Vicious Darling – Chapter 137

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[137]

The warehouse keeper Victoire.

A middle-aged man, he had previously provided information about the Barrel Society to Yuri and Chris.

When Yuri heard that Victoire supported the Babel City mayor’s citizenship issuance policy, he showed slight agitation.

Having hurriedly crossed the continent because of the flea market investigation, Victoire sat on a half-collapsed metal structure while looking at the empty site.

“Yes, Peter. As you said, it’s truly a mess.”

He muttered, rubbing his wrinkled eyes.

If only there was something gained from this, but he was at a loss.

Peter, standing behind Victoire, spoke up.

“It’s not the warehouse keeper’s fault. But… the Barrel Society can no longer be in the same boat as Mayor Chafnil.”

That had become quite obvious.

The warehouse keeper sighed.

Within the Barrel Society, Victoire had been one who agreed with joining hands with the mayor of Babel City. He always had been.

‘But. The woman’s deal for authority is as good as ruined now.’

They had stormed the flea market and made a complete mess of everything.

The citizenship issuance for illegal immigrants promised by the Babel mayor had become worthless.

Not only was Martha Chafnil herself in danger of being ousted, but to escape that sewage, she had grabbed the Barrel Society by the ankles.

‘Am I getting old too?’

The warehouse keeper closed his eyes tightly.

He had misjudged people. No, he was just blinded by greed.

As one ages, they tend to seek stability rather than change.

He wanted to take the easy path. In truth, he always had.

As someone who had left his home, he was sick of the added hardship. That’s why he became an executive of the Barrel Society. With the hope that his compatriots wouldn’t have to go through the same struggles.

He helped many people while managing the Barrel Society’s warehouse. Nevertheless, the warehouse keeper’s life had been a continuous struggle.

Yet the hungry remained hungry, and the weary only grew more tired.

Just then, the shoemaker, who had come to the Winter Continent to deliver quarterly supplies, whispered:

‘The mayor of Babel City in the Spring Continent has something to say.’

‘Really?’

Though the warehouse keeper responded indifferently, he crossed the sea following the shoemaker.

Surprisingly, the mayor of Babel City promised jobs.

For illegal immigrants suffering from employment instability due to unverified identities, steady jobs were rare. Even if they were lucky enough to get a job, payday would often be postponed repeatedly before they were eventually kicked out. Protests were futile. They couldn’t seek relief from the city.

Employers would act tough, telling them to shut up if they didn’t want to return to where they came from.

There was nothing they could do about it. Setting fire to the shop and breaking the boss’s head might feel satisfying, but that way they couldn’t blend into the new land.

Illegal immigrants were already suffering from many prejudices.

Despite the difficult sea crossing, their lives remained hard.

The warehouse keeper grew increasingly desperate.

‘I am Martha Chafnil, the mayor of Babel City.’

Sitting in a soft leather chair waiting for the mayor, the warehouse keeper gripped Martha Chafnil’s outstretched hand with a bewildered face.

‘The reason I’ve gathered you all here is to ask for an opportunity for our Spring Continent.’

Ask for an opportunity.

An unexpected attitude. At best, he thought she would tell them to quickly take those they had smuggled in on ships and get out.

‘What do you mean by asking for an opportunity?’

‘Each continent is in a state of stagnation. Nevertheless, Babel City has been contributing to the growth and development of the Spring Continent. However, I found that there are limitations with current resources.’

Martha Chafnil explained calmly.

‘I believe that illegal immigrants are the breakthrough for this stagnation.’

At those words, the warehouse keeper opened his eyes wide.

‘People who were teachers, doctors, and technicians in their places of origin are now moving from one day job to another because their identities aren’t verified. This is a huge waste in the labor market.’

Rather than goodwill with difficult-to-guess motives, this cold calculation of interests was more believable.

After that, Martha Chafnil continued to explain the citizenship issuance policy.

After a period to prove they were true members of the Spring Continent, citizenship would be issued.

She would arrange for them to receive fair value for their labor.

They wouldn’t have to tremble with fear of being evicted from their homes.

Martha Chafnil also explained the reason for the labor that would continue for several years to acquire citizenship.

‘Frankly, this isn’t what I want. But for outsiders to blend in as one, they must appear to make such sacrifices.’

‘Please give me some time to think.’

The warehouse keeper didn’t answer on the spot and got up.

Upon returning, he conveyed the mayor’s proposal to his followers.

Illegal immigrants were commonly referred to as “canned goods” or “cans” in public.

This was because it was widely known that they hid in barrels loaded onto rocking ships to cross the sea.

That’s why the Barrel Society insisted on their name. The struggle to survive couldn’t be shameful. Even if everyone else called them that.

At least the first generation that crossed the sea thought so.

But when children born to illegal immigrants in their new settlement came home crying after hearing such slurs, when they saw tears flowing down those cheeks, the silent embraces felt different than before.

The faces of parents who held their children so they couldn’t see their own faces were sometimes distorted with suppressed anger, and sometimes they shed endless tears like their children.

Such people couldn’t help but waver at the mayor’s proposal.

‘Give us an opportunity.’

Not offering an opportunity, but asking for help so that Babel City in the Spring Continent could absorb illegal immigrants and gain more power.

‘For outsiders to blend in as one.’

That phrase kept lingering in Victoire’s mind.

He didn’t deeply consider the fact that proof was being demanded for something that shouldn’t need proving.

At that moment, it sounded like a natural procedure and sacrifice.

Anyway, not receiving proper payment for labor was already the reality. So the opinion that they could endure the process, no matter how difficult, if they could obtain citizenship, was prevalent.

The warehouse keeper began to sway public opinion within the Barrel Society.

Towards accepting Mayor Martha Chafnil’s proposal.

The shoemaker was already persuaded, and the baker joined later.

But from around that time, things started to seem strange.

‘Why…’

Aren’t they contacting us?

Communications from those who had left believing the mayor’s words gradually became sporadic. At that time, Victoire was mainly active in the Winter Continent rather than the Spring Continent, so he was slow to notice the sense of unease.

When he spoke to the baker and shoemaker about it, they said it was because news was difficult to transmit between continents.

Victoire believed them. Or rather, it was closer to wanting to believe them.

As patience wore thin, the warehouse keeper crossed the sea and knocked on Mayor Chafnil’s door. But he was treated like a peddler and chased away.

The shoemaker and baker said Victoire was in the wrong.

They said he hadn’t considered the circumstances of Mayor Chafnil, who was being attacked from inside and out over this citizenship issuance matter. They asked what would happen to her position if it was discovered that she was communicating intimately with one of the executives of an organization of illegal immigrants.

‘Strange.’

It was after the warehouse keeper returned to the Winter Continent.

Yuri Sobolev came to the Barrel Society seeking cooperation. Their goal was to track the source of guiding drugs and remove it.

After hesitating, Victoire nodded. The current situation as Victoire felt it was at a standstill. To flip the board, one must insert a new force.

Suppressing the gatekeeper’s concerns, he advocated for attaching a locksmith to the mafia that wanted to go to the Spring Continent. To ride the flow that Yuri Sobolev was creating.

And the master of Baekyah discovered more truth than Victoire had wanted.

With the appearance of an unexpected player, Mayor Chafnil’s corruption was revealed one by one.

The whereabouts of illegal immigrants who had been investigated for illegal entry and then disappeared.

Half of them went to “the site” and performed heavy labor digging up unverified energy sources.

The rest went to factories making guiding drugs.

The mayor had thoroughly exploited those who couldn’t escape or seek legal redress anywhere.

And when this crime was exposed, she attacked the flea market to divert attention from her own corruption.

The next step was obvious without even looking.

‘Next, she’ll target the Barrel Society.’

The flea market was just a stepping stone to strike them.

For the mayor to claim that she had merely imposed rightful labor on criminals, the illegal immigrants had to be broken first.

Beyond the sense of betrayal, he was trembling with helplessness.

“…So in the end, we were just used.”

Victoire continued muttering, as if talking to himself.

“Mayor Chafnil never intended to give us what we wanted from the beginning. And the shoemaker and baker, each blinded by money and power, cooperated to bring things to this state.”

He had been sinking into doubt frequently these days.

“And I was stupid.”

He was stupider than anyone else.

Hadn’t he jumped into this game without gaining anything? He had wasted trust and manpower without getting anything in return.

The worst quality for a leader.

“It’s not the warehouse keeper’s fault.”

Peter spoke up.

“Don’t comfort me. What’s done is done.”

“But Victoire. You can still take responsibility.”

“Responsibility?”

He gave a hollow laugh.

“What responsibility can I take other than admitting my guilt and stepping back from the front line?”