Empire of Shadows

"Now, the most important thing is to figure out a way to get that woman to drop the case, otherwise Ethan can only forever hide in the corner."

"Once caught, it will be troublesome!"

Lance had already been considering how to deal with this matter, and after a month here, he had clearly realized that the Federation people were unreliable.

Being rootless, these fellow countrymen from the Empire could perhaps become a critical force.

"There are two methods, the first method, we try to borrow some money to shut this person up and get him to drop the case."

"The second method, if we cannot borrow money, is to try to persuade him."

After listening, Elvin felt it was unlikely, "These are not good methods at all, from where can we borrow money and how much can we get, these are all problems!"

Just arrived for a month, unfamiliar with life here, and did not bring much money.

Most people took great effort from their families to come here, almost emptying every family's foundation.

Now, many fishermen no longer fish and specialize in transporting people from the shore to the high seas and then onto smuggling boats.

The entire smuggling journey costs about 1,500 dollars, which is a hard sum for a normal family to afford.

Moreover, families back in the Empire still need to live and have some funds for emergencies, so most people who smuggled here didn't have much money.

When Lance disembarked, he had less than five dollars, and others were similar.

The most anybody had was perhaps a few tens of dollars.

Elvin was somewhat annoyed, "The problem is where can we possibly borrow so much money?"

Lance asked him to wait a bit and returned to the bakery to discuss taking leave with the fat boss—

"My fellow countryman is in trouble, I need to go and see the situation, so I might not be in the shop this afternoon."

The fat boss sat behind the counter puffing on a smoking pipe, his eyes squished small by his fat and pitch black, only the pupils visible, like two buttons stitched onto an overbaked loaf of bread.

He sized up Lance, "Taking leave is fine, but I'll fine you one yuan, and you must return before five o'clock, otherwise, it will be two dollars."

"If because of your absence tonight we sell less than yesterday, you have to cover this part of the loss since it's caused by you."

Lance looked at the fat boss, who fearlessly met his gaze, "I know you hate me, and I quite enjoy seeing you hate me without being able to do anything about it."

He tapped his smoking pipe against the corner of the table and pointed at Lance, "If you run away or don't come back, I'll call the police and say you've stolen from the shop, do you understand what I mean?"

Lance remained very humble, even managing a smile, "I think I understand, boss."

The fat boss snickered with contempt, "Then get out, I want to see you behind the counter before five o'clock."

"By the way, you currently owe me four dollars, and I'm going to charge you interest. By the end of this month, if you haven't paid this money, it will become four dollars and sixty cents..."

Fifteen percent monthly interest, one hundred eighty percent annually, outright murder!

Sometimes, when people stand at the edge of a cliff, they feel an impulse to jump down, some restrain this inexplicable urge, but others take that step.

Lance was silent for a while and did not refuse, "I'll remember that, boss."

The fat boss, unable to find any more sense of superiority or amusement from Lance, waved his hand impatiently, "Go away."

After taking off his apron, Lance left with Elvin, their little group was not far away, totaling about twelve or thirteen people.

They were squatting in the shady part of the alley, and when Lance arrived, everyone stood up, greeting him with an anxious tone.

"I have five dollars here, how much have we all pooled together?"

A guy named Melo took out a white-washed handkerchief from his pocket, which seemed heavy with a bundle inside.

Upon opening, it was mostly coins, surprisingly including two two-dollar bills.

In this strange environment, during a crisis, this cohesion among the group let Lance see "power" brewing, like a seed in dark soil, bound to break through the ground one day.

"Including yours, we have seventy-seven dollars."

The young men showed strange expressions hearing the amount.

In this period, inflation in the Federation wasn't severe, with an upward economy, the purchasing power of money was strong; seventy-seven dollars was indeed not a small amount.

But it was still a bit short of two hundred dollars.

"Does anyone know where the closest finance company is?"

After careful consideration, Lance decided to borrow some money at high interest.

Although usury was dreadful, if everyone contributed together for the repayment, considering fourteen people, even at fifteen percent monthly interest, each would actually only bear one percent of one hundred fifty dollars, just a bit more than one dollar fifty in interest each person.

If they were willing to pay back both principal and interest, then each person would only need to contribute three dollars each month, and in less than half a year, they could repay the debt.

He discussed this with his friends, and ultimately, everyone thought it was an appropriate choice, although it might tighten their financial situation.

But having worked for a month, they were gradually getting familiar with their jobs and everything here.

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They knew where they could find shelter to sleep, and when and where they could get free, costless relief food.

They also knew when and where, if lucky, they could obtain some old clothes.

As long as you lived in the Federation long enough, there would always be a way.

Moreover, recent news and newspapers had been saying that Congress might soon sign a bill related to black immigrants.

By then, they would be able to register with the Immigration Bureau and get their own work cards.

At that time, the money they earned would be entirely theirs, and it might not be long before they could pay off all their debts.

Lance led the way, followed by a dozen or so young people around eighteen or nineteen years old, into a financial company.

There were many financial companies in the Federation, especially in a rapidly developing economic city like Golden Port City.

Ninety-nine percent of Federation people harbored the federal dream; many had witnessed ordinary people just like them seize an opportunity they might also qualify for, rapidly rising from ordinary classes to the middle class or even capitalists, at which point people nearly went mad!

Miracles happened every day, and the media extensively reported all these events as if miracles and the Federation had become an equation, crafting the idea and motivation for Federation people to strive and start businesses.

Starting a business without money meant turning to a bank wasn't too convenient.

Banks, to reduce loan risks, would require loaners to have real estate or collateral and would only lend sixty percent of the market value.

Strict audits and tough lending conditions blocked many people's entrepreneurial paths, but the roadside financial companies did not operate this way.

As long as they could be sure you had the ability, or you had something worth the money, they dared lend it to you.

Indeed, some people borrowed money and didn't return it, but these individuals ultimately ended up inside oil drums, becoming the foundation of the port.

If someone was willing to trade their life for a few hundred, thousand, or ten thousand dollars, the financial companies had no choice but to accept the loss.

The only thing they could do was bear the loss and then kill you!

Of course, those who could really take this step were few; the desire to survive is the strongest of human desires, without a doubt.

Therefore, in this period, around the port and in every street and alley, there were almost only financial companies.

Lance randomly chose one that looked a bit larger; the Gatekeeper blocked their path, "This isn't a club, if you're looking for girls, go across the street."

Facing so many young people, the Gatekeeper was unsure what they were here for precisely, and for safety and deterrence, his hand rested on his waist, slightly lifting his coat to reveal a barely visible holster and the pistol inside.

The pistol, gleaming with metallic luster, was inserted in the holster, causing some companions to immediately step back, while others struggled to speak out of nervousness.

Lance, however, appeared calm; without hatred, nobody would shoot him.

Even if he was a black immigrant.

In murder cases, the victims are not distinguished as being black or non-black immigrants.

"We want to borrow some money."

The Gatekeeper looked at Lance, thinking he might be more reliable, "You, plus one more person go in, the rest wait outside."

Lance turned and glanced back; although most people did not step back, none took the initiative to step forward.

After about three to five seconds, Elvin stood up, "I'll go with you."

Lance nodded, the Gatekeeper stepped aside, and he and Elvin entered the company, while the others were required to wait outside.

The company's decoration was luxurious, but it was not very large.

Upon entering, there was a reception desk, where a pretty young girl was fixing her nails.

She glanced at the incoming people, then returned her focus to her nails.

Lance approached the reception, knocking on the desk, "I'd like to borrow some money."

"Walk straight to the end and turn left; there's only one room," the girl said without lifting her head.

Lance smirked, leading Elvin inside.

Elvin seemed nervous, so Lance did not speak to him; sometimes distracting oneself does not relieve anxiety but makes it worse.

The corridor was not long, with offices on both sides, but the people inside looked less like office workers and more like thugs.

Each person's gaze lingered on the two; Lance could clearly feel Elvin tensing up right behind him.

These heavily tattooed, burly men looking vicious made Elvin lower his head, but Lance didn't find anything fearful.

Walking to the end and turning left, a door marked "Manager's Office" appeared; Lance knocked, and a voice from inside responded, "Come in."

He pushed the door open, a guy who looked somewhat proper, dressed in formal attire with a tie, sat behind the desk.

He appeared to be in his early thirties; he first was taken aback, then invited the two to sit down.

"Would you like something to drink?"

"Water, thank you."

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