Director Genaro Garcia Luna of the Federal Investigation Agency didn’t show up for work.

But no one paid it much attention.

He was the kind of man who occasionally skipped work without a word, so people simply assumed it was one of those days and let it pass.

However, even after several days, he still didn’t come in.

Only then did agents from the Federal Investigation Agency visit his home.

When there was no response from inside, they eventually forced the door open.

Cold air filled the house, but there was no sign of anyone.

The agents searched every corner, but Garcia Luna was nowhere to be found.

“Team leader! Over here...!”

One of the agents called out.

“What is it?”

“Please take a look at this. There’s a used syringe. And we found more of these under the bed.”

“What?”

Startled, the team leader rushed into the room where the drugs had been found.

After examining the suspicious traces and the bundles pulled from under the bed, he frowned.

“The head of an agency investigating drug cartels... using drugs himself? Or did someone plant this?”

“Team leader.”

As he muttered to himself, another agent ran in urgently.

“A body believed to be the director has been found.”

“What?!”

It was an even greater shock than the drugs discovered in his house.

“Is that true? Where?”

“They say it was found # Nоvеlight # by the roadside between Mexico City and Sinaloa. But...”

“That’s enough. We’re heading there immediately. You stay behind and collect all the evidence. This isn’t an ordinary case. If that body really is the director’s, this won’t end quietly.”

“Yes, sir.”

The team leader hurried out and got into his car.

“Move. Now.”

* * *

After handing over Lascano’s body to the government, I met President Fox in private.

“Mr. President. Are you satisfied?”

The federal police being driven out by Los Zetas had been a laughingstock, not just in Mexico but worldwide.

Naturally, killing the head of Los Zetas—the source of that humiliation—put him in a good mood.

“Haha! Yes. Very satisfied.”

It was the most hearty laugh I had seen from President Fox so far.

“What about the remnants of Los Zetas?”

“They’ve been crushed beyond recovery. A few members may still be alive, but none pose any real threat. And given how many people hate Los Zetas, they’ll either hide for the rest of their lives or die in some dark alley.”

“Haha. Good. Very good. Ah, but I heard the base you were using was attacked. Are you hurt anywhere? Judging by the fact that you’re here, I suppose not.”

There was no emotion on his face as he brought up the attack.

“Fortunately, my guards fought well. That’s why I’m still alive.”

“Who did it?”

“It seems to have been the Sinaloa Cartel.”

“...So El Chapo has finally crossed the line.”

He muttered bitterly before asking,

“What are you planning to do about them?”

“First, we’ll clean up the remnants of Los Zetas. Then I’ll send mercenaries into Sinaloa and wipe them out at their base.”

He nodded.

“Understood. I’ll make sure you receive full support.”

“....”

When I didn’t respond immediately, he looked at me curiously.

“Do you have something else to say?”

“During the war with the Sinaloa Cartel, I don’t intend to share intelligence with the Mexican government.”

“What do you mean?”

“Very few people in Mexico know where I stay. So how did the Sinaloa Cartel pinpoint my exact location and attack me?”

His voice sharpened.

“Are you implying that we sold you out to them?”

“I don’t believe you did, Mr. President. But I can’t ignore the possibility. I hope you can trust us and wait.”

He clearly didn’t like it, so I continued.

“Unlike Los Zetas, the Sinaloa Cartel has many members and operates across a wide area. If information leaks, this will turn into a prolonged war. The longer it lasts, the more civilians will suffer.”

Even in the war against Los Zetas, there had already been civilian casualties.

For the government, that was something to fear—especially with the presidential election less than a year away.

“I ask for your understanding. The faster this ends, the better it is for you as well.”

“...Understood. Handle it as quickly as possible.”

At that moment, the office doors burst open and the chief of staff rushed in.

“M-Mr. President!”

“What is it? Can’t you see I’m in an important meeting?”

“Well, it’s...”

Seeing his pale face, the president turned to me.

“My apologies, Charlie. This seems urgent.”

“It’s fine.”

“Speak.”

The chief of staff glanced at me before speaking in a low voice—yet the room was quiet enough that I could still hear.

“Director Luna has been found dead.”

“What?”

The president jumped to his feet, slamming the table.

Coffee spilled everywhere.

“Luna is dead? What are you talking about?!”

“We don’t have the details yet.”

“Where was he found?”

“Near farmland along the highway leading to Sinaloa. And... the body... aside from the face, it was so mutilated it was barely recognizable.”

The president’s hands trembled.

“Who did this?! Find them immediately!”

“I’ll relay the order to the agency.”

“...Damn it. Block the press too. If this gets out, there’s no telling how far it will spread.”

“Yes, sir.”

The chief of staff rushed out, but the president still hadn’t recovered.

“Mr. President.”

When I called him softly, he finally composed himself.

“...My apologies.”

“You mean Director Luna of the Federal Investigation Agency?”

He nodded.

“That seems to be the case. Who could have done this?”

“Could it be that Director Luna had a conflict with the Sinaloa Cartel?”

“What?”

“Think about it. I was attacked. He was one of the few who knew my location. Perhaps the attack failed, they argued, and he was killed.”

He listened in silence.

“The body was found on the road to Sinaloa, wasn’t it? My reasoning seems sound.”

“...Charlie. Was this your doing?”

He had caught on.

I smiled faintly.

“What does it matter?”

“What?”

“Isn’t it simple? Whoever killed him, we just make the Sinaloa Cartel the culprit.”

Before he could respond, I continued.

“The Sinaloa Cartel will become the enemy of every cartel. This isn’t just anyone—it’s the head of federal law enforcement. The impact is incomparable. The cartels will sacrifice Sinaloa to survive.”

This was the murder of the very head of law enforcement.

No matter how chaotic Mexico was, cartels still feared the state.

That was why, during the era of the Institutional Revolutionary Party, they never openly fought the government.

Even under President Fox, they maintained a line.

Because they all knew—push too far, and Mexico would descend into chaos.

There was precedent.

A Colombian drug lord who waged war against the government.

With U.S. help, he was killed—but the damage was unimaginable.

Colombia suffered for it.

“The cartels will side with the government. So what will you do? Waste time chasing the real culprit and miss your chance, or seize the moment?”

He fell into deep thought.

But before he could decide, the chief of staff rushed back in.

“Mr. President! Every media outlet is already reporting it—with suspicions pointing to the Sinaloa Cartel!”

“What?”

“It’s beyond what we can control. W-what should we do?”

The president sighed deeply.

“...Understood. Wait outside.”

“But the calls—”

“I said wait outside!”

The chief of staff left.

“...Did you orchestrate this?”

“How could I control the Mexican media? You’re overestimating me.”

“...It feels scripted.”

“Even so, controlling the media here would be impossible for me.”

I looked at him.

“What will you do?”

He had no time left to hesitate.

“...Fine. Let’s name El Chapo as the culprit. But we will continue investigating the real killer.”

I nodded.

“Understood. I’ll proceed with cornering El Chapo. The government can handle things on its end.”

“End this quickly. Otherwise, we’ll intervene—marines, regular army, whatever it takes.”

“I’ve lit a fire in the rabbit hole. We’ll see what crawls out.”

I stood and left without waiting for a farewell.

Every media outlet in Mexico—TV, radio, newspapers—

All of them blamed the Sinaloa Cartel and El Chapo.

Murdoch’s media, acting on my orders, amplified it internationally.

Even U.S. politicians began paying attention.

President Fox addressed the nation, condemning Sinaloa and declaring war.

“It’s going according to plan.”

“Yes, boss. The mercenaries have finished off the remaining Los Zetas. They’re rested and ready to move into Sinaloa.”

“Good. We move after the funeral.”

I headed to the church where Garcia Luna’s funeral would be held.

“We’ve arrived, boss.”

Crowds filled the area outside.

‘What would they think if they knew he took cartel money?’

I walked past them and entered.

Inside, politicians, businessmen, colleagues, friends—and his family.

I moved to sit beside Carlos Slim.

“Chairman.”

“Ah, Charlie.”

I spoke quietly.

“You’ve made him into quite the hero.”

Slim had turned him into a martyr of the cartel war.

“That benefits us.”

“...I understand.”

“Let’s focus on the funeral.”

I stayed until the mass ended.

As the coffin was carried away, I remained behind.

Then someone approached.

“Who are you?”

Manager Ma stepped forward.

“I’d like to speak with Charlie.”

I recognized him—the man from the corner during my first meeting with Tijuana.

I nodded.

“Did Javier send you?”

He laughed.

“No. He’s not in a position to summon me.”

Then he introduced himself.

And his next words were enough to genuinely surprise me.