Empire of Shadows

On Monday morning, Mr. Anderson got up early, including apprentices, cooks, and waiters, all of whom were requested to arrive at the restaurant earlier than usual.

Last night, he had found someone to help him make a sign—

Due to the restaurant's booming business, the maximum dining time was two hours. Should the dining time exceed two hours, the restaurant reserved the right to ask customers to settle the bill and leave.

Also, for customers arriving alone, in the event of a shortage of available tables, the restaurant reserved the right to ask single customers to share a table with other single customers.

There was another rule: the restaurant reserved the right to refuse service to certain suspicious-looking customers.

That was essentially what the sign conveyed. It was large and erected at the main entrance.

Anderson had been keeping watch since the early morning, yet Lance did not show up, nor did anything out of the ordinary happen.

Monday is an important day for people. Those working in offices receive their assignments for the upcoming week from their superiors and prepare for these tasks.

In factories, on assembly lines, today marks the restart of the line after a day or two of rest.

The workers need to keep a close eye on changes on the assembly line, and the workshop managers also need to shake the workers out of their holiday lethargy with tense work.

And for those doing heavy physical labor at docks or in warehouses, after the weekend inventory is over, this morning sees a heavy influx and outflow of transport vehicles at the port, leaving them so busy they can barely straighten their backs.

Most people are busy. By lunchtime, the restaurant had served four tables of customers, totaling up to less than sixty dollars—

Although this is a mid-to-high-end restaurant, not all the food is expensive.

For a set meal, two people could order a main course, such as a cheaper fish and steak combo, or simply a regular steak, topped off with a soup starter, and it would cost no more than ten dollars in total.

The special thing about mid-to-high-end restaurants is that one can spend little money here, but also have the opportunity to spend a lot.

In the evening, business was fair, with nine tables bringing in a hundred and thirty-three dollars. Based on the gross profit, today could only be described as barely breaking even, with a loss of about fifteen to twenty dollars.

This was typically the case every Monday, so Mr. Anderson wasn't surprised.

He thought that Lance, that little rat, was just talking big, and with his absence today, Anderson slightly relaxed his guard.

What he didn't know was that Lance was also aware that business was slow on Mondays, so he had planned his "next move" for Tuesday.

On Tuesday morning, Mr. Anderson still got up early. Today was the day for the workers to have their group dinner—after not seeing each other over the weekend, they had lots to talk about, sharing where they went for fun, while having a meal to maintain their relationships.

Today's business would be a bit better than Monday.

Until eleven o'clock, he hadn't seen anyone coming over to take a table by themselves. He happily wiped down the sign at the entrance with a cloth.

In an alley diagonally across the street, Lance stood at an inconspicuous alley entrance, watching Mr. Anderson and his restaurant.

"That's the one across... Yes, someone is wiping down a sign," Lance withdrew his gaze, looking at the people around him.

Each of them emitted an unpleasant smell, a group of vagrants.

Last night, Lance had found these people and treated them to a good meal with beef, pork, and refined pasta.

These foods ensured that the excrement they would produce would be very smelly, and now was the time they needed to defecate.

Lance carried a bucket filled with water in his hand, water that had been mixed with a laxative—a very potent laxative that required only about ten minutes to make a person uncontrollably release.

That morning, Lance had them drink a lot of the watery substance to ensure the best effect.

It was almost eleven, not long before the restaurant would start receiving customers. Lance first poured a cup full of the laxative solution, handing it to the first vagrant.

"Go to the entrance of their restaurant, do it on the ground, then head to the alley we agreed upon, and someone will give you two dollars."

"If you can do something utterly disgusting, I can give you an extra yuan," he looked back at the group of homeless men, "It's the same for you all, two dollars, with an extra yuan added on if you do it well."

The first homeless man was already close to fifty years old, his hair clumped together, and occasionally, little cockroaches could be seen crawling out from underneath it and then back again.

His dark, dirty face made it hard to tell whether he was originally a cotton picker before ending up on the streets, or if he'd always been this black.

"Don't worry, Mr. Lance, I'll make sure they feel like vomiting all day long when they remember this!" He patted his chest, grinning with a mouthful of yellow teeth that was extremely nauseating to look at, but Lance appreciated him for being foul enough!

After saying this, he picked up the laxative and gulped it down in one go; it tasted somewhat strange, and then he stood there silently.

About ten minutes later, he suddenly clutched his stomach, "Here it comes, here it comes, Mr. Lance, I need to...hiss...go now!"

Lance promptly poured the second cup of laxative into the glass, handing it to the second man.

By this time, two tables of customers had already started to enter the restaurant, and Mr. Anderson felt a sense of relief, thinking that today would be another peaceful day.

But just as he returned to the breakroom to rest—these past few days he'd been waking up early and sleeping late, and his mood was not good, leaving him feeling exhausted—the one thing he needed most now was rest.

He hadn't even lain down when he faintly heard the manager shouting loudly.

He froze for a moment, then with a start, scrambled out toward the entrance.

The instant he stepped out of the restaurant, an intense stench nearly made him faint!

The sun was scorching, making the foul smell even more unbearable.

At the entrance of the restaurant, a homeless man was arguing with the manager while smearing the excrement in his hand onto the freshly cleaned signboard of Mr. Anderson's.

"Aren't you going to clean this mess up?!"

He glanced at the homeless man smearing feces on the signboard and almost couldn't help vomiting immediately!

"Call the police... ugh, call the police!"

The homeless man, who had been arguing with the manager, heard the restaurant was about to call the police, took to his heels, letting out a fart before he ran, and also sprayed another mess at the entrance of the restaurant.

Just then, three customers who had been walking towards the restaurant changed their minds upon seeing the filth on the ground, unable to bear it, and crossed the street to the restaurant opposite.

Mr. Anderson, shouting loudly, had apprentices fetch two buckets of water to wash away the mess on the ground and then scrubbed it thoroughly with a brush.

"It all happened so suddenly... He ran over here, pulled down his pants, stuck out his bum, and then..." The manager shivered as if recalling something horrific.

"...with a loud thud, I almost thought his intestines were going to burst out."

Mr. Anderson felt slightly better, but then began to feel nauseated again, "Clean it up thoroughly!"

He and the manager moved aside, the manager continued, "I told him not to defecate at our entrance. Then I don't know what happened to him. He tripped, and then you saw...he accused me of pushing him..."

Mr. Anderson's face was extremely ugly, as yet another table of customers suddenly changed their dining decision.

But the manager was still worried, "Could this be a new trick of theirs?"

Mr. Anderson became unsettled after hearing this, "Get a couple more waiters to keep an eye out, if any more homeless come close..."

He hadn't finished speaking when suddenly another homeless man dashed across from the opposite side of the road, just like the first one, running while stripping off his pants. What made them even more terrified was that upon reaching the sidewalk, this homeless man aimed his butt at them!

Some bystanders on the roadside stared in disbelief, watching everything unfold, and the apprentice walking in the front slowly turned around, only to start retching violently.

Mr. Anderson was cursing while he felt nauseated.

This goddamn piece of shit, it must be that bastard's doing!