Chapter Twenty-Seven: George's Third Drumbeat

Ethan slept soundly, and by the time he awoke, the sky had already dimmed to a dusky twilight.

After a quick wash, he was about to have dinner when Anya came to report that someone was asking to see him.

"It is someone from the Evans family. They arrived this morning, saying that George wishes to invite you to dinner."

"Also, Young Master, while you were resting, George went to visit Sandro."

"And the result?"

"Sandro refused to see him."

"Sandro is a good man," Ethan laughed, then said, "Tell the Evans family to go back. I will not be going. And have them tell George that the great ship of the new world has already set sail; there is no room left for those who run too slowly."

"Yes, Young Master."

Anya departed to carry out his orders and soon returned.

Tonight’s dinner consisted of a rich chicken broth and a bowl of paella. Anya was not only capable in her work but also meticulous in caring for his daily life. She knew Ethan had pulled an all-nighter and needed a bowl of warm broth to comfort himself.

After Ethan took a satisfied sip and prepared to eat, Anya couldn't help but ask, "Young Master, should I notify Velen and the other lieutenants to be on alert again?"

"Are you worried that George might do something desperate?"

Anya nodded.

"Do not worry, Anya. He won't dare," Ethan shook his head, placing a spoonful of rice into his mouth.

Anya remained puzzled and uneasy.

"In the distant East," Ethan swallowed his food and nodded in satisfaction—Anya’s cooking was as excellent as ever—"there is a saying: on the battlefield, when the first drum beats, soldiers gather their courage to charge and become invincible. If they wait for the second drum, their morale begins to wane, and by the third, there is no morale left to speak of. This is George’s third drum; he has lost all his fighting spirit. Once he learned that even Sandro stood firmly on my side, the only thing he could do was beg for mercy."

"But you told him there was no room for him on the ship."

"Which is why I told him to run faster."

Ethan laughed and continued his paella with even greater enjoyment.

George ultimately failed to meet Ethan in the most luxurious private room of the North Sea Star; he only received that single message. The words left his face ashen and caused his subordinate to smash a bottle of fine wine in frustration.

"Edwin..." he called out to his subordinate.

"Yes, George."

"Ready the car."

"Yes, Boss. Should I notify the other lieutenants now to prepare for war..."

Before he could finish, George snapped at him.

"War? What war? You idiot, I told you to ready the car to take me to the Poleta estate."

"But he already said..."

"He told me to run faster, can't you understand that?!"

George was nearly driven to madness. Why were his subordinates all such fools?

Moving with breakneck speed, George had his driver push the car to its limits, finally arriving at the gates of the Poleta estate in record time. When Anya saw George at the door, she was slightly surprised, but only slightly—after all, the young master had already performed so many miracles that one more hardly mattered.

After a search confirmed George was unarmed, Anya led him alone into the drawing room.

Ethan had finished his dinner and was sipping tea while browsing the newspapers from the past two days.

"Oh, George, you’ve arrived. Faster than I expected. However, I’ve been very busy and sleep-deprived lately, so I’ve been catching up on rest. You have exactly thirty minutes."

"Ethan, I’ve come to apologize to you."

Ethan remained seated on the calfskin sofa, making no move to rise or invite George to sit, leaving the man standing there awkwardly, waving his hands.

"Apologize? George, did you do something to offend me? I wasn't aware." Ethan feigned confusion.

"Regarding the Lewis matter—it was my doing. I am sorry. I will deal with him, I promise to your satisfaction."

"That is your business, George; it has nothing to do with me."

"Of course, that is what I should do. As for compensation, I heard you are starting a new business. I happened to acquire a plot of land in the southern suburbs, and I would like to gift it to you; it would be perfect for building a factory." George spoke with extreme caution, weighing every word, glancing at Ethan constantly. His demeanor could only be described as servile.

"George, oh, we are friends. How could I simply take land you worked so hard to acquire? However, I am indeed starting a business, and..." Ethan rubbed his brow, then pointed to the newspaper in his hand. "I read in the paper that besides the land, you recently built a new factory in the southern suburbs for processing seashells and fish bones from the North Sea into handicrafts. I am quite interested. Why don't you lease it to me? I’ll take the workers as well, and I can pay you for everything."

"Ethan, we are friends. If you want it, I will give it to you directly. Please do not refuse me. Your father and I were good friends. He has just passed away, and I should help his son." George struggled to pull off a smile, trying to make the words sound natural and sincere.

"George, George, oh, it seems I have misunderstood you all along. You are a true friend." Ethan set aside the newspaper, sat up straight, and raised his left hand, which bore his signet ring, displaying the ring on his ring finger. "In that case, I forgive you."

Watching Ethan’s movement, George felt a sense of chilling familiarity; in the past, this was the gesture he used on others. He was the one who usually granted forgiveness. When he forgave others, they would slowly walk toward him, bow their heads, and kiss his ring—like wolves submitting to a lion.

This time, it was his turn.

George took a deep breath, his entire body trembling. He looked at the young man sitting on the sofa. He was so young, and in the dim light, his youth was almost blinding. In the past, he had looked down on such young men, dismissing them as impulsive and unworthy of notice. Now, he had only one thought: have I truly grown old?

He slowly forced his body to move, walking step by step toward Ethan.

As he lowered his head, trembling, to kiss the ring entwined with black mud and thorns, Ethan suddenly stood up and pulled him into a hug.

"George, George, my friend, what are you doing? I was only joking with you. How could you actually do such a thing? If word got out, how would I face the other elders?"

"It was just a joke, don't take it to heart, okay?"

Ethan patted him on the shoulder.

George stood frozen, his body turning cold.