Chapter 11: Sales Channels

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George wondered if this version of the United States truly had five great families, or if he had somehow been reborn into the world of The Godfather.

George wanted answers. So, he asked Arthur directly, "Uncle Arthur, you just mentioned Corleone. Are there other families besides the Corleone Family?"

Arthur glanced at George, assuming it was just childish curiosity, and replied, "Yes, there are others, but I've never looked into them. I wasn't interested."

George didn't engage in the conversation that followed between Arthur and Ryan. Instead, he focused on his thoughts.

He couldn't be sure this world was the exact one from The Godfather, but it had Italian-American families.

And were there many Italians in the United States? After watching the film in his past life, George had looked it up. Large-scale Italian immigration to the U.S. began after 1870. Between 1880 and 1914, over four million Italians moved to the country, mostly poor farmers from southern Italy and Sicily.

Roughly half of these immigrants became laborers. Others found work in skilled trades—sailors, tailors, bricklayers, shoemakers, and barbers—indicating they came largely from the lower class.

Italians also placed great importance on family and kinship—something evident in the film.

Recalling all this, George was reminded of a business he had long wanted to try: liquor smuggling. He had never had the sales network to make it work. But now?

Whether or not this was the world of The Godfather didn't matter. What mattered was that similar groups of people existed here. Even if the Corleone family wasn't the one from the movie, George believed he could make his family more prosperous than theirs.

So, after dinner, when Arthur dropped them off at the hotel and was about to leave, George called out, "Uncle Arthur, may I meet your cousin?"

The question caught Arthur off guard. After a pause, he asked, "George, what's this about?"

Back in the car, George looked at Ryan and Arthur before saying, "I have a stable shipping route that can bring foreign liquor safely into the country. But I need sales channels."

Ryan looked at George, but said nothing.

Arthur glanced at Ryan, and seeing his silence, turned back to George. "Do you know what you're saying?"

"Of course," George replied firmly.

Arthur was quiet for a moment. "Let me think about it."

"Alright. If it's inconvenient, just give me the Corleone Family's contact info."

"I understand. I'll bring them over after I think it through."

After their farewells, Arthur drove away.

He didn't keep George waiting long. The next evening, he invited George and Ryan to his home.

That night, George selected two bottles of red wine and went to Arthur's house with Ryan.

When Arthur saw the wine, his eyes lit up slightly, and he welcomed them in.

In the living room, George saw three other people. Arthur introduced one as his cousin, also surnamed Corleone. Another was the head of the Corleone family here, named Mori Corleone, a close family relation. The third person went unnamed—George guessed he was a bodyguard or gunman and didn't ask further.

The two Corleones also perked up at the sight of the wine.

After Arthur opened a bottle, he invited everyone to dine. Dinner was served with white wine, and conversation remained light—no business talk yet.

However, George still asked Mori during dinner if there was someone named Sonny in their family. It would've been rude to directly ask about their boss, and asking about Vito Corleone could have seemed provocative. Using Sonny's name was a smart, subtle probe. And indeed, Sonny existed—he was the son of the family head.

After hearing Mori's reply, George thought to himself, "So there are five major families here." He was glad to have found a solid partner.

George, having seen the film, knew the Corleone family was both united and powerful. Before the Godfather began aging, they were the most dominant of the five families. Though involved in crime, the Godfather helped the poor and, importantly, refused to touch narcotics.

In the movie, it was his old age and refusal to sell drugs that prompted the other families to turn on him.

After dinner, they moved to the living room and sat on the sofas. Arthur poured red wine for everyone. They sipped in silence, savoring the flavor. After the first glass, Arthur's cousin refilled everyone's wine.

Arthur spoke first. "George, I've already shared your idea with Mori. They're very interested."

George looked at Mori. "What do you think?"

"I'm certainly interested," Mori said with a smile, "but I'm curious—how much liquor can you provide?"

"Mori, I'm more interested in working with your whole family. But since this is our first meeting, let's build trust. Name your quantity."

"What do you mean?"

"Name an amount. I won't ask for a deposit. In ten days, I'll show you the goods. Pay only if you're satisfied."

Everyone, even Ryan, looked at George.

Arthur seemed about to speak—perhaps to warn George not to overpromise—but Ryan subtly shook his head, signaling him to stay quiet.

Mori raised an eyebrow. "You're serious? Not joking?"

"What's there to be afraid of? I said, name your quantity—you pay after you see the goods."

Mori laughed. "Impressive. Bold. Alright—five thousand bottles. Any kind of liquor."

George understood. That number was small, less than what they likely sold in a week. They were showing restraint out of respect for Arthur.

George smiled at Arthur, then at Mori. "Alright. Five thousand it is."

They clinked glasses and drank.

The rest followed suit.

The game had started the moment they walked in. Mori and his people were there out of respect for Arthur. George's choice of wine was calculated to show strength. Mori would've already asked Arthur about George and known he was just a student new to Washington. Obtaining two quality bottles of red wine wouldn't have been easy.

George used that wine to remove any dismissiveness. Then, he offered a no-risk deal to prove his worth. He didn't overreach by asking to meet the Godfather—he knew a student like him wouldn't get close.

Mori, backed by the Corleone name, responded by setting modest terms—no concern for quality, just a quantity. This gave George a lot of flexibility. If he delivered low-end liquor, they'd just treat him as a minor supplier. No one would introduce him to the Godfather.

Both parties had made their moves and understood each other. With a tentative agreement in place, they finished their wine and moved to casual conversation. After a while, George and Ryan were escorted back to the hotel by the unnamed man.

At the hotel, Ryan followed George into the room. "Need anything from me?"

George poured two glasses of bourbon and handed one to him. "Not yet. But I plan to have my teacher set up a distillery in Canada. When he's ready, I'd like you to oversee it. This business is too profitable, and I don't trust anyone else."

Ryan glanced at the bourbon, nodded. "Alright. Let me know when it's time."

He took the bottle and left.

George smiled at the remaining glass in his hand.

After securing the room, George summoned ten Shadow Clones to practice forming bone armor with Shikotsumyaku. The hotel wasn't a place where he could make too much noise.

George realized there was a difference between bloodlines and skills. Skills entered his consciousness fully formed—he could master them quickly. Bloodlines, however, required practice. His early attempts at bone armor were awkward and misshapen.

Complex forms, like a golden Saint Cloth, were initially impossible. But with repetition, the speed improved. Eventually, even defensive wings could unfold.

So, it was a process of refinement. That's why he summoned clones to practice every night. Unfortunately, the room was limited to ten at a time.

Meanwhile, the main body sat by the window, thinking.

He had $450,000 in his account. The economic crisis was three months away. He needed the Canadian distillery up and running. He still hadn't secured a patent, and he wanted it badly—that would take money. Which meant liquor sales had to increase fast.

After some thought, he turned to a Shadow Clone. "Use Transformation Jutsu. Not into a woman—I'm not that perverted."

He had the clone transform into an owl. Thanks to his experience with one before, he understood their structure well. George planned to turn into an owl himself and fly to Canada. He was that desperate to make money.

Could Transformation Jutsu handle that? Of course. Naruto had turned into a shuriken. Itachi had a crow clone. It wasn't about ability—it was about proficiency. And George's skill mastery was maxed out. The clone tested the form first.

The owl transformation looked authentic. It flew a few laps around the room before being dispelled. The experience flowed back into George.

He changed clothes, dismissed the other clones, and left one behind to act as his double. That clone wouldn't idle—it kept "writing" novels.

That way, George had an excuse for being cooped up all day. The shared consciousness meant any emergencies could be handled instantly. Too bad clones couldn't access Chaos Space. That would be perfect.

He chuckled. "Don't get greedy," he muttered.

Then, he used the jutsu himself, transformed into an owl, and flew out the window.

High above the city, George identified his direction and headed north. Not long after leaving Washington, he saw a vast forest.

He landed and summoned eleven clones. Ten practiced Shikotsumyaku. One was tasked with catching a sparrow.

Once the main body understood the sparrow's structure, a clone transformed into an owl, and George himself into a sparrow.

Now he had a mount.

No way was he flying to Canada on his own.

When one clone was destroyed, another would take over. For George, there was virtually no energy loss.

This is how he flew over two thousand li to reach Walkerville.

— End of Chapter —

📝 Translator's Note

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