The Price of Power and Prosperity
Time is often the best medicine. In a few months, the optimistic and resilient American people would adapt to their new reality:
"Hey, are you broke?"
"Yeah, you too?"
"Yes! Haha, it feels good to be broke. I'm finally relaxed and don't have to deal with endless meetings anymore."
"Exactly! No more sleepless nights worrying about the stock market. I almost had a heart attack every day!"
"That's great. Moving bricks every day has even made me stronger. Want to join me?"
"Do you have bricks to carry? Perfect. Let's grab a drink tonight."
And just like that, the once wealthy elite found humor in their misfortune, adjusting to simpler lives. It was as if society itself had found a new balance, driven by resilience and self-deprecating humor.
For Charlie Lee, however, there was no time to relax. At the Shendun No. 22 Club, he faced mounting challenges. On the second floor of the club, Juliana sat in the public hall, sipping coffee with a troubled expression. Spotting her, Charlie opened his arms warmly.
"Juliana!"
The moment she saw him, her eyes lit up like stars in the night sky. She rushed over, grabbing his collar and pulling him close.
"Tell me!" she demanded, her voice tinged with excitement. "Who created the overnight plan in there?"
Charlie blinked in confusion. "What plan?"
"TooneyOvernight!" Juliana said, her face inching closer until he could feel her breath.
"Well, maybe I'll tell you another time. Not now," he replied, gently prying her hands off his collar.
As he turned toward the crimson door with the bronze "22" plaque beside it, Charlie couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. Turning to Ben, he asked, "What's going on here?"
After a brief explanation, Charlie learned that the second and third floors of the building had been converted into club spaces, leaving only the first floor for the Blue and White Chamber of Commerce and the Aegis Bureau.
"Ben, how much are we set to lose?" Charlie asked as he sank into a chair at Ben's desk.
"Between $30 and $50 million," Ben replied with a pained expression. "But leaving now is the safest choice."
Charlie nodded reluctantly. While the financial losses stung, his safety was paramount. His ambitions were just taking flight, and recklessness could clip his wings before he soared.
Shifting gears, Charlie asked, "What about the new headquarters? How's the search going?"
Ben handed him a folder. "We've narrowed it down to two options: the Michigan Tower at 400 Michigan Avenue and the Grand Theater at 13 Roosevelt Road."
"Give me the rundown," Charlie said, waving off the documents.
"The Michigan Tower, five years old, comprises two Gothic-style buildings spanning 12 acres on the Magnificent Mile. Meanwhile, the Grand Theater covers 22 acres but is in poor condition. I suggest demolishing it to construct a state-of-the-art headquarters."
Intrigued, Charlie decided to see the sites for himself.
Driving down Michigan Avenue, the bustling streets were a stark contrast to the grim reality of the Great Depression. Even amidst economic turmoil, the area retained its charm, lined with luxury stores and well-dressed pedestrians.
The Michigan Tower stood tall, its white Gothic facade and short windows resembling a "pigeon cage." Across the street, Ben gestured toward the financial district, but before he could finish, a loud bang shattered the moment.
A body had fallen from the sky, splattering blood across the pavement. The crowd paused momentarily, crossing themselves in silence before continuing on.
"As you can see, the environment is… challenging," Ben said dryly.
Charlie sighed, the grim scene dampening his mood. "Let's move on to the Grand Theater."
When they arrived at Roosevelt Road, Charlie was unimpressed. The theater's worn-out walls and dust-covered facade exuded an air of decay.
"Buy it, demolish it, and build something modern. I want a headquarters that screams innovation, not nostalgia," Charlie instructed.
Ben began drafting plans, already considering which architects to involve. "Any specific style in mind, Boss?"
"Something futuristic," Charlie replied. "Think glass panels and sleek designs. Practicality is key."
The car drove on, passing the newly built Civic Opera House. Its grand facade caught Charlie's eye.
"Can we buy that?" he asked, pointing at the majestic structure.
"It's possible," Ben said thoughtfully. The opera house was owned by Samuel Insull, a utility tycoon facing severe financial troubles due to the Depression.
Charlie's thoughts returned to the Michigan Tower. "What if I buy it and lease it out to the Chamber of Commerce and the Aegis Bureau? Would that count as an expense?"
Ben's face lit up. "Brilliant idea, Boss. That would reduce your taxable income significantly."
With the Great Depression forcing tax reforms, Charlie's strategy was to reinvest his wealth into job-creating projects, minimizing his liabilities while solidifying his influence. Mayor William Dever had even promised substantial tax credits if Charlie could create 500 jobs in Chicago.
Arriving back at the club, Charlie felt the weight of his decisions. The Shendun No. 22 Club was growing, but so were its challenges. As the mastermind behind its rise, he knew that every move he made would shape his legacy—whether as a visionary leader or a scapegoat for a nation in turmoil.
In the end, Charlie resolved to play the long game. Ambition demanded sacrifices, and he was prepared to pay the price. After all, in a world of chaos, only those who adapted would thrive.