Tokyo: The Player Behind the Scenes.

Chapter 260, Part 03: Ethan Makes His Move

The Renault family's main businesses are media and automotive services, and they have been entrenched in Georgia for many years, with extensive connections.

From the founders, over 90% of the group's shares have been concentrated in the hands of each generation of the family, so they have never experienced the decline of their family fortune and have now accumulated billions of dollars in wealth and considerable influence.

After calmly watching his second son's performance, James picked up his teacup and took a sip of black tea as usual.

Then, he scrutinized Ethan with the look in his eyes as if he were assessing some valuable asset, as if the person sitting opposite him was not his familiar son.

What is it that you want?

Ethan knew that he had gained his father's approval.

After gaining the ability, he actually lost interest in taking control of the family or starting a business, but that didn't stop him from using the family to his advantage and help him grow.

“I need to know which family head is critically ill and trying to access the supernatural, and... a perfect substitute,” Ethan stated his conditions, glancing at his brother Alexander.

Alexander's body tensed almost imperceptibly for a moment, and he subconsciously clenched his fists resting on his knees, but his eyes remained restrained, showing no sign of horror.

James simply nodded slightly, his eyes showing approval: "I'm glad you didn't act like those fools who suddenly gain power and think they can take on the state apparatus single-handedly."

“I just don’t want to do something that loses money.” Ethan glanced at the Stars and Stripes hanging on the wall. “At least I know that I don’t have enough reason or power to do whatever I want right now.”

Unless he possesses a body like Ashiya Dōman's, which is immune to nuclear bombs, or a mysterious power like the one in the white-robed mask that is completely elusive.

Otherwise, blindly disrupting order could lead to a chain reaction that harms oneself.

James turned his gaze to his eldest son: "Alexander."

Alexander took a deep, unassuming breath, knowing that his fate had been sealed, just as it had been for the past twenty years of his life:
"Yes, father."

“I will arrange an accident, you and Ethan will be in a serious car accident. You will die in the emergency room, and then you will live in Ethan's place, becoming his perfect substitute.”

Alexander hesitated for only half a second as the scene of the maid's death flashed through his mind.

He knew he had no choice but to nod and say, "I understand."

“Very good.” James looked at Ethan one last time. “You now have the full support of the family. Go ahead and do what you want to do. I believe that with your current knowledge, you can handle the aftermath and know how to avoid unnecessary trouble.”

He slowly leaned back in his chair, his gaze passing through Ethan's young, sunny face, as if he saw a reflection of his own youthful ambition and ruthless nature:
“Remember, child, when necessary, nothing is off-limits. Money, people, moral principles, or even us. As long as you remember this last point, the Renault family blood will always flow in your veins.”

“Father, what you said is exactly what I was thinking.” Ethan was very satisfied with the result.

He never expected the Reno family to provide him with any transformative assistance, but he needed his brother Alexander as a perfect double to become Ethan in the public eye. This would allow him to create a lot of alibis and delay the time it took for the target to lock onto him.

After all, to meet those three growth requirements—greed, cruelty, and narcissism—it means that his behavior will inevitably cross the line of worldly morality. Therefore, he cannot guarantee that he will not attract the attention of the increasingly vigilant American official agencies, especially the National Security Special Response Bureau that was urgently established not long ago.

Therefore, he needed to approach other families—those who also yearned for extraordinary power, possessed the ability, and were willing to take risks—to become his allies.

By controlling and utilizing these front men, he could prevent the Renault family from being exposed to official scrutiny prematurely due to unusual cash flows or clues about certain experimental facilities, in order to acquire experimental subjects, build secret networks, and even divert attention.

"There are many families you mentioned that want to make contact with the extraordinary. Among them, the most eager are the Benson, Hearst, and Walton families. Whether it is due to old age or illness, the heads of their families do not have much time left."

After thinking carefully for a moment, James slowly revealed the information he already knew.

"If you're looking for a glove, I'd recommend Benson. They have virtually no rivals in Louisiana. Although they're not well-funded, they have a lot of control, especially when it comes to dealing with shady dealings. They're very entangled."

The Benson family of Louisiana?
Ethan quickly searched his mind for relevant information. He did not doubt his father's intelligence and judgment, but only examined the family's exploitability in his memory.

After recalling the events, he was fairly satisfied. He was indeed better suited to cooperating with this kind of family now, and it wouldn't be too late to expand his network once the next batch of players appeared.

However, such contact requires some planning.

Ideally, it would be a seemingly accidental opportunity.

A week later.

Louisiana.

Everyone knows that Florida has a lot of amazing people.

Louisiana, which is at a similar latitude, may be slightly less prone to supernatural occurrences, but when it comes to paranormal events, it is a region with a high incidence of such events, a vibrant scene of rampant supernatural activity.

It has everything from voodoo culture and vampires/werewolfs to Native American legends.

It is precisely because of this unique grassroots foundation that extraordinary events are determined to be hidden in historical details.

The newly established National Security Special Response Bureau has demonstrated astonishing efficiency, screening out tens of thousands of suspected extraordinary historical events in just a few hundred years of history.

Louisiana stands out as the leader, truly exceptional.

Unfortunately, after the initial excitement, reality dealt them a heavy blow when it came to on-site verification.

Despite the special authorization from the President and the cooperation of various localities who held their noses, the Special Response Team was able to operate with impunity and seemingly achieved brilliant results.

Your little museum in this small place has a history longer than the founding of the United States.
Take it with you! Don't try to test the bullet's strength with your skull.

You're saying this is a relic of the legendary magician David?

Take it with you! Maybe this is magic disguised as magic.

You're saying this is the tomb of the Voodoo Queen?
Take it all with you! We can't even spare the surrounding "neighbors" either.

These crude and simplistic house raids have sparked public outrage and widespread resentment. Local media outlets have launched a barrage of criticism, and state legislators have repeatedly protested.

Over the past month or two, the Special Response Bureau has amassed a mountain of artifacts. There are so many local folk artifacts, historical fakes, or purely bizarre collectibles that it's overwhelming, but there isn't a single item among them that clearly exhibits any unusual or extraordinary behavior.

They've become more restrained domestically, but in some smaller countries, they're even more unscrupulous, resorting to plunder and extortion.

Finally, even the president, who always adhered to an iron fist, couldn't hold back anymore. Under pressure, he urged them to tone it down, adjust their behavior to be more civilized and respectful of history, and learn to knock on doors politely.

However, the main reason is that they haven't achieved any significant results.

As a result, those places that experts had repeatedly studied and determined to have no extraordinary value began to be unsealed and returned.

Of course, even the most critical items, with only a one in ten thousand chance of being suspicious, are still firmly locked in the warehouse by the Special Response Bureau. There is no room for negotiation on this point.

The reopened sites include St. Louis No. 1 Cemetery, the legendary tomb of Mary Laver, the 19th-century voodoo queen.

Legend has it that she was proficient in the secrets of immortality and could communicate with the dead, which is why she was targeted from the very beginning of the supernatural. However, she found nothing and reopened the place, though all that's left is the venue; everything of value was taken.

This attracted the attention of Tom Benson, the head of the Benson family, who was increasingly desperate and seeking any remedy.

The fact that the special response agency couldn't be found means they weren't meant to be, but that doesn't mean I'm not meant to be.

Tom is now 96 years old. His physical functions have deteriorated significantly, and many of his organs can only be maintained by machines. He also has some mental health issues, which have led to him becoming increasingly insane.

He wanted to live, he just wanted to live, but why was it so difficult? To survive, he was willing to give up everything, including his soul and his offspring.

Unfortunately, these prayers were never answered.

until
"Why should I believe you?"

Sitting in his wheelchair, a feeble-looking Tom gazed wearily at the disheveled black man before him.

The other person was wearing an old jacket and tattered jeans, which clashed with the expensive furniture and antique ornaments in the reception room, and his body smelled like that of a homeless person.

He shifted his feet uneasily, stealthily glancing at the glittering ornaments again and again. His greed, which he thought he had hidden well, was as clear as if it were written on Tom's face, a seasoned old man.

Upon hearing Tom's question, the Black man became agitated and suddenly tried to stand up, seemingly wanting to use exaggerated movements to add accompaniment and strengthen his persuasiveness.

But as soon as he raised half his body and stood on either side of Tom's wheelchair, the silent professional bodyguards immediately made a move, without making a sound, their fingers silently pressing on the outline of the hard object at their waist.

They seemed ready to shoot at any moment.

"No, no, I swear to God, everything I said is true! This is a revelation given to me by the Queen!"

The Black man suppressed the movement of his arm and spoke excitedly.

Tom remained expressionless.

During this period, he had seen far too many people like this.

They all harbored the mentality of getting rich and wanted to obtain wealth from him that would ensure a life of comfort and security.

For money, they can display Oscar-worthy sincerity, and these people have all received their due punishment afterward.

However, few people have an expression that is a mixture of confidence and insecurity, like the person in front of me, as if they had not undergone any self-training before coming here.

Tom didn't want to miss any opportunity, but he also didn't want to waste time.

In the silence, a bodyguard answered the phone.

"."

After hanging up the phone, he leaned close to Tom's ear and whispered a few words.

After hearing this, Tom seemingly drowsy, he lifted his eyelids again.

“I’m giving you one last chance, Smith. Tell me everything without holding back. Don’t try to be clever. The only thing you have to offer is honesty.”

The Black man's lips moved slightly, he sighed, took out his phone, and opened his photo album.

There was a dimly lit photograph inside.

"Last night when I went to the cemetery to try my luck, I found this, a line of bloody writing, but it disappeared after I took a picture. I guarantee it disappeared in the blink of an eye. If I didn't have a photo, I would have thought it was my imagination!"

Smith's so-called "taking a chance" is actually a saying among the local homeless people, because the extraordinary appearance of such a person has brought more tourists to the area, and resources have also increased accordingly.

But now that cemetery has received official attention, even though it has reopened, it will still be closed at night to prevent damage.

So some people sneak in at night, but it's generally not worth it. There's also a high chance they'll be mistaken for someone trying to cause trouble and have their magazines emptied.

However, Smith used his racial talent and familiarity with the area to treat the cemetery like his own home, visiting it every other day to see what he could find.

It wasn't that he didn't want to come during the day, but that this place was someone else's territory during the day, and those people were even more ruthless.

Just last night, he heard a strange sound. When he quietly approached, he found that a line of bloody words was seeping out from the tombstone. Unfortunately, he couldn't understand it, and the handwriting was so unique that even the AI ​​couldn't recognize it. He then thought of Tom, the big shot who had issued bounties many times in order to find the extraordinary.

More importantly, when he arrived here, he overheard someone on the phone saying that so-and-so had sold extraordinary information to Tom and received millions of dollars in reward.

That's why he immediately thought of that.

Tom gestured to his bodyguards, one of whom picked up his reading glasses and the other picked up his phone, placing them in front of his eyes.

French.

Moreover, it is Old French.

It contains variant characters, has a random structure, and the font is somewhat artistic, so it's not surprising that most people can't recognize it.

The general meaning should be:

Cypress Slope by Ghost Lake, Mr. Dubois's land.

This is an address that, from a modern perspective, resembles a sentence structure found in fantasy novels.

But in the past, when the area was not yet fully planned, it was already a fairly standard place name.

“Fifty thousand US dollars, and you can pretend you never knew about this.” Tom didn’t show any joy, but calmly gave the price.

“No, sir, fifty thousand is too little. This is a supernatural clue. I’ve heard that you’ve offered over a million for some people. Isn’t this a bit too little?” Smith clenched his fist excitedly, licked his lips, and showed a dissatisfied, bargaining look on his face.

Tom was silent for a few seconds, then gave a soft "hmm": "It's too little. But that guy who took a million dollars, his clues were fake, and do you know what happened to him?"

Gulu.

Smith swallowed hard, but greed still prevailed over reason. He gritted his teeth and said, "Sir, this is definitely a supernatural event. I'm willing to forgo payment now and only take the money after you've confirmed it."

Tom let out a soft snort that sounded like a half-smile.

"it is good"

He maneuvered his wheelchair away, leaving a bodyguard behind: "Arrange a guest room for him."

(End of this chapter)