Empire of Shadows

In the morning, after the fat boss finished mixing the dough, he left, which was rare because it was also a peak sales period.

Outside, the streets were filthy and chaotic. A customer who came to buy bread said that all the city's cleaners were on strike today—

That was the polite way to put it. In reality, street cleaning in Golden Port City was mostly done by illegal immigrants.

They asked for very low wages, just twenty-five yuan, to sweep the streets twice a day.

Hiring locals would cost at least thirty-five yuan; ten yuan might not seem like much, but it added up to a shocking amount when based on a large scale.

There were two types of city cleaners: one was managed by the urban management bureau, working for the Federation Government.

They had salaries based on government employee standards, social insurance, medical insurance, social security, and various government employee benefits, along with more holidays and shorter hours.

The other type was privately owned, such as cleaning companies that contracted a certain district's street-cleaning from the City Hall at a relatively lower price.

They would hire illegal immigrants to do the work and pay them a pittance, keeping the difference as their profit.

When City Hall realized that the cost of hiring cleaners was much higher than contracting these private enterprises, they would hold meetings and outsource this public service.

The aim of saving expenses was not to better serve the society but to pocket more money.

Now, the conflict between local citizens and illegal immigrants in the city was escalating, and even if some cleaners were locals, they were afraid to go out to work alone.

Thus, forced strikes appeared, which might also represent another kind of political demand, using such means to tell the citizens to calm down.

Just one night and one morning without cleaning made the streets look much dirtier, with donkey and horse manure giving off a continuous stench under the high temperatures.

It would be best if it didn't rain today, or else the rain mixed with the animal manure would stink up the whole street, the entire city.

Sales peaked very quickly today; people arrived early, bought what they needed, and left, hardly staying to chat.

Around eleven o'clock, the car Fodis drove last time parked outside the shop.

He sat inside, watching Lance through the window, honked the horn, "Kid, get in!"

Lance took off his apron, handed it to the fat boss's daughter, quickly asked for leave, and got into the car.

"The boss wants to see you," Fodis started the car, trying to avoid the animal manure.

While it wouldn't damage the car, it was a hassle to clean when pressed into the tire treads.

But the road was full of it, unavoidable.

"About what?" Lance asked, though he had a hunch.

Fodis shook his head, "Cigarettes are in the drawer, you'll know when you get there."

On the way, Fodis remained silent, concentrating on driving. They passed protestors and saw people being beaten in some alleys.

At one point, Lance spotted police in action; they had just tied some of the demonstrators who had assaulted black immigrants to streetlamps and then left.

Fodis glanced at it, as if explaining to Lance, "The police station's full of these types, there's no more room, and they can't send them to jail, so this morning the Mayor signed the 'On-the-Spot Administrative Order.'"

"This type of behavior gets one directly locked to a nearby lamppost for twenty-four hours."

Lance found the cigarettes and lit one, "Is it that bad?"

He sneered, "Lots of outsiders are flooding in, you can imagine the scale."

Federation people always were keen on such extracurricular activities, but there were also professionals among them, who made money organizing events—Federation had no lack of such groups.

With the right amount of money, they could stage protests of any scale, anytime, anywhere.

Here, luxury cars had privileges too, entering the finance company's alley unhindered, the alley leading to their parking lot which housed many luxury cars.

At the back door, two burly men sat drinking coffee and bragging; they greeted Fodis with curiosity in their eyes at Lance.

"This is Howard, and this is his brother, Little Howard. Their dad had drunk a bit when filling out the birth certificates."

Howard's elder brother raised his hand in a shooing motion, "Don't fucking mention that!"

Fodis shrugged and helped Lance through the back door.

Inside was a large room, more like a lounge, with sofas, chairs, a round table, a dartboard, pinball, and pool tables.

Lots of people sat around; perhaps because they all spent time here, the floor creaked as they walked.

They greeted Fodis, who responded back, with many curious glances lingering on Lance.

Many people are afraid of these individuals; however, before triggering their "switch," they aren't scary at all, even quite amicable—in Lance's experienced opinion.

As he greeted others with a smile, learning from Fodis and the rest, he handed out Fodis's cigarettes everywhere.

"Is this the company's new guy?" an old timer, particularly fond of Lance, couldn't help but ask.

First impressions were important—the young, handsome, clean, and pleasant demeanor of Lance made it impossible not to like him.

Fodis snatched back the almost finished pack of cigarettes from Lance's hand, "The boss wants to see him."

The others then fell silent and could only wish him good luck.

Upon entering the finance company through the side door, the receptionist was busy applying makeup in front of a mirror. Hearing some noise, she glanced their way as Fodis explained again, "The boss wants to see him."

She then turned back to continue smearing her face.

After reaching the end of the corridor and turning left, Fodis opened the office door but didn't go in himself, "Good luck, Lance."

He quite liked Lance, but could only wish him luck now.

The boss was watching the news; the screen repeatedly showed the police Director cautioning the public against committing crimes while displaying their day's achievements.

How many people they had arrested, how many crimes they had prevented, but not a word on when the city would stabilize.

"Do you watch the news?" he asked Lance without looking back, gesturing for him to sit down with a dismissive wave, "Help yourself to whatever you'd like from the bar. I will finish this news segment. I remember you smoke; the cigarettes are in the box."

Lance took a cigarette, lit it, then leaned against the table, also watching the news.

At the news segment's end, the Director promised to restore order to Golden Port City as soon as possible. Surprisingly, Lance saw the policeman who collected protection money from the fat boss, standing right behind the Director.

"What's this guy's business?" Lance pointed at the man.

The boss, somewhat surprised, nevertheless explained, "His name is John, don't be fooled by the common name. Here, he has a nickname: 'Vulture.'"

"He's now an assistant director at a precinct, definitely not a good guy."

Who took bribes and who didn't wasn't exactly a secret among their circle.

Yet, there was an ironically amusing notion of a high-interest loan operator calling a bribe-taking policeman a bad person.

After the news ended, the boss turned around and signaled Lance to sit down, "I forgot to introduce myself last time, my name is Alberto Kodi. You can call me Alberto or Mr. Kodi."

Lance nodded in acknowledgment.

Alberto touched his lips, "I've been following the news these past few days. There was a massive conflict at the docks yesterday, I heard your folks are no longer allowed to work at the port, right?"

"Temporarily!" Lance explained.

A creditor of course had more power in requiring explanations, and he needed to assure Mr. Kodi.

He chuckled twice without clarifying why, then sighed, "These foreigners have turned the city into a mess, and we're a bit short-handed."

"You made me a promise before, that you'd come to work for me if needed. Is that promise still valid?"

Lance felt a bit surprised, yet not entirely, "Of course, Mr. Kodi. My promise is always valid."

"It's just... you know, the situation outside is a bit complicated, we might have some difficulty managing certain things."

Alberto raised his hand to stop Lance from continuing, "I'm not a fool, I know what kind of tasks to assign you."

"I have two accounts here, these two guys plan to run away, so can you collect the debt they owe me?"

"If you manage to handle these two accounts, then the debt you owe me will be written off."

Lance didn't agree right away, "How much do they owe you?"

Alberto pulled out two loan contracts from his drawer and threw them onto the table.

When Lance picked them up, he noticed they were highly formal contracts, seemingly reviewed by legal consultants.

One for a thousand yuan, now with interest amounted to three thousand five hundred yuan.

Another was a two thousand yuan loan, now amounting to five thousand yuan.

He whistled softly; there was no business direction more profitable than high-interest loans!

"Before I decide whether to take on this job, Mr. Kodi, do they have the money to pay you back the debt they owe?"

Alberto spread his hands, "Of course, they do. If you can't extract the money from them, then bring them to me, and it will still count as you having completed the job."

"So, what's your answer now?"