Empire of Shadows

Chapter 8 : I know a lot of people

A busy day.

On weekends, the bakery always got particularly hectic. The weekend rush boosted sales as people stocked up on two or three days' worth of bread, preferring to stay in or go on outings during the increasingly hot weather.

In the Federation, entertainment options were limited. For most people, watching TV and going for a walk in the countryside were among the few inexpensive forms of amusement.

Places like bars, opera houses, and nightclubs were beyond their budget, and so were amusement parks—too crowded and pricey.

Ironically, it’s precisely those who couldn’t afford luxuries that kept the economy going. Reality can be stranger than fiction.

It was a little after 8 p.m. when business finally slowed down. Surprisingly, tonight’s dinner was pizza.

Pizza had been in the Federation for about fifty or sixty years, evolving from a small community’s “hometown delicacy” to a popular food. It had gone through significant localization along the way.

In fact, pizza’s popularity in the Federation had grown so much that many believed it originated there, and other regions that had pizza even earlier began to adopt the Federation’s styles and flavors.

That’s one of the main reasons people admired the Federation’s economy—everyone wanted to emulate the strongest economy.

This pizza was packed with cheese nearly spilling over, sausage and beef cubes piled high, and topped with slices of ham.

The chubby bakery owner treated the ham like a prized possession. Each night before closing, he’d personally check the storeroom to make sure all the ham was safe.

Though Fordis thought the bakery’s “Musu ham” wasn’t authentic, it was still worth the $499 it cost for the whole 55-pound block.

Selling ham was more profitable than selling bread. One 50-gram serving sold for $2.50, so a whole ham brought in about $1,250.

Yet, only a few customers splurged on ham. Most people couldn’t, or wouldn’t, spend that much. Even spending $2.50 for a few slices gave them pause.

There was also a cheaper option, a ham that sold for a dollar a serving. It wasn’t as flavorful, but it was affordable and made the bakery the most profit.

The ham, roasted over charcoal, released an indescribably complex aroma mixed with the scents of melted cheese, sausage, beef, and baked dough. Lance had to admit, when it came to making pizza, Johnny was a pro.

"Have a seat, Lance."

Lance, who was mopping the floor, whistled, took off his apron, and sat at the table.

The bakery owner's daughter glanced at her father and then at Lance, blushing with excitement.

But the boss didn’t notice; he was focused on Lance.

"Want some?"

"You’re not going to charge me extra, are you?" Lance asked, not touching the pizza.

The owner looked a bit embarrassed. "Is that really how you see me?"

"I know I’m strict with you, but you can’t deny that you get food, drink, and a job here."

Lance interjected, "And owe you four bucks."

The boss’s face turned stern. "I was just joking. Don’t you have any sense of humor?"

Just then, the sweaty apprentice came out from the back room.

With the weather heating up, work was getting tougher. The bakery’s ovens were like mini-suns, radiating lethal heat.

In fact, summer newspaper articles often reported bakers fainting by their ovens—a measure of how hot the summer was.

Having changed his clothes and wiped his hands, the apprentice was about to sit down when the boss looked up at him. "What are you doing here?"

The apprentice looked at the fragrant pizza, stammering, "I... you said we were having this for dinner."

The boss pointed at Lance, his daughter, and himself. "We."

Then he pointed at the apprentice. "You."

"'We' and 'you'—are they the same thing?"

"I wonder if your elementary school teacher had water on the brain to have taught you this way. Your dinner’s in the back cabinet, you know, yesterday’s bread."

The leftover bread was rock-hard, saved every day for their dinner.

The apprentice looked stunned. He couldn’t believe that Lance got to sit at the table while he, a local apprentice who worked unpaid and even paid ten bucks a month to learn, couldn’t have a slice of pizza.

He glared at the boss, but the boss didn’t budge. "If you don’t like it, you can leave. Just don’t let your mother come begging me on her knees later!"

That hit a nerve. The apprentice, who had been clenching his fists in defiance, suddenly deflated like a spineless creature.

With his head hung low, he turned back toward the kitchen. That was his place—not here.

Lance grabbed a slice. This cheesy, meaty pizza was the best meal he’d had since arriving here.

He took a bite. His teeth first crunched through the crispy, oily ham, then the sausage, still soft on the inside but crisp on the surface.

Then came the gooey cheese, exploding with rich, creamy flavor like a volcanic eruption. Beef cubes crushed under his bite, each taste bud firing from the distinct texture!

As he swallowed, the pizza’s dough released a unique wheat aroma mingled with basil and other spices. This pizza was an absolute masterpiece!

He wolfed down every bit, even the crust, then reached for another slice.

The boss’s eye twitched. He’d invited Lance to dinner mainly to figure out who’d given him that ride earlier.

If it was someone he couldn’t afford to offend, he’d back down. As a low-level member of society trying to rise, he knew his place.

In operas, anyone challenging authority ended up as a mere historical footnote.

Only nobility or those with privilege could successfully avenge themselves.

People had long understood that the poor were fated for tragedy, while happy endings belonged to the elite—

The enlightened king, the joyful princess, the fallen noble realizing his dreams, and the poor young man crushed by society’s rules!

People knew this all along but kept encouraging poor young men to daydream.

Though the bakery owner was wealthy in some people’s eyes, he was still at the bottom of this society.

Lance grabbed another slice, eating heartily, and just as he reached for a third, the boss stopped him. "If you like it that much, take your time—the rest is yours."

"But could you satisfy a little curiosity of mine?"

Lance licked his lips, savoring the lingering taste of meat and cheese.

He pushed away the boss’s hand, grabbed the third slice, and said, "In the Empire, there’s a custom to avoid talking while eating. It’s a sign of manners."

"Whatever you want to discuss, wait until after dinner."

Seeing he couldn’t stop him, the boss hurriedly grabbed two slices, giving one to his daughter and stuffing the other in his mouth.

In seconds, all three were racing to eat faster.

In under five minutes, all that was left of the large pizza were crumbs.

Lance pressed his finger on the plate, gathering up the crumbs and licking them off.

When not a single crumb was left, he patted his stomach with satisfaction. A cigarette would’ve been perfect right now.

"So, what was it you wanted to ask?"

The boss repeated his question. "The guy who brought you back this afternoon—you’re close with him?"

Lance didn’t lie. "We get along. I know his boss."

"Wait, he has a boss?" The owner’s eyes widened in shock.

In his mind, Fordis, dressed sharply and driving a luxury car, was already part of high society. The idea that Fordis had a boss, who Lance actually knew, was mind-blowing.

He regretted all the terrible things he’d done to Lance without knowing his background.

If that person decided to retaliate...

He couldn’t imagine it!

But curiosity also tugged at him, making him wonder about this mysterious boss. Maybe he’d made a mistake exploiting Lance.

Or, maybe this could be his big break—an introduction to someone powerful!

Leaning forward with a flattering smile, he asked, "So, your friend’s boss..."

Lance sipped his coffee, surprised to find it wasn’t the usual bitter stuff. The coffee’s rich oils thoroughly coated every sip, letting him savor its full charm.

After taking a big sip, he set down his cup, burping contentedly. "You know, my friend had some trouble this afternoon, and I needed to raise two hundred bucks fast."

"I don’t know any big shots around here, so I went to a Finance Company nearby."

"Finance Company?" The boss already had a bad feeling, but he had to confirm it.

Lance nodded seriously. "Yeah, a Finance Company. I borrowed three hundred bucks. He drove me back to make sure I had a job—just so he could find me if necessary..."

The boss’s eyes turned red with anger, and he glared at Lance, gritting his teeth as he spat out his name—

"Lance! Go mop that floor again!"

"And that pizza? Five bucks! You now owe me nine dollars!"

"If it’s not done by nine o’clock, you can sleep outside!"

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