Royal City, the capital, sat at a lower latitude than Norelia, and spring arrived early there. After a few gentle spring rains, flowers bloomed in every nook and cranny of the city. The Chimal Paulownia trees along the roads erupted in white, pink, and purple blossoms; viewed from above, every street looked like a stream covered in petals.
Renovations on the branch were complete. The newly hired staff had finished their training and were standing by, ready to work at a moment's notice.
The joints of the major newspapers had been greased by Miss Gusty—or rather, Bone-ster. Though its aesthetic sense was "underworld" to say the least, its talent for writing promotional materials was decent. It would grumble about how vulgar the wording was while industriously churning out those very same vulgar articles.
The cost of sending press releases to major newspapers was staggering, but it was worth every penny.
This era was the golden age of print media. Movies had just entered the era of sound and color, radio was not yet widespread, and television was a fuzzy concept in the minds of engineers. Newspapers were the undisputed backbone of mass media—the primary channel for information and entertainment.
The development of compulsory education and increased literacy had added millions of readers. Major newspaper syndicates became capital giants, possessing the power to sway the political landscape.
The effect of the press releases was obvious just by looking at the crowds queuing in front of the shop.
Lucheval Square had always been a symbol of the city that never sleeps. Restaurants, bars, clubs, and nightspots open until dawn ensured the night was no less lively than the day. Yet, the clamor tonight far exceeded anyone's imagination.
A sea of people surged in front of the Magic Game Specialty Store.
Even with the doors shut tight, people refused to leave. They brought tents, sleeping bags, stools, and even simple cooking gear, lining up in aisles separated by red ropes, waiting to be the first to rush in the moment the doors opened.
The crowd was so massive that the police department had to deploy patrolmen to watch the area. They clutched their nightsticks, eyeing the shop sign with deep distrust, as if it weren't selling games but gunpowder that might explode at any second.
A young man pushing his grandmother's wheelchair passed through the square. He stared at the mountain of people in amazement. "Grandma, do you see that? I've seen shop queues before, but never anything like this. Stay alive long enough and you'll see some weird things."
The elderly woman, with snow-white hair and frail legs, glanced over listlessly. Suddenly, she jumped up, her wrinkled, age-spotted finger trembling as she pointed at the shop.
"It's a medical miracle, Grandma!" the grandson cried out in joy.
But the old woman was full of terror. "I've seen this! I know this! War is coming! Everyone is hoarding food!" She clutched her grandson's clothes. "Go get in line, child! Or you'll starve to death!"
"Grandma, calm down! That's not a grain shop, it's a toy store!"
The old woman ignored him, muttering to herself, "Times are changing... everything is about to change..."
This small episode went unnoticed by the crowd. But much later, when the citizens of Royal City recalled this event, they truly believed it was a herald of history's wheels rolling toward an unimagined path.
The unusual night passed quickly. Dawn broke over the neatly paved streets of the square. The city woke up bit by bit. The Golden Bell Tower of Royal City struck six times, then seven, then eight...
When the bell struck nine, the exhausted people who had queued all night fixed their eyes simultaneously on the shop doors.
A tall figure appeared behind the door—a daunting, brawny man with muscles bulging on his arms larger than the heads of many customers.
He slowly removed the lock. The restless crowd began to shout and urge him on, only to be silenced by a single glare from the giant.
The man pushed the doors open. The crowd initially stepped back, but upon seeing the neatly stacked boxes of Magic Slates inside, they surged forward in excitement.
"Line up! One by one!" the giant roared. "We have plenty of stock! Everyone will get one! Do not push! No cutting in line! Police! Police! Ah, my foot!"
As Lorne expected, the branch became a hot and brilliant attraction in Lucheval Square. The business was so booming that the staff were run off their feet. The Magic Slates transported from Norelia by rail were sold out the moment they arrived.
According to the werewolves escorting the cargo, the train had even encountered highwaymen who weren't after gold or silver, but the Magic Slates. Fortunately, the werewolves fought bravely and repelled them.
Lorne had considered using Teleportation to transport the goods. But the mana cost of Teleportation was proportional to distance and mass. After calculating the consumption, he gave up.
There were trains, after all. Why use magic for something science could handle?
On the second day of opening, major newspapers covered the grand occasion on their front pages. Not just the ones that received press releases—even papers Bone-ster hadn't contacted sent reporters. Magic Games were the trendiest topic in the capital; it would be a waste not to ride the hype.
"The Royal Morning News: Magic Game Specialty Store officially opens in Lucheval Square today; first-day sales of Magic Slates exceed 2,000 units..."
"The Coast Sun: Exploring Magic Games! The peculiar toy that swept the North Coast and charmed the Academic City has finally arrived in the capital! Mr. Lorne Dungeon, creator of the game and founder of Dungeon Entertainment, accepts an exclusive interview..."
"The Bauhinia Avenue Times: Customers flood Magic Game Specialty Store; undercover reporter waits an hour just to buy a slate. The popularity is beyond imagination!"
"The Capital Daily Dispatch: Exclusive! Dear readers, still having a headache trying to figure out how to play Magic Games? Still frustrated by high-difficulty levels? Still annoyed that you can't join in when friends discuss the game? The complete guide to 'Legend of the Brave' is here to help you defeat evil and restore the light!"
The glowing reports from the newspapers did not escape the notice of the other shop owners in Lucheval Square.
In the attic of Mesenu Fashion, over a dozen people were gathered for a meeting. This protest organization consisted of about ten owners who used to meet every night after closing. But because Lorne had shown sincerity in reconciling and promised to run "Splash Screen Ads" for a week on his Magic Slates, they felt they weren't losing anything and hadn't met since.
Until today.
"Cough, first of all, thank you all for taking the time to come to my small shop," the owner of Mesenu Fashion began. "I called you here today to further discuss the Magic Game store..."
"Didn't we discuss this already?" the owner of the Golden Leaf Restaurant interrupted. "We all agreed to stop protesting, didn't we?"
"That's because Lorne Dungeon sent us anti-radiation plants and agreed to give us free ads," Mesenu's owner said. "The ads were only for a week. That week is over. Shouldn't we discuss a new plan?"
The Golden Leaf owner looked at him strangely. "What new plan? Why can't we just coexist in peace?"
"I want to discuss the ads," Mesenu's owner said. "The first week was free, but if we want to keep advertising, we have to pay. To show our united stand, I think we should collectively refuse to buy more ads."
The Golden Leaf owner immediately objected. "My business increased by 30% this week, and we've had countless delivery orders! The effect is instant. It's not some outdated poster; it appears directly on the Magic Slate! You see it the moment you open it!"
The people of Royal City were well-traveled, but no one had ever seen a "Splash Screen Ad." You turn on the slate, and a giant ad is plastered right on your face. Even the most indifferent person is forced to watch it. The impact was profound.
Another restaurant owner chimed in. "Ad space is limited. If we don't buy it, someone else will. Yesterday, the manager of Wandu Bookstore told me they've already finalized a deal with Dungeon Entertainment."
Mesenu's owner glared at her. "So you want to follow Wandu Bookstore? You want to betray us?"
"What do you mean 'betray'? Everyone can just buy ads!"
The owner of Wasen Cosmetics said, "I proposed to renew my contract with Lorne Dungeon, but he rejected me. I think he holds a grudge because we protested against him, and the bookstore didn't, so..."
The Golden Leaf owner was surprised. "But he agreed to renew with me! Don't assume he's so petty. I bet your bid was too low!"
"I offered 30 gold coins for a week, and he didn't agree," Wasen's owner said. "How much did you pay?"
The Golden Leaf owner suddenly went quiet. He looked down, fidgeting in his chair, and stammered, "Uh, that's a trade secret, I can't reveal it. Anyway, uh, it wasn't 30 gold coins."
"We've been partner for over ten years!" Wasen's owner shouted. "What are you hiding?"
The owner of a Gramophone Shop sneered, "Would you show your accounts to others? If you ask me, Mesenu, you don't want 'unity.' You just don't want others making money."
"What did you say?!"
The Gramophone owner laughed coldly. "You failed to negotiate a deal with Dungeon Entertainment, so you want all of us to fail too!"
Mesenu's owner scrutinized him. "I take it you succeeded? You'd betray us all for a bit of petty profit?"
"I'm a businessman! Of course I think about how to make money! Unlike you—you have a big shot backing you. A temporary loss is nothing to you. How could you understand the hardships of us small business owners?"
His words drew a low murmur of agreement. Many owners had heard that Mesenu's owner was close to Mr. Harden of the Toy Joy Company. It was Harden's investment that saved him from bankruptcy. No one believed this protest wasn't Harden's idea.
Mesenu's owner turned red. "Mr. Harden is looking out for all of us!"
The Gramophone owner jumped up. "Ha! I was just saying it, and you admitted it! You're just Harden's dog, enjoying his scraps while letting us be the front-line fodder!"
The cosmetics shop owner got angry. "So what? You tried to lick Mr. Harden's boots too, but he didn't want you!"
"As if he'd want you? Your shop only sells fake aphrodisiacs!"
"You dare look down on my medicine? Didn't you buy some yourself?"
"That's how I know they're fake!"
That sentence was the match in the powder keg. The shop owners stood up, pointing and cursing at the cosmetics owner.
"So you dared sell us fake medicine! And we called you a Partner!"
"F**k you! Give me my money back!"
The small attic was suddenly filled with smoke and fire. People who were calling each other brothers moments ago were now glaring with jealousy and suspicion. The once-grand protest group collapsed just like that.
One morning, a week after the opening, a steam car pulled up in front of the shop. A driver in white gloves jumped out and respectfully opened the door.
First out of the car was a massive belly, followed by short limbs and a round head. Passersby stared in wonder, momentarily suspecting it was a seal stuffed into a suit, before realizing it was a man who looked like a seal.
The Minister looked happily at the bustling shop and said to his secretary behind him, "See, Robinson? What did I tell you? Magic Games were bound to be a hit! I've decided—at the next World Expo, Magic Games will represent our country's new inventions. Those foreign hicks' eyes will pop out!"
Robinson climbed out of the carriage, panting. Sharing a car with the Minister had nearly flattened him like a pancake. Then, as he stepped out, he was nearly flattened again by the shoulder-to-shoulder crowd.
Through the glass, he could see the bustling interior. The crowd seeking Magic Slates was nearly breaking down the threshold. Every time a cart of slates was wheeled out, it was sold out instantly.
On the other side of the shop—the part for playing on-site, called an "Internet Cafe" or "Game Hall"—it was even more lively.
Coffee tables from the original shop had been pushed together, holding a row of slates. People crowded in front of every machine. The walls had been enchanted to project images like a cinema screen. Currently, the wall showed two players in a PK match of "Five-Color Stone Match-3," competing to see who could collect more stones in a limited time.
A crowd stood before the wall, clutching popcorn, fries, and ice cream, pointing at the battle.
"He should have used the artifact just now! What a wasted opportunity!"
"He should have moved that red gem! That would have let the blue ones fall for a chain reaction!"
"So bad, I can't watch."
"If you're so good, you do it!"
Most customers just kept their heads down, staring at their own slates. Waiters in crisp uniforms moved through the crowd, serving aromatic coffee. The coffee machine that had nearly bankrupted Baroness Poole's family was being put to its best use in Lorne Dungeon's hands.
Robinson couldn't believe his eyes. This was a toy shop, not a carnival, right? Why were there so many customers? Why was it so popular?
Those slates didn't just have "Anti-Feudalism"; they had other games too. Should he buy one to study it?
A silver-haired man walked toward them, opening his arms to the Minister.
"Welcome, Your Excellency!" Lorne Dungeon shook the Minister's hand firmly, and they even exchanged a cheek kiss. "Your presence brings light to my humble shop!"
"The pleasure is mine!" the Minister said cheerfully. "I should have come to congratulate you on opening day, but I was so busy last week, and I didn't want to just send a subordinate. That would be rude." He lowered his voice. "Please, no fanfare. I'm not here as the Minister of Commerce today, just a regular customer..."
"Oh, an incognito visit!" Lorne said lightly. "Shall I show you around?"
The Minister readily agreed. But "showing around" was more like swimming through a vast ocean of human bodies. It was difficult to navigate the crowd, especially since the Minister's "footprint" was much larger than the average person's.
After surveying the ceiling with his eyes, the Minister declared he had seen enough.
"I have something to ask your opinion on," the Minister said. "You know about the World Expo, right? The next one is being held in our Kingdom's industrial capital, Idesy..."
Lorne made an upward gesture. "The walls have ears here. Why don't we go to the office to talk in detail?"
"Good, very good!" The Minister wiped sweat from his neck with a handkerchief. "It's too crowded here, and too hot... Robinson! Go find something to do downstairs!"
His tone was like a parent telling a child: "Daddy has business with Uncle, go play in the living room for a bit!"
Robinson forced a smile and bowed as he saw them off. If he really wanted to pass the time, he'd rather leave and find a quiet place, but he was afraid the Minister would come down while he was out. He could only squeeze through the crowd toward the back of the shop. Since there were "Staff Only" signs there, customers didn't dare wander in.
He leaned against the wall and let out a long sigh.
He hadn't been quiet for a minute when he heard a familiar, high-pitched voice.
"Mr. Robinson!"
Miss Ghoulsty walked toward him with her affected, swaying gait. She was heavily made-up as usual, with pale foundation and bright red lips, wearing sunglasses indoors—a strange woman indeed.
"Are you here to buy a Magic Slate?" she asked loudly. "Why wait in line? Just tell me! I'll go get one for you right now!"
Robinson quickly said, "No need to bother. I'm here with the Minister. We'll leave once he's done with Mr. Lorne."
"Well, that might take a while! Why don't you sit in our staff lounge? There's tea, coffee, and snacks. Help yourself!"
She was so insistent that Robinson had to agree.
The staff lounge was on the second floor. Entering, Robinson saw a massive, brawny man sitting in the center. A man like that should be in a tavern with a hunk of meat and a bottle of ale. Yet, in his shovel-like giant hand, he held a small, delicate cherry cream cake.
"This is our security chief, Wolf," Miss Ghoulsty introduced. "And this is the Minister's secretary. I'm letting him rest here."
Wolf glared at Robinson with a fierce look. "I wasn't trying to eat this cake! I was just looking! Cakes and stuff are for kids!" He pushed the cake aside, looking pained.
"I'm done resting," Wolf said, standing up. "By the way, the customer service team told me the lunches they left in the lounge were eaten by someone."
"Maybe someone took the wrong one?" Ghoulsty said.
"This is the third time," Wolf said darkly. "And the count of cherry cakes is always off. They want me to find out who it is."
Ghoulty said, "Oh, it's just some snacks. No need to act like the police..."
"I beg to differ, Miss," Robinson interrupted. "This is clearly an inside job. I advised Mr. Lorne Dungeon to be careful with his hiring, but he... he's too kind, he doesn't like to think the worst of people. Now look, I was right!"
Wolf looked at him strangely. "What are you talking about? You sound like you already know the thief."
Robinson snorted. "Who else could it be? Isn't the person with a 'dark history' in this shop obvious?"
Gusty and Wolf winked furiously at Robinson, but he didn't notice, continuing his grand speech: "Crime starts small. A needle today, gold tomorrow. It's just small items now, so you think it's nothing. But greed grows. Tomorrow it won't just be a few cakes!"
A cold voice came from behind: "And what do you think I'll steal in the future?"
This was a rare moment of extreme embarrassment in Robinson's life. For years to come, whenever he thought back to this morning, his toes would curl in shame.
He turned around stiffly to see Tira standing in the doorway, holding a small, rusty lunchbox—likely intending to eat her lunch in the lounge. She stared at Robinson, her blue eyes overflowing with anger. She looked like she was about to cry, but she forced back the tears, turned around, and ran away.
"Tira! Wait! He wasn't talking about you! None of us suspect you!"
Ghoulsty muttered an "excuse me," picked up her skirt, and scurried after her.
Wolf looked at Robinson reproachfully. "Don't talk nonsense without evidence," he said.
Robinson's face flushed. A normal person would have been speechless, but Robinson was a future politician, and one of a politician's most vital skills is having a thick skin.
"I'm just stating my thoughts," he said. "You admit she's the most suspicious among everyone, right?"
"I admit..." Wolf said solemnly.
"You are indeed wise!"
"...I admit you have a problem with your brain!" He suddenly hoisted Robinson up. "That girl was personally chosen by Lord Lorne. Lord Lorne's judgment is never wrong! It's called 'trusting the person you use'! To suspect that girl is to suspect Lord Lorne!"
He strode out of the lounge, slammed the door behind him, and dumped Robinson hard on the floor.
"This is a staff-only lounge. Outsiders aren't allowed in! And don't you dare eat anything inside! Otherwise, you're the thief!"
Robinson wanted to argue, but Wolf's massive muscles made him reconsider. If he fought Wolf, he had zero chance of winning. Even if Wolf ended up in the police station afterward, Robinson would be injured and his relationship with Lorne would be ruined. It wasn't worth it.
He clutched his aching backside, got up, and slunk back to the first floor, letting himself be swallowed by the crowd.
By noon, the staff went to lunch. Presumably, the Minister and Lorne were enjoying fine food. Robinson wanted to go to a nearby restaurant, but he didn't dare leave. He could only endure hunger, fatigue, and aching legs, standing there like a pillar.
The Minister and Lorne talked for hours. By the time they came downstairs, the sun was low.
Robinson greeted them as if receiving a pardon. "Excellency, are you returning to the Ministry?"
The Minister didn't even notice him, only talking to Lorne. "Cooperating with you is a joy! With your participation, our pavilion at the World Expo will surely draw the world's attention!"
"You flatter me. It's just a small toy. How could it compare to the world's most advanced technology and inventions?" Lorne was humble. "Are you sure you won't stay for dinner?"
"No, no," the Minister waved his hand. "I promised my wife I'd be back for dinner. Robinson! Oh, there you are!" He looked at his secretary. "Where did you go? I thought you weren't here!"
I've been here the whole time! Robinson thought gloomily.
"Are you going to the Ministry or straight home?" he asked again.
The Minister opened his mouth, but before he could speak a word, he saw Miss Ghoulsty walking over furiously. Beneath her sunglasses, a suspicious liquid was spraying out—calling it tears would be an understatement; it was far too thick...
"Miss! Your eyes are leaking pus!" the Minister cried in alarm.
"I'm fine, thanks for asking!" Ghoulsty curtsied to him first, then turned angrily to Robinson. "Tira is gone! What did you do to her?! Tell me!"