Landlord in the Arctic

In a trance, the unfamiliar face became his own from his younger days.

The floodgates of memory burst open, and it was as if he had returned to that era of passion and resolve.

"Thirty years ago, law and order in West Yellowstone City was a complete mess. The streets were filled with violence and chaos, but the Sheriff’s Department just ignored it, turning a blind eye as the gangs ran wild."

"Community representatives, out of options, came to my office. They reported the gangs’ atrocities in their neighborhoods and begged me to do something about it. Looking into their hopeful eyes, I swore to myself right then and there that I would find a way to change this grim reality, no matter the cost."

"Later, I came up with a bold plan. I started secretly investigating the various gangs to find the first one I could work with. I think it was..."

Here, Sheriff Sean paused for a moment.

After all, time had passed, and many of the details from twenty years ago had grown hazy in his memory.

After pondering for a moment, he still couldn’t quite recall it.

So he turned his head and asked the assistant sheriff at the wheel.

"Sam, the first gang we approached was the Razor Gang, wasn’t it?"

"That’s right, Boss. It was Martin from the Razor Gang." Sam gripped the Steering Wheel, a smug grin spreading across his face. "His gang’s main business was smuggling hard liquor. Back then, he supplied basically all the liquor in the whole West Yellowstone Region. I was the one who scouted the route for their first shipment."

"I still remember the barmaid at the Red River Bar in Alan Park. She had a killer body!" Sam grinned, a wistful look in his eyes. "Every time I scouted a route, I’d have to stay the night in Alan Park. Man, my back would be shot for a week afterward."

"My friend, that lady is Lady Julian now. You’d best stay away from Alan Park, lest you stir up unnecessary trouble for yourself."

A relaxed smile naturally formed on Sheriff Sean’s face. Recalling those past experiences now brought a certain kind of nostalgia.

However, when his gaze happened to fall on Little Tom...

The smile vanished instantly, and he continued.

"Later, I offered the Razor Gang a degree of protection to help them expand their territory. In exchange, they had to guarantee the safety of the civilians in the areas they controlled and cease certain criminal activities."

"Did the Razor Gang agree?" Little Tom, now completely captivated by the story, asked instinctively.

"Why wouldn’t he?" Sheriff Sean raised an eyebrow, as if he had anticipated his nephew’s question. "We made a secret deal. I used my official position to feed the Razor Gang intelligence, helping them crush their rivals. And the Razor Gang kept their end of the bargain, maintaining a relatively stable order in West Yellowstone City. During that period, even though a dark underbelly still existed, at least on the surface, things weren’t as chaotic as before."

"What happened then?" Little Tom’s aversion to his uncle seemed to fade, replaced by a strong curiosity about where the story was going.

Sheriff Sean narrowed his eyes, a glint of satisfaction in them.

"Later, as the Razor Gang’s power grew, the other gangs felt threatened, and gang wars broke out. During that time, firefights were common in the suburbs of West Yellowstone. I worked to maintain a facade of peace while secretly helping the Razor Gang solidify its position, until they became the only major gang in the West Yellowstone Region."

"So what happened to the Razor Gang?"

𝗳𝚛𝚎𝚎𝘄𝕖𝕓𝕟𝕠𝚟𝚎𝕝.𝗰𝕠𝐦

The moment Little Tom asked the question, he realized how stupid it was. The only gang in West Yellowstone City now was the Outlaws; the Razor Gang was clearly a thing of the past.

The corners of Sheriff Sean’s mouth turned up in a slight, disdainful smirk.

"A car going too fast is bound to spin out of control. There’s a Chinese saying with a lot of meaning: ’When things reach an extreme, they can only reverse.’"

"Once the Razor Gang became the biggest local player, controlling the underworld in all the nearby towns, Martin’s ego swelled. He forgot his place. Naturally, he became a target for elimination."

A cold light flashed in Sheriff Sean’s eyes, as if he were stating a simple fact, devoid of any pity.

"I eliminated the Razor Gang myself. Then I propped up a new gang to continue maintaining order in West Yellowstone City."

Then, Sheriff Sean tilted his head, his eyes locked on Little Tom. He seemed to be waiting for an answer—one that would tell him if his nephew truly understood his actions.

"So tell me, am I a good sheriff?"

"I... I... I don’t know!" Little Tom’s voice was barely a whisper. He lowered his head, not daring to meet his uncle’s gaze.

’He was completely torn. He had no idea how to answer that question.’

’From a legal standpoint, Uncle Sean’s collaboration with gangs was a clear violation of federal law. He certainly wasn’t a good sheriff by that measure.’

’And yet, it was undeniable that his uncle’s unorthodox methods had, to some extent, brought stability to the region and spared its citizens from the chaos of endless gang wars.’

The contradiction left Little Tom deeply confused.

Upon hearing his nephew’s answer, disappointment flashed in Sheriff Sean’s eyes. He fell silent for a moment, seeming to contemplate something, or perhaps, to make a decision.

Then, he spoke slowly to Sam, who was at the wheel.

"Stop the car!"

This time, the assistant sheriff at the wheel, having learned his lesson from almost losing control earlier, carefully slowed the vehicle and pulled over to the side of the road.

"Get out!"

Sheriff Sean’s eyes were cold, his tone devoid of any warmth. The temperature inside the car seemed to drop several degrees.

"Uncle Sean..." Little Tom stared blankly at his uncle, his face a mask of confusion and shock. His mouth hung open, but the words caught in his throat.

Sheriff Sean’s eyes were completely emotionless. His words were like an arctic blast, cold enough to freeze the heart.

"As of right now, you are no longer an Assistant Sheriff of West Yellowstone City. We have no relationship. Zack, get him out of the car!"

"Yes, Boss!"

Zack, the middle-aged assistant in the passenger seat, answered, then pushed his door open and got out.

He walked around to the back, yanked open the rear door, and grabbed the arm of the still-dazed Little Tom.

Without a word, he dragged Little Tom from the car and gave him a shove, sending him tumbling into the snowbank at the side of the road.

Then he turned, got back in the car, and shut the door.

"Sam, drive!" Sheriff Sean spat out the two words, his voice utterly devoid of hesitation.

The cruiser started up again.

The wheels slowly turned, crushing the snow on the ground with a crunching sound.

Snapping back to his senses, Little Tom ignored the snow covering him and the pain from the fall, scrambling to his feet.

He broke into a run, chasing after the cruiser.

He stumbled through the deep snow, kicking up flurries with every step.

"Boss, Little Tom’s just a kid. We can teach him..." Sam, the assistant at the wheel, said. He saw Little Tom fall in the rearview mirror, then struggle back up and keep chasing, and he couldn’t help but feel a pang of pity.

After all, he’d watched the boy grow up. Everyone had seen him as the successor.

’He’s still a bit naive, sure, but he’d mature with a little more training.’

But Sheriff Sean simply closed his eyes, a trace of weariness on his face.

He took a deep breath, suppressing a storm of emotions, and spoke slowly.

"I’m saving him. You can’t deal with gangs if you don’t have a ruthless streak. With his personality, in a complicated environment like this, he’d end up dead on the street sooner or later. It’s better to get him out of this dangerous vortex now so he can live a quiet life, rather than let him walk straight to his own death."

The two assistant sheriffs exchanged a glance and said nothing.

He watched the cruiser gradually disappear into the distance.

Little Tom stood alone in the snow.

Tears welled in his eyes.

...