Tira had never been this nervous.
In her life, she had pitted her wits against brutal workhouse wardens, picked the pockets of wealthy men surrounded by bodyguards, and escaped the clutches of the police using nothing but smooth talk and vivid acting... but she had never been as nervous as she was now.
Because she was about to meet a mage.
That silver-haired man definitely knew magic. The dream Tira had was a hallucination created by magic; that was the only explanation that made everything make sense.
Tira stood nervously at the entrance of No. 114 Rue Lucheval. The shop had just begun renovations. Workers carried tools and building materials in and out, the original signage and wallpaper had been stripped away, and a faint haze of dust filled the air.
"Excuse me," Tira called out to a passing worker, "where is Mr. Lorne Dungeon?"
The police at the detention center had told her that the man who paid her bail was named Lorne Dungeon and that he had opened a shop in Lucheval Square. After thinking it over, Tira decided to see him. She didn't like owing people favors. Her father often said that money is easy to repay, but kindness is a debt that lasts a lifetime.
The worker pointed toward the back of the shop. Tira took a deep breath, mustered her courage, and walked in.
"...Yes, please follow the blueprints for construction. The storefront should be divided into two parts: this side is the specialty store, and this side is the experience store. Upstairs will be the customer service department."
The silver-haired "wizard" was holding a blueprint, speaking loudly with a black-haired young aristocrat and the foreman of the construction crew. They were all wearing strange masks. Seeing Tira, the silver-haired man handed the blueprints to the foreman and made a "pause" gesture. The foreman left them to go direct the workers.
"Ah, Miss Tira, welcome." The silver-haired wizard walked toward her. "Please put this on first." He handed a mask to the girl.
"What is this?"
"A dust mask. It prevents the inhalation of dust and effectively wards off occupational diseases like silicosis. I'm shocked these aren't common in the capital yet. These people don't understand the meaning of 'safety in production.'"
Tira knew about silicosis. The widow's husband had died of that very disease. They said when the doctor performed the autopsy, his lungs were as black as coal. She put the mask on immediately, eyeing her surroundings warily as if afraid a speck of dust might sneak into her lungs.
The wealthy young man beside them also had only his eyes visible, but he clearly looked bored, as if he didn't want to be in such a place.
The silver-haired wizard turned to Tira. His eyes crinkled into crescents, his red pupils full of mirth.
"I am Lorne Dungeon, the owner of this shop. This is Mr. Robinson; he works for the Minister of Commerce."
"Wow, so you're not just a rich boy, you're a high-ranking government official too?" Tira scrutinized Robinson. His hair and suit were covered in dust, making him look a bit disheveled—not nearly as imposing as when they first met.
Robinson stared at the girl in shock. It took a long moment before it clicked. "You! It's you! You're that flower girl! The thief!"
He quickly ducked behind Lorne, grabbing his arm and peeking out at Tira with half his face showing. He looked exactly like a schoolboy using a teacher as a shield to keep from being bullied by a bigger kid.
"Calm down, Mr. Robinson. She is my newly hired screen-mounter," Lorne said helplessly. "She will undergo training for a period of time. If she performs well, perhaps the entire screen-mounting and phone case counter will be hers to manage."
"You're hiring a thief?!" Robinson asked in disbelief.
"I paid her bail. I believe Miss Tira is willing to turn over a new leaf, aren't you?"
Tira folded her arms. "Yes." She glared at Robinson. "Don't worry, I promise to stay far away from you. My delicate skin is allergic to people like you."
"Do you hear her tone?!" Robinson shouted. "I'm not saying we shouldn't hire people with a record. I mean... your actions are admirable, and we should indeed give offenders a chance to reform, and providing more jobs helps lower the crime rate. But hiring this girl might damage your reputation! If the customers find out about her past..."
Lorne interrupted him. "This young lady lost her parents early, her property was snatched away, and she suffered abuse in the workhouse before ending up on the streets. During this process, not one person who was supposed to help her fulfilled their responsibility. That is this young lady's past."
Robinson was speechless. He simply glared at Lorne in frustration for a while before saying, "This is your choice, sir. If anything bad happens in the future, don't say I didn't warn you!"
"Thank you, Mr. Robinson. Your assistance has been more than enough. I will tell the Minister that you were very enthusiastic, very thorough, and capable of great responsibility."
Robinson's face became a palette of surprise, relief, gloom, and anger. He put on his top hat and left the shop without looking back.
Tira didn't quite understand the relationship between Robinson and Lorne, but she knew Lorne had taken a huge risk in hiring her. He might even have to endure public pressure and judgment. Many people intend to lend a hand, but they ultimately back out for fear of the consequences. There weren't many people like Lorne left.
"I imagine you didn't hire me to just stand here and chat," she said. "What should I be doing?"
Lorne said, "You will undergo training first. After a two-month probationary period, you will officially start. You'll also participate in company 'team-building' activities—it's like a spring outing, very relaxed and fun. Miss Ghoulsty will fill you in on the details."
"Oh. So where is this Miss Ghoulsty?"
"My name is Ghoulsty. I am an employee of Dungeon Entertainment, and I would like to publish an article in your esteemed paper."
At the office of the Capital Daily Dispatch, a woman wearing heavy makeup like a stage actress walked into the editor's office and stated her business bluntly.
The editor was currently racking his brain to revise an article about industrial diseases. It was a piece their reporter had spent six months undercover to write; the editor was confident it would cause a sensation once published, taking their sales to the next level. However, the article needed polishing to make the readers sympathize with the poor workers. The editor had been suffering from a headache over this for days.
When he looked up and saw the strangely dressed woman, he almost thought he had died of overwork and that she was the Reaper coming for him. He was certain he could see the scent of death on her.
"Sir. The article," the woman reminded him.
"Oh? Oh! You want to place an advertisement, right?" The editor finally reacted. "The advertising department is in the office at the left end of the corridor, first desk on the right..."
"I'm not here to buy a tiny square in the classifieds. I want to publish an article on your front page."
The woman pulled over a chair, sat down casually, and placed a stack of manuscripts on the desk.
The editor frowned. Almost every week, a "madman" or two would run into the newspaper office claiming they had big news and demanding the best layout. But those "big news" stories were either trivial matters or paranoid conspiracy theories. Usually, the editor would call a few strong lads to kick them out. But today's visitor was a lady. Throwing her out would be ungentlemanly and improper. Worse, it might actually become news.
Imagine the rival newspaper gleefully printing a front-page story: Scandal at the Daily Dispatch: Editor Beats Defenseless Woman. The Editor-in-Chief would skin him and turn his hide into gloves!
He would just have to talk her out of it.
"Miss Ghoulsty, our newspaper has regulations. Advertisements can only be published in the advertising section," he said.
"I can pay." Ghoulstytook out her wallet.
The editor immediately made a gesture of refusal. "No amount of money will do. It's the rule. Don't make it hard for me; I'm just an employee too."
"But I've visited many newspapers, and they were all very happy to publish my article. This isn't just an ad, sir—it's valuable news!"
"Then we definitely can't print it. If everyone is reporting it, it's not an exclusive."
Ghoulsty stood up abruptly. "I'm going to see your Editor-in-Chief."
"He's on vacation."
That wasn't a lie. The Editor-in-Chief really was on leave. He and his wife had gone to Norelia to celebrate their silver wedding anniversary. According to the plan, he should be back in a few days.
Ghoulsty didn't believe him and went to peek into the Editor-in-Chief's office. After confirming it was empty, her shoulders slumped in disappointment.
"I'm sorry, Miss, but my hands are tied." The editor was starting to feel a bit sympathetic.
"Fine. A few other papers have already agreed to publish it anyway; missing one won't matter." Ghoulsty seemed to give up, grabbing her bag to leave. Just then, her gaze fell upon the manuscript on the editor's desk.
The editor tried to cover it, but he was a step too late. Ghoulsty's quick hands had already snatched the top sheet.
"Miss, you can't read that!" he yelled in frustration. "You're violating our rights! This is an exclusive report, you can't—"
"You can't write it like this," Ghoulsty said.
"What?" The editor froze.
"This report! If you use this writing style, absolutely no one will want to read it!" Ghoulsty shook the paper, making it rustle. "Starting with 'On such-and-such a date, an accident occurred at such-and-such a factory.' So boring!"
The editor said, "Miss, that is how news is written! The most important information goes first, followed by the secondary information!"
Ghoulsty shook her head vigorously. "This is an in-depth report exposing industry secrets. You want to arouse the readers' curiosity and make them empathize! You should start from the perspective of a small character. First, describe his suffering and predicament to make the readers pity him, and then slowly unfold the reasons behind his trouble. For example—"
She thought for a moment, then recited in a low, melodious voice like a stage actress:
"On a cloudy day, Mrs. Rivers took her three children to the hospital to visit her husband. It was an unusual visiting group, for while her husband was still alive, she had already put on mourning clothes. She understood a sad truth in her heart: this was the last time she would see her husband, and the last time her children would see their father.
Just yesterday, the doctor announced that Mr. Rivers was beyond saving. This loyal husband, this kind and gentle father of three, was about to draw his last breath in the pulmonary ward. He couldn't even perform his final prayers or speak to his children; his lungs had become so fibrotic that he was unable to utter a word...
There were several other patients in the pulmonary ward with the same disease. They were all coworkers from the same factory. It wasn't a contagious disease, yet it was more terrifying than any plague..."
She stopped.
"Go on!" the editor urged.
He was completely entranced! Miss Ghoulsty was like an ancient bard, holding a harp and singing old ballads in a tavern, drawing the audience into the legends she wove.
"The next part describes how the disease is caused and why the factory doesn't provide protection for the workers. I shouldn't need to teach you that, right?" Ghoulsty said.
"I've never heard of news being written this way," the editor said in amazement. "Where did you learn this?"
"Oh, my boss taught me. He calls it the 'Wall Street Journal Style.' I've never heard of that journal, but I have to admit, the format is very effective."
She returned the manuscript to the editor and left the office with her bag.
For the rest of the day, following Ghoulsty's method, the editor revised the report from beginning to end. The more he wrote, the more inspired he became. This style was indeed more attractive, more capable of evoking resonance, and easier to expand upon, like a novel that went from the shallow to the deep...
By the time the editor snapped out of it, it was already dusk. He stretched and went to the break room to pour himself a cup of coffee. Just then, he heard a commotion outside.
"I'm back, dear colleagues! I brought souvenirs for everyone! One for each of you, don't push!"
The Editor-in-Chief walked into the editorial department carrying bags of all sizes, distributing gifts to the staff. The editor received one too—a snow globe that "snowed" when shaken vigorously.
"You're back earlier than scheduled." The editor slowly shook the snow globe.
"Couldn't be helped, duty calls!" The Editor-in-Chief picked up the editor's coffee cup and drained it. The editor looked at him awkwardly.
"I have something for you to do," the Editor-in-Chief said. "Do you remember Grace? The girl who used to intern with us."
The editor nodded. "Didn't she resign and go back to her hometown?"
"She's now an editor and reporter for the Norelia Herald. I ran into her during my trip." The Editor-in-Chief's cheeks flushed with excitement. "In the last quarter of last year, her newspaper's sales tripled! Guess how she did it?"
"Please, enlighten me."
The Editor-in-Chief lowered his voice as if discussing state secrets. "The Herald exclusively published several interviews with Dungeon Entertainment, along with 'walkthroughs' for Magic Games—that's the most important part! Readers almost tore each other apart for those walkthroughs! Grace told me that Dungeon Entertainment is coming to the capital to open a branch. Other newspapers don't know the importance of walkthroughs yet; I've seized the initiative! Assign a few people to interview the owner, and then study their games. Grace agreed to let us reprint her walkthroughs, but we also need to come up with something special to publish on the day the Magic Slates go on sale to rake in the sales..."
The editor's face turned from green to white. What was the first thing that strangely dressed Ghoulsty had said? "I am an employee of Dungeon Entertainment"?
He had actually missed such a golden opportunity to make a fortune!
He could have earned an advertising fee first, then established a good relationship with Ghoulsty to get exclusive interviews and internal walkthroughs, and even had her continue to guide him on that "Journal style" writing. Not only would this bring sales to the paper, but he would also get a promotion and a raise.
But he had stupidly rejected this heaven-sent opportunity!
Now the only things he was likely to get were a scolding from the Editor-in-Chief and a "World's Greatest Fool" trophy!
"What's wrong, buddy? Stomach ache?" The Editor-in-Chief observed the editor's expression.
"I... I just remembered I have to visit a contributor!" The editor quickly rushed back to his office and grabbed his coat. "That report on silicosis is almost finished! Goodbye!"
The Editor-in-Chief watched him leave. "Wow, he's really driven. Maybe I should promote him." He picked up the manuscript on the editor's desk and read, "On a cloudy day, Mrs. Rivers..."
Twenty minutes later, the editors heard intermittent sobbing coming from the office.
"This is brilliantly written! Truly heart-wrenching! Someone, pass this around! Everyone must read, observe, and learn from this!"
While Tira met "Miss Ghoulsty" and learned how to mount screen protectors under her guidance, several monsters also arrived from Norelia.
They traveled on a human-made "Steel Hollow Wheeled Worm" (in the Wolf language), arriving in the capital after a sleepless journey of over ten hours. They were to take over the work here as "senior executives sent from the main branch."
However, their first task after arriving in the capital wasn't to enthusiastically direct the employees, but... to argue.
"Ladies and gentlemen, you cannot gather here! If you continue this, I will call the police!"
Wolf looked down at the dozen or so men and women holding signs in front of the shop, roaring in a voice like a great bell. His brawny physique should have carried an intimidating pressure, yet the group showed no fear; instead, they seemed to have their fighting spirit stirred.
"Oh? Then go ahead! Call the police and let them see what kind of terrifying shop you're opening here!"
"Exactly! Magic games—haven't you read the papers? Magic has radiation! What about the customers? What about the neighboring shopkeepers? How are we supposed to do business?"
"Big guy, why are you yelling so loud? You think a loud voice makes you special? What, you want to hit me?"
Veins bulged on Wolf's forehead. He raised his fist, thought about it, and then lowered it. This wasn't because he was broad-minded or possessed high endurance, but simply because he didn't want to cause trouble for Lord Lorne.
These people were all nearby shop owners. As soon as they heard a "Magic Game Specialty Store" was opening in Lucheval Square, they had come to protest in a state of collective outrage.
Such a thing would never happen in Norelia. Norelia, after all, was the site of the Mage's Tower. People knew the power and terror of magic; no matter how fearful or angry they were, they didn't dare act up in front of an actual mage. Besides, if every morning you woke up to the sight of a black tower piercing the clouds, you'd eventually develop immunity and become accustomed to it.
But the people of the capital were different. They hadn't seen a real mage with their own eyes in a long time. The "magic" in their eyes was the juggling of street performers, the magic tricks of theater actors, and the long-ago stories and legends in books. The era of heroes had long passed, and everyone had forgotten what kind of power magic truly was.
Oh, it was a terrifying thing, of course. But there were plenty of things even more terrifying. The well-traveled people of the capital weren't afraid of retaliation from a mage. Compared to being turned into a frog in the middle of the night, they were more worried about customers not showing up and themselves not making money.
"Tell your owner to come out!" the protesters shouted.
"Yes! Tell him to come out! He must give us an explanation!"
"Unless this is resolved, don't even think about opening!"
If this group had appeared at the entrance of the Dark Dungeon, Wolf could guarantee he'd send them to meet the gods one by one with a single punch. But this wasn't the Dark Dungeon, nor was it even Norelia. This was the human capital. In human society, hitting people meant going to the police station.
So the hitting must be done when there are no witnesses, Wolf thought secretly. Creep up silently and put a sack over their heads. Fast and safe.
"Please calm down, ladies and gentlemen!" After reciting the above sentence a hundred times in his mind, Wolf shouted with a stiff face, "Our boss is not in the shop. If you have anything to say, I can relay it to him! One by one, please write your opinions and suggestions in this notebook!"
Wolf wasn't lying to them. Lorne really wasn't in the shop.
To be precise, he was currently located underground beneath the shop.
Lucheval Square was not only one of the busiest commercial districts in the capital, but it also sat atop the city's ancient sewers.
About half a century ago, a great plague broke out in Royal City. A young scholar proposed that the plague was spread through water sources. The city's sewage system was too old, such that domestic sewage contaminated the drinking water. Since then, the government had spent a fortune building a brand-new sewer system, and the plague indeed never broke out again.
The old sewers were naturally abandoned, the outlets blocked, and they became a forgotten existence.
Lorne chose to open a shop in Lucheval Square not only for the foot traffic but also for its geographical location—referring to the location of the sewers.
The capital branch was not only a window for selling Magic Slates but also an important node in the magic network. He wanted to place the dungeon's sub-core in a secret and safe place. The abandoned old sewers perfectly met his requirements. To some extent, the intricate sewers also shared some similarities with a dungeon.
While the shop above ground was being renovated, construction was also proceeding underground, racing against the clock. Every night, Lorne used magic to dig and move bricks here, reinforcing the shop's underground level.
By today, the Core Hall used to house the sub-core was finally completed. Gusty, Selena, Puji, and several low-level monsters transferred from the Dark Dungeon stood in a circle, looking at Lorne in the center with awe.
He held a ruby about the size of a fist, its exquisitely carved facets reflecting the face of every monster.
Lorne recited an incantation and lifted the gem. Under the influence of magic, it rose slowly, floating in the air.
Suddenly, a brilliant light burst forth, as if a red sun was rising from underground. The monsters covered their stinging eyes but couldn't help but gasp in admiration. The light signaled that the sub-core had connected with the mother core, and both sides could now share magic!
"We are probably the first dungeon to put a sub-core in the human capital!" Selena couldn't hide her excitement. "If other dungeons found out, they'd die of jealousy!"
Another monster said, "Come to think of it, are there any 'other' dungeons left? Haven't heard news of them in a long time; they probably all died out, right?"
The monsters all nodded in agreement. "Only our Dark Dungeon has made a comeback under Lord Lorne's leadership! Long live Lord Lorne!"
"Lord Lorne, your magic is boundless!"
Lorne raised his hand to stop the monsters' erupting flattery and pointed upward. The monsters immediately fell silent.
The door leading underground creaked open, and someone climbed down the iron ladder.
Once the person entered the range of the red light, the monsters saw that it was Wolf.
Selena asked with her hands on her hips, "Stupid dog, why aren't you upstairs guarding the house? Why'd you run down here? Aren't you looking after the shop?"
Wolf shot her a look, then turned respectfully to Lorne. "Lord, that group of human shopkeepers is back to protest again."
Lorne sighed. "They really are persistent. Wouldn't it be better if they applied that persistence to their own businesses?"
Selena sneered. "Humans are like that. They aren't necessarily keen on things that benefit themselves, but they're exceptionally enthusiastic about things that harm others."
Gusty said, "Lord Lorne, do you think someone is instigating this behind the scenes? Why don't we go to the Minister of Commerce again and ask him to find a way?"
"Or just go to the Marshal!" Selena said. "Have him send the army. I don't believe those shopkeepers aren't afraid of soldiers."
Lorne shook his head. "Do you want to scare away all the customers? Go and do as I say. Give each of the protesting shop owners a pot of Purple Sea Buckthorn, and tell them that it can absorb radiation. Tell them they must place it at their shop entrance. Gusty, go and send the 'Magic Inventor Gust' articles to all the newspaper offices and make sure every one of them has read it. That way, those shopkeepers won't have a reason to protest."
Gusty looked troubled. "But Lord Lorne, they might not protest openly, but they might continue to slander us in private."
Lorne said, "Those shopkeepers have been operating in Lucheval Square for a long time; some have even had shops here for generations. They formed a stable small group long ago. It's difficult for newcomers like us to contend with them for a while. To make them back down, there is only one way: to let them fall into internal chaos first."
Selena's eyes lit up. "Instigating internal conflict! That's my favorite!"
"Then do as I say. Go and lobby those shopkeepers who don't have Purple Sea Buckthorn at their doors to place advertisements with us. The first week can be discounted. Let them get a taste of the sweetness. Gradually, they will learn the benefits of cooperating with us. As for those protesting shop owners..."
"I know! We won't cooperate with them! Let them go cry!" Wolf blurted out.
"No," Lorne smiled, "we will cooperate... selectively."