Empire of Shadows

He hadn't even had time to enjoy the Federation's freedom when he was already fucking unemployed.

Perhaps this bout of unemployment was a good thing for these young people, as it taught them a truth.

Even if they could endure exploitation and oppression, fate still wouldn't favor them.

Simply because they stood at the very bottom of the world, facing the power from above with absolutely no resistance.

When one has no ability to resist plundering, others won't sympathize with your plight; they'll only join the ranks of the plunderers.

Ethan wanted to argue with the managers, but Elvin gripped his clothes tightly, giving him a look he had never shown before, a somewhat ferocious look, and slowly shook his head, telling him not to do it.

To offend the workers, the workers actually belonged to the same class as them, at most they would cause some trouble, like calling the police.

Every year there would be a large number of cases in this city, the police would not waste their limited forces on such trifles.

They'd be insane to spend tens or even hundreds of dollars in police resources to handle worthless cases!

But offending the management, even if it was just the lower-level staff, would result in a different outcome.

Elvin moved to the front, "Sir, after this storm blows over..."

The manager looked at Elvin for a moment, then nodded slightly, "Of course, you're always welcome here."

"Elvin, you're a smart man, so I will tell you more."

"You see, this place can't function without you, so I think this turmoil won't last too long. You just need to hide away for the time being."

Elvin squeezed out a somewhat awkward smile, "Then during this time our... salary."

The manager, as if he hadn't heard, continued what he wanted to say, "The company won't allow the docks to shut down, the City Hall feels the same. You just need to be ready to come back to work anytime, anywhere, and wait for our call..."

In this relatively gentle manner, he told Elvin that money was no longer an option.

The income for a few thousand people for half a month was also a significant amount for the Dock Management Company.

And it was perfectly legal for them not to pay this income, after all, all these people were undocumented workers, weren't they?

The manager raised his hand as if to pat Elvin on the shoulder, but, seeing the obviously dusty shoulder, he withdrew his hand, "Good luck, Elvin."

As for the others, they were not even a concern in his eyes.

The buddies were somewhat angry but helpless. In this month, though they hadn't fully grasped the social class mechanisms of the Federation, they had gained a bit of awareness.

"What do we do now?", a buddy asked.

Elvin plucked a strand of hair and played with it in his hand, "Go find Lance; maybe he's got some good ideas."

The main entrance to the docks was surrounded by a group of protesting demonstrators; the mood of some of the young people seemed very unstable, occasionally striking the railings and gates with the sticks in their hands.

The police nearby seemed to be oblivious to their violent behavior, holding doughnuts and coffee, half-sitting on the hood of the car, chatting away and enjoying their food.

Perhaps because Elvin's group was the largest, the demonstrators, as if they had discovered a new land, had several leaders looking over in Elvin's direction.

Soon, most of the group of about thirty or forty individuals, all armed with clubs, started walking towards them.

The buddies had never experienced such a spectacle and were a little bewildered. Elvin saw that the police on the side seemed to have no intention of interfering with what was happening here. He suddenly pushed Ethan and Melo and shouted, "Run," and ran into the docks.

They were familiar with this place and knew where to hide and where not to hide.

The outside police still had no intention of doing anything, continuing to eat their sickeningly sweet doughnuts and drink their cloying coffee.

The Director said, letting out some emotion in moderation only led to positive effects.

As long as no one died... no, in an event that could already be called a "storm," even if a few people died, it wouldn't matter.

There were always some people who were not quite like normal individuals, or perhaps the social mood at the time was amplified by some politicians and capitalists, affecting more people.

Some local people, who hadn't come to protest, also rashly joined this "festival" that seemed to be targeting illegal immigrants.

Continuing until after two in the afternoon, the Dock Management Company considered that everyone's emotions had been sufficiently vented and called the Golden Port City Police Department.

Then numerous police cars wailed their way in, and a large number of police officers equipped with vine shields and batons started to enter the dock, pinning those who were attacking the illegal immigrants to the ground and handcuffing them.

Those illegal immigrants lying in pools of blood, or already injured, were ignored.

It seemed as though they were enforcing the law impartially, but this justice always reeked of rotten fish.

Elvin and his gang were relatively lucky, after all, there were many of them, and after being beaten up, they tried to fight back—

They would hold the attackers rather than hit them, trying not to let them get hurt.

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In that way, they managed to minimize the harm, but still, several people got their heads busted open, blood everywhere.

The faces of these young people, smeared with blood, betrayed a haunting fear. Not long ago, they had spoken of their aspirations for a bright future; now, nearly all was lost in this battle that had overtaken them.

The Mayor issued an urgent speech, demanding that all city police take to the streets to patrol and prevent the situation from escalating further. Those who were looting, smashing, burning, and resisting arrest were to be shot at.

Gunshots rang out sporadically all afternoon, not stopping until after seven when things gradually quieted down.

Lance cleaned the bakery absentmindedly, while the chubby boss returned in a truck, unloading a lot of stuff into the storeroom.

Because of the unimaginable things that had happened in the city that day, the chubby boss had Lance flip the "Open" sign over after seven o'clock.

He was wrapping up the final cleaning, ready to close the shop for the day.

Just then, the bell at the door went "tinglingling," and Lance, without looking up from his mopping, said, "Sorry, we're closed."

But the visitor didn't seem inclined to leave, instead asking, "Is Mr. Johnny here?"

It was only then that Lance stopped what he was doing, straightened up with the help of his mop, and took a look at the newcomer.

She was a young woman, around thirty-four or thirty-five, dressed in a slightly out-of-fashion boat-neck top with a burgundy skirt below.

Her fashion sense might not have been current, but her looks and figure added considerably to her charm.

She possessed a beauty that didn't compete on the same track as "fashionable."

"Do you need me to call him?" he asked.

The young woman nodded, and Lance ran to the back window, shouting through it to the storeroom, "Boss, someone's looking for you."

"Who's looking for me?" Johnny emerged with a ledger in his hand, his expression souring slightly when he saw the young woman.

Without waiting for him to speak, she approached and promptly dragged him into the break room, shutting the door behind them.

Watching the locked door, Lance sneered, "Lucky bastard."

This wasn't Johnny's ex-wife or his current one—he hadn't remarried since his divorce, and Lance didn't recognize the woman.

As he was about to resume his work, he was taken by surprise to see the apprentice standing by the door, eyes hurt and full of resentment, staring at the firmly shut door.

His fists were clenched so tightly they had turned white.

Lance walked over and nudged him with his elbow. "You know her?"

The apprentice glared at Lance, his reply sharp with agitation, "You'd better fucking mind your own business!"

"Is that your mom or something?" Lance shot back.

The apprentice gave him a fierce look, his eyes reddening, and turned away back into the kitchen. Only then did Lance realize that she really was his mother.

A lot of commotion came from the room. It seemed Johnny didn't care that others were outside as he roughed up the young woman. Even her pleas could be heard outside.

Lance figured the apprentice must have heard as well. The bakery was quiet; the slightest noise could be heard, let alone from a door that was hardly soundproof.

The entire incident lasted about fifteen minutes before Johnny emerged, satisfied, declaring, "This is the last time!"

He spoke threateningly to the young woman, "I'm doing this for your sake."

Pale-faced, the woman adjusted her dress, covered her face, and quickly left the bakery. Lance went to the door, cleaning up the mess left behind.

The chubby boss glanced at him, "Be thorough. If I find a single spot on the floor you missed, you're going without dinner again tonight!"

Then he went back to the storeroom; he had a lot to inventory after today's additions.

After finishing, Lance headed to the back where the apprentice was standing by the workbench, continuously rubbing his hands.

He leaned against the workbench, facing him. "Talk for a bit?"

The apprentice didn't respond.

As Lance was about to try breaking the ice, someone else came in, and he had to temporarily relinquish the opportunity to continue engaging with the apprentice.

Entering the hall, he saw it was Elvin, covered head to toe in blood.

The blood clung to his hair, and though his face had been somewhat cleaned, there were still many traces left.

Lance's expression turned serious, and he quickly went to inspect him, "Who did this to you?"

Elvin's nose tingled with the onset of distress, "That's not important. Lance, there was a clash at the docks this afternoon. We got beaten up then."

"I hid until now, only managing to sneak out in the dark, and there are a few others in the same boat."

"We've been temporarily dismissed..."

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