Empire of Shadows

In the morning, Lance had bought a new suit for ten dollars.

He didn't go to a tailor for a custom-made one, instead, he bought a ready-made one from a roadside store. Although it didn't fit perfectly, it was already excellent for him at this point.

He then headed to the Kodak family's casino located in the Golden Port City Bay Area, where he still had some chips to cash in.

The Kodak family's casino here was not the kind that was secretive or hidden in inconspicuous places.

On the contrary to those underground casinos, the Kodak family's casino in the Bay Area, was located on the cliffs behind Golden Beach!

A splendid and resplendent building stood at the edge of the cliff.

Every day, the brilliant sunlight would shine on its dazzling walls, making it impossible for people on the beach not to notice this building that reflected light like a mirror.

More than one person had complained to City Hall about the building's impact on beachgoers, but the Kodak family wouldn't short-change their fines.

However, demands for remedial changes went unheeded.

According to Port City and nearby laws, they had up to one hundred days to address the facade issue after paying the fines.

This meant they only needed to pay the fines three times a year to maintain the status quo.

Over time, everyone was eventually forced to get used to it.

At night, it burst forth with awe-inspiring light, and the building had effectively become one of the attractions of Golden Beach. Many young people made a point of visiting to take a look and even leave a photo to prove they had been there.

To get to this casino, one had to approach from the other side, as this area on the cliff was private property belonging to the Kodak family. Lance took out his chips and mentioned Fodis's name, and after he was searched to ensure he didn't carry any weapons or cameras, he was allowed entry.

The security at the casino was strict. Every ten to twenty meters, two or three armed security guards patrolled.

They weren't stationed statically; they were on the move, which enhanced the security of the area.

When he arrived at the main building, he found it to be much larger and more splendid than it appeared from below the cliff.

Upon entering the lobby, there stood a long counter, the place for exchanging chips.

Before he could take two steps, a scantily-clad bunny girl came up to him, "Are you here alone, sir?"

The bunny girl appeared no older than twenty and was very well-shaped. The tumultuous aftermath of her light trot was visible, and even that was enough to stir imaginations.

Lance chuckled and explained, "Sorry, I'm just here to exchange chips."

The bunny girl seemed disappointed. As one of the companions-at-play in the casino, if Lance were here to gamble,

she would just need to accompany him as he gambled, and regardless of whether he won or lost upon leaving, she would get a one percent commission from his settlements.

That was the source of income for all companions-at-play.

On a good night, they could earn a few hundred dollars.

But on a bad night, they could barely earn a few dollars.

Although disappointed, the girl still took the initiative to lead Lance to the counter and explain the situation.

The girl behind the counter placed a soft cushion covered with red velvet on it and said, "Please put the chips here, sir."

From the inside out, the entire casino gave Lance a sense that "this place is damn legit," be it the decor, service, or attitude.

Although he hadn't ventured into the main hall, he could imagine that it must be equally legit and luxurious.

"All together $150, sir. What denominations would you like to exchange for?"

These chips had their own anti-counterfeit markings, and in Port City, even throughout the entire Eastern Region of the Federation, no one dared to casually counterfeit them.

A small amount of counterfeit chips would likely not even cover the cost of production, and larger amounts would be hard to execute without leaving traces.

Although the Kodak family appeared to be just a casino-operating entity and a legally-taxpaying family business, in reality, they held a certain prestige in the underground world across the Federation.

This prestige was definitely not because they were relatively rich.

"Do you have five-dollar bills?" Lance asked.

"Yes, sir, please hold on." About two minutes later, the girl behind the counter counted out paper money in five-dollar denominations totaling one hundred fifty dollars three times, and placed it on the red velvet tray. She pressed it down with a chip that looked golden but was likely brass or alloy, then handed the tray with both hands to Lance.

"Sir, this is your money, please count it."

Quality service always enhanced customer satisfaction, and although Lance hadn't come here with the idea of gambling, at that moment, he made up his mind to bring others here for a visit sometime.

To show them the world and let them experience what "dazzled by wealth" truly felt like.

After leaving the casino, he picked up Elvin in his car and the two directly drove to Mr. Anderson's restaurant in the Bay Area.

It was noon, and the restaurant was bustling, with seventeen or eighteen tables fully occupied.

Guided by the manager, Lance and Elvin found a small table.

Shortly after, the waiter brought over the menu.

The moment Elvin opened the menu, he took in a sharp breath of cool air. He flipped through several pages, but it was very difficult to make a decision.

Because it was too expensive!

"A six-month-old Green veal rib costs seven dollars and ninety-eight cents, and adding a bread roll costs an extra dollar. If we add some other things, just the two of us this meal would cost... thirty to forty dollars!"

"Damn, with thirty to forty dollars, I could stuff myself at the beef sauce shop at the entrance of the port area!"

A lady at the next table couldn't help but snort with laughter, but immediately showed a remorseful expression and apologized.

In the port area, there are many people who do hard labor, and their demand for meat is much more significant than those who don't do hard labor.

Thus, near some heavy labor job sites in the port area, there are many stalls and restaurants that cater specifically to these laborers.

They can't really be called restaurants, they're more like fast-food places.

Their main sale is stewed soft beef sauce, deboned beef, all of it minced into tiny pieces, the very small kind.

This kind of beef isn't expensive. You can buy three pounds for a dollar.

After these vendors buy it, they add more sauces and a small amount of spices, then cook a whole pot in a big iron pot. The sauce is aromatic, and the meat's fragrance rich.

No matter who comes, sit down and give sixty cents, and you can get a big bowl!

If you give seventy cents, then you can eat bread until you're full.

Of course, don't expect the bread to be delicious—it's just edible!

Most physical laborers have a meal like this every two or three days to enjoy the pleasure of stuffing themselves with meat.

Especially the satisfaction of tearing those hard bread pieces into small pieces, soaking them in the meat soup, and swallowing them together with the meat and bread, is a feeling many find unforgettable!

These small shops and stalls do tremendously well; they're packed with people every day at noon.

Affordability is their killer technique.

Elvin couldn't help drooling and had eaten there a few times. He thought this might be the best food in the world, bar none!

Of course, bringing this up now was also because he was heartbroken about the money.

Lance had the restaurant waiter serve up two bowls of soup, then salads, steaks with fried sausages and bread rolls, and finally, dessert.

They didn't have wine since he would drive later, and they were both under twenty years old.

All these items together were already close to forty dollars, causing Elvin's expression to twist with heartache.

Lance was quite open-minded, "Someone will pick up the tab for us, don't worry about eating."

"It's not your place to feel bad."

Perhaps Lance's comfort had some effect; Elvin didn't feel so uncomfortable.

The restaurant was really doing very well; by half past twelve, it was already filled with people, and some patrons had to leave because there were no empty tables.

The entire restaurant was brimming with vitality.

As long as they could make money, even if the money didn't go to the waiters or cooks, they could still gain a morale boost from it.

Feeling happy about earning money for the capitalists is almost a universal "empathy ability" across all regions and ideologies in the world's lower social strata.

Although this empathy doesn't seem to hold much meaning.

It has to be said, the steaks worth nearly ten dollars indeed tasted much better than those minced beef pieces; skillfully prepared sauces made the entire steak a blissful experience.

At this moment, Elvin couldn't say these steaks were inferior to the minced beef; they were too delicious.

Just as they were about finished eating, Lance pulled a cockroach out of his pocket—a big cockroach—and handed it to Elvin, "Bite half."

Elvin looked at the cockroach, which was the size of a thumb, a bit dumbfounded, "What did you say?"

"I said bite half."

Looking at the cockroach still struggling in his hand, Elvin suddenly found the beef less appetizing, "So this is your plan?"

Lance nodded and repeated, "I need your true feedback. Don't worry, this is from a store by the roadside selling feed; it's healthy, clean, and sanitary."

Elvin psyched himself up for a while, cursed "Fack," then closed his eyes, shoved half the cockroach into his mouth, and bit down hard.

The lady at the next table was stunned!

Following that, Lance let Elvin, who was feeling nauseous, put half of it in his soup spoon, subtly mixing it with the thick soup, and spat the other half onto the table.

Then, looking at Elvin's ghastly pale face, he asked, "Feel like vomiting?"

Elvin honestly replied, "Yes."

"What are you waiting for then?"

"Gag..."