this young man was mocking her.

But she kept her polished smile and slightly bowed her head. "I\'m sorry, sir, but it takes more than money to get a membership card here. You also need the appropriate social standing." Her smile widened a fraction, and she felt a strange satisfaction at saying that. She looked at the handsome boy with a pitying, sincere smile, one she thought was full of genuine regret.

Sorry, but this world isn\'t for the lower class!

How cruel she was, shattering a young boy\'s illusion of a beautiful world!

The pretty young attendant had barely managed to lean at the counter and enjoy a moment of rest. When she peeked through her fingers and saw that handsome young man in the white suit striding toward the last fitting room, with another visibly nervous fellow following closely behind.

Oh Lord above—that room belonged to Mr. Dumas!

Dumas Paul, to drop some unnecessary flourish, was the head tailor and manager of Paul\'s Tailoring in Ternell City. The success of this small tailor shop had allowed the Paul family to open branches in several major cities in the Empire\'s southeastern region. After the New Party\'s successful coup, capital had flourished.

To expand their influence and cope with the limited number of family members, the head of the Paul family had established a rule.

It was called the "Apprentice Integration Program." The old patriarch believed that if there were suitable and talented apprentices, they could marry into the family, becoming one of their own and helping to extend Paul\'s Tailoring\'s influence. The plan was a brilliant strategy.

Tailors trained apprentices, but without any constraints, apprentices would often leave upon mastering their craft, seeking to open their own shops and embarking on their so-called "shameless first ventures."

That\'s why Julian had never been accepted as an apprentice at any artisan shop. He hadn\'t met the standard for "inheritance." In simpler terms, master artisans picked apprentices not just as students but as potential successors or even family members. Apprentices were carefully selected and strictly controlled.

Few apprentices, after mastering their craft, would willingly continue under the "exploitation" of their mentors. They preferred to start anew, working solely for themselves rather than anyone else.

The young girl was one such lucky candidate. Mr. Dumas\'s eldest son, sixteen, was two years younger than her. He believed that a clever and capable girl who could care for his son for a lifetime was a worthy investment. Even better, once they married and she had the skills to manage a shop independently, his eldest son would be ensured a life of comfort. A worthwhile investment, indeed.

Of course, Julian knew nothing about this. Right now, he only wanted the best tailor in the shop to make suits for himself, Mason, Dave, Airlis, and that fool Graf. Everything else was irrelevant.

Mr. Dumas, at thirty-seven, was a slender man with dry skin, light wrinkles, and thick, well-maintained hair. He wore glasses and was lounging in a rocking chair, eyes closed in rest.

When Julian entered the fitting room, he noticed that the seemingly bright light from outside was actually softened by a lampshade, leaving half the room gently illuminated while the other half cast light on a translucent screen.