I'm a Master in India

Mary and Lena had no nationality; to be precise, they didn't know which country they belonged to.

In their childhood, they were Europeans; in their adolescence, they became Russians; now they could also be Indians.

If they hadn't met Mrs. Elizabeth, they might not have had such troubles.

Mary only remembered being born in Switzerland, with no siblings. Both her parents were artists; her father was a painter, and her mother was a soprano singer.

In her memory, childhood was the happiest time of her life.

Her creative parents were very popular. In that multi-ethnic country, poets, musicians, actors, and artists all loved to gather at her house.

Mary naturally learned multiple languages in life, speaking each one fluently.

She also spent a lot of time learning her favorite arias from her mother, and in her father's studio, she watched him use his favorite colors and shapes to conjure incredible images on blank canvases.

One day, her mother received an invitation from the Vienna Theatre to perform there.

Their whole family set out, planned their route in advance, and prepared to enjoy a long road trip.

As they were about to reach their destination, they suddenly encountered a snowstorm, and the car went off the road. Her father unfortunately died, and her mother was crushed under the car.

Lonely Mary cried helplessly, and then Mrs. Elizabeth appeared. She took Mary away and, incidentally, set the car on fire, burning her mother under the car clean.

Lena's situation was even more tragic; her entire family was silenced just to cover up the fact that she was taken away.

All of this happened in front of her. Her family were farmers near Brno in the Czech Republic, where the surrounding area was deserted for miles when the shots were fired.

They were taken away for training, learning various skills, with Mrs. Elizabeth personally serving as the instructor.

A few years ago, the two were sent to Brazil for a mission, but as they approached the target, news suddenly came of the dissolution in the north.

Mary and Lena fled, and Mrs. Elizabeth sent people to hunt them down. With Luca's help, they managed to escape.

Later, Mrs. Elizabeth herself became rootless. Her former subordinates lost contact one by one.

In desperation, she relied on old connections to start The Palace business in Delhi, and then, due to involvement in a political murder case, she began to move into Mumbai.

After Mary and the others heard the news of Mrs. Elizabeth's downfall, they also came to Mumbai.

As Ron saw, everything that happened afterward has now settled down.

"What are your plans for the future?" he asked.

"I don't know," Mary said, lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling and shaking her head.

"Mumbai is nice, I like it here," Lena said carelessly.

She had no home anymore, so anywhere was wandering.

"Then stay in Mumbai for now. You really like Bollywood, don't you?"

"We don't have anything else to do right now either," Mary shrugged.

"Solar Entertainment is your career, well, everyone's career," Ron said, nodding affirmatively.

Mary and Lena laughed, giggled, and laughed happily.

They exuded a sense of ease from the inside out, even able to stare at the ceiling and zone out for a few minutes.

"Oh, right, speaking of Bollywood, Director Chopra seems to be having some trouble," Mary said.

"What kind of trouble?" Ron also relaxed his body and lay between them.

"It's about the music tapes. Apparently, they couldn't reach an agreement with a record company due to copyright issues."

"Okay, I'll go take a look in a couple of days," Ron said, getting up.

"Where are you going?" Lena was thinking of a second round.

"There's still some cleanup work to do," Ron said, putting on his clothes and leaving.

The famous The Palace, burned to the ground, things wouldn't just end so lightly.

The public might think it was an accident during the revelry, or perhaps The Palace angered some rioters.

But the important people didn't think so. They were well-informed, and anything that could change the city's landscape would draw their strong attention.

That was tens of thousands of people; no one could remain calm about such a force.

The first person to call Ron was the Shiv Sena boss, Thackeray.

His power came from tens of thousands of Shiv Sena members. At his command, these people were willing to do anything for him, just like the rioters storming The Palace.

Look, now that a smaller Shiv Sena has been born, Thackeray immediately felt threatened.

As soon as Ron entered the door, he asked straightforwardly.

"Did you do The Palace thing?"

"They weren't shouting my slogan."

How could he admit to such a thing directly? In Mumbai, Thackeray was the biggest.

"Many people have called me, complaining about the current safety issues in Mumbai. The public's view is narrow; they can't see the big picture, can't distinguish right from wrong, and are easily incited."

"I understand. Mumbai cannot do without Shiv Sena. Fortunately, those people didn't harm the innocent; they were just dissatisfied with The Palace," Ron said, deliberately lowering his stance and explaining softly.

"That place was filthy, simply a blasphemy against Shiva," Thackeray said, also with a face full of disgust when mentioning The Palace.

He was extremely conservative, adhering to hindu culture. In his view, indian women should wear veils when going out, and when talking to strangers, their eyes should look at the ground.

The astonishing ways of playing in The Palace, in Thackeray's view, were heresy and should all be hanged.

Even without Ron, Shiv Sena would have destroyed that place someday.

It was precisely because their values were similar that he turned a blind eye to The Palace incident and to Ron.

Of course, Ron personally coming to explain the matter also gave him enough face.

"Not just The Palace, those Bollywood movies that cross the line should also be destroyed. What bad habits have young people picked up now?

Oh, right, Valentine's Day! I'll ban it next year, just wait and see. They won't dare anymore, I'm going to tear up those Valentine's Day cards.

What is Valentine's Day? Absurd! How much money do college students have in their pockets? Their father's allowance, and who knows if that money is legal.

Oh my goodness! They want to enjoy life with their girlfriends. Girls are like this now too. This generation, what does the newspaper call them, the Cola generation, right?

Whether it's Coca-Cola or Pepsi, they're wearing," Thackeray said with a look of disgust, gesturing towards his legs, "Jeans!"

Perhaps this boss was getting old, and as they chatted, the topic drifted elsewhere.

He was ultimately a tired, aging dictator. Whenever he finished an angry speech, he would chuckle lightly, appearing less threatening.

He would also joke with Ron about people in the film industry, and the way he smoked his cigar even looked somewhat benevolent at first glance.

But Ron did not forget that the person in front of him was the boss of Mumbai's parallel government, capable of remotely directing most things here.

"Those people are right next to your factory, you need to manage them well," Thackeray said, turning to instruct him.

"They will settle down, I guarantee it," Ron nodded.

Some things were mutually understood.

Ron wouldn't go around the world announcing what he did to The Palace, but he also needed the necessary people to know what kind of power he could mobilize.

Thackeray confirmed that this would not pose a threat to him, so he let it go lightly, and could even chat and laugh with Ron.

Power, that's what they all strove for and maintained with all their might.

Coming out of Thackeray's villa, Ron chuckled.

In this city of Mumbai now, there weren't many people who could make him feel apprehensive. Thackeray was one of them.

He was no longer the small character treated as a "horse." The Palace was his best stepping stone.

He was a businessman, true, and advocating for peace was also true, but that didn't mean he could be arbitrarily slaughtered.

Those who wanted to target him, especially the gangs, had better think twice before making decisions in the future.

Thackeray was not the last person Ron needed to see. The fall of The Palace was, after all, too conspicuous.

Mrs. Elizabeth had painstakingly managed it, cultivating a considerable network of connections.

Even though she was now senile, the regular customers of The Palace, or those whose secrets she held, were very nervous about this matter.

So, the day after meeting Thackeray, Ron went to visit Maharashtra Chief Minister Pawar.

"Why do you always like to cause big news?" Pawar's face was displeased.

"What do you mean?" Ron asked, looking completely innocent.

"What's going on with Karma Courtyard?" Pawar handed him the newspaper in his hand.

The report on it was about another riot that occurred in Mumbai.

Hundreds of small companies inside Karma Courtyard were driven out by swarming rioters. Those people only had time to pack up their valuables; everything else, including office supplies, was looted by the outside rioters.

Who were these rioters? Ron said he wasn't familiar.

"Mr. Minister, I am also a victim," he even complained.

"How did you become a victim? Those people came from the Slum next to your factory," Pawar said irritably.

"There's also a Slum next to the World Trade Center, but who can say there's a connection between the two?" Ron pretended to be ignorant. "Besides, they stole my houses."

"Your houses?" Pawar was puzzled.

"Yes, I just bought that place not long ago. I was about to renovate the building, but now it's completely occupied by people from the Slum."

"That's a bit troublesome," Pawar frowned.

"Of course, it's troublesome. That's over 30,000 people. Using force will provoke public anger."

"What are you going to do?"

"Ah, forget it. For the stability of Mumbai, I'll leave those houses to them," Ron said with a look of righteousness. "Although 200 rupee a month isn't much, at least I didn't come back empty-handed."

"That's it?" Pawar's expression was strange.

"That's it. It's just tough on the original tenants; the houses definitely can't be taken back now."

"I've never seen a Brahmin like you. You are more Vaishya than a Vaishya," Pawar finally couldn't hold back.

Did he really think he didn't know about The Palace incident? It was too coincidental that those rioters targeted The Palace, and then rushed non-stop to Karma Courtyard to take the next target.

If this series of dazzling maneuvers wasn't orchestrated by someone behind the scenes, then it would be truly bizarre.

It was clear without guessing that this was a transaction, and who the mastermind was goes without saying.

However, Pawar didn't care about the demise of The Palace; he even hoped it would burn more thoroughly.

That Mrs. Elizabeth was said to have secretly taken many photos of political figures seeking pleasure, and no one knew where they were hidden.

Now, burning it down with one fire was perfect, clean and thorough, leaving no trace.

The reason why there were no police and fire trucks on the day of the fire was precisely because many people hoped the fire would burn bigger.

Of course, Pawar would not say these things explicitly, nor would he thank Ron. As a superior, giving a proper reprimand was normal procedure.

"At least I eliminated a Slum of 30,000 people. They are now official residents of Mumbai, holding 30,000 votes," Ron hinted to him.

"Focus on your Sur Industrial Park and don't make big news anymore," Pawar said, his eyes flickering.

"No problem," Ron agreed readily.

See, everyone had something they wanted.

The people in the Slum wanted a stable place to live, and Pawar wanted votes.

What did Ron want? He wanted a seat at the table!