Last night, soone just like him was indeed robbed. Anyone seeing soone standing under the streetlight at the alleyway's entrance, counting a thick wad of cash, would be tempted by the thought, "How great it would be if that money were mine." So people, constrained by their moral compass and the law's threat, would keep such thoughts to themselves and pass by quietly.
But others, accustod to ignoring the law's deterrents, would turn those thoughts into reality.
Thus, a stylish individual in a purple unisex suit was dragged into the alley by several thugs, who gave him a not so friendly "greeting" and took the money that didn't belong to them.
For these people, this was probably a trivial matter. They had already morized the nas of those they couldn't offend, people they'd never forget for the rest of their lives. Obviously, the guy counting cash wasn't one of those people, so they felt no pressure.
The few hundred dollars in cash would allow them to live comfortably in Ternell City for at least a month. However, they didn't realize their actions would have consequences for their boss's boss. Their social standing was too low to fully grasp the ramifications, so they couldn't be completely blad. this-chapter-is-MVLeMpYr
At first, Julian's plan was to use Mrs. Vivian to make a connection with the mayor, but he quickly realized how wrong that was—especially using Mrs. Vivian. Their social status and needs were far beyond anything Julian could offer.
Though Mrs. Vivian liked to have friendly interactions with younger n, Julian believed that if asked to do anything beyond that, she would refuse. The reason was simple: she was rely a "consur." Consurs never concern themselves with the struggles of the manufacturers behind the products they use.
All they cared about was whether they were satisfied with the product; everything else was irrelevant to them.
So Julian changed his plan. If he couldn't push Gador to cross that threshold and turn from a gang leader into a tycoon of Ternell City, then he would send him to hell instead! Julian shared this idea with Dave, who agreed but had a question.
Since the plan had changed, did that an he wouldn't have to act anymore?
Julian cruelly inford him of the harsh truth: because the plan had changed, Dave would not only need to "sacrifice" himself, but he would have to sacrifice with great effort. Only by doing this and completely satisfying Mrs. Vivian with Delier's "gift" would she feel a "guilt" over Delier's injury. This emotion would drive her to act more effectively than money or anything else.
Without needing anyone to remind her, Mrs. Vivian would take action on her own, as long as she remained happy.
Standing in the alley across from Delier's art gallery, Julian saw the lancholy in Dave's retreating figure and suppressed a laugh, rubbing his face. Whether the plan would succeed depended on how well Dave perford.
A person who truly sacrifices will always give their best, right?
As evening approached, Julian shook off his coat. The weather was growing colder. He stomped his feet and bought a smoked at sandwich from a nearby food cart. As he bit into it, he watched the entrance of Delier's art gallery.
About ten minutes later, Mrs. Vivian erged, her face glowing. She walked with much more vigor than when she had entered, her lips curved in satisfaction. A bruised and battered Delier followed closely behind her. Julian didn't see Dave. Delier said a few things while bowing and nodding, then personally escorted Mrs.
Vivian to her car. After watching the car disappear down the street, Delier wiped nonexistent sweat from his forehead and vigorously shook his arms.
Julian quickly swallowed the last bite of his sandwich and ran across the street. "How did it go?"
Delier nodded. "I think there's no problem."
"Where's Jon?" Julian couldn't help but chuckle as he ntioned the na. Dave had even adopted a stage na… how amusing!
Delier's expression was strange, constantly sending Julian the wrong signal, as if… sothing was off.
"He's probably resting. After all, he's a teenager, and his physical condition is sothing to be envied." Delier's statent was clearly incomplete, leaving a hint of suggestiveness hanging in the air.
Carrying the three portraits, Mrs. Vivian didn't go straight ho but headed to the Ternell City Police Departnt. There, she found Pronto, who had already changed out of his uniform and was preparing to head ho. Arrogantly, she placed the three portraits on his desk, not even bothering to look at him directly. She had the confidence and power to act that way.
Even though Pronto was the chief of police in Ternell City, he wouldn't dare hold any grudges against her.
After all, aside from being the mayor's wife, Mrs. Vivian was the daughter of the forr governor. She had deep connections and influence throughout the Star Empire, far beyond what a local police chief like Pronto could challenge!
"Find these three people and arrest them. Handle it however you see fit."
Mrs. Vivian quickly left the Ternell City Police Departnt; she disliked the place, feeling it was filled with "filth."
It wasn't that anything here made her feel repulsed, nor would anyone dare to act indecently toward her. For her, "filth" referred to things that were inferior, vulgar, ugly, or dirty—a collection of negative descriptors. She was like a pristine piece of holy silverware, clean and pure, while this place was filled with the foul and detestable.
Watching Mrs. Vivian's car drive away, Pronto collapsed into his chair, utterly dejected. It was the end of the day, and just a minute ago, he had been humming a tune, ready to change into casual clothes and relax at a bar. But now, he could barely stop himself from cursing.
Damn it! Sure, Ternell City was small, but it wasn't so small that it only had three or fifty people. This was a city, not a kindergarten! Who the hell knew who the guys in the three portraits were or where they lived? And those distorted lines… Pronto couldn't even find the words. If soone really looked like that, they had to be the devil's spawn.
No human could possibly look like that.
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