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Chapter 243: George's Misfortune (Part 1)
"George! Stop daydreaming at your post—lunchtime’s almost here!"
A heavy hand slammed onto George’s shoulder, jolting him from his trance. He blinked, dazed, then turned to see his coworker Howard, holding a stack of that morning’s Kingdom Morning Post.
Howard grinned. "Check out today’s fresh news!"
George nodded eagerly, falling in step behind him. Around the factory floor, other workers were rising from their stations, faces alight with anticipation.
For laborers like them—poor, worn down by endless toil—buying newspapers was a luxury they couldn’t afford. And the Kingdom Morning Post? It was the most expensive paper in the nation. A single copy cost several Copper Coins—nearly half a day’s wages for George.
Of course, Howard had picked up the papers on behalf of the factory foreman.
And as his reward, the workers got to sit near the Scribe during the reading, soaking in a little entertainment—just a taste of joy to break the monotony.
"Come on, hurry up!"
"Want me to come down and grab it myself?"
A gruff, thunderous voice boomed from upstairs.
The foreman was, of course, the head of this Food Factory. But his status was… unusual. He was an Ogre named Daitou—rumored to be a loyalist under Chief Minister Lanpu. The entire factory feared him, though “fear” was the dominant emotion, not respect.
When George had first arrived, the sight of the three-meter-tall Ogre had nearly sent him into a panic. He’d nearly lost control of his bladder, terrified that Daitou would snap him up and devour him like a snack.
But time had dulled the shock. Now, George no longer found it strange to work alongside a giant Ogre. In fact, it felt perfectly normal—just another part of life in the city.
Daitou ate like a king, gorging himself on meat and fish every day. Why would he want to eat someone as skinny as George? That was the thought that often passed through his mind.
"Sir, your paper for today."
"Get out!"
Howard bowed deeply, handed over the stack, then was shooed out with a flick of the massive hand. Yet his face showed no anger—only eager anticipation. He stood there, ears perked, waiting. The other workers gathered around the door, all watching with the same rapt attention.
"Move back!"
"I came first—I even saved a spot for him!"
George pushed his way through, grateful for Howard’s help to secure a good spot.
Then, from inside the office, the Scribe’s clear, steady voice rang out—reading aloud.
The Kingdom Morning Post was packed with everything: national policy updates, bizarre tales from across the realm, and most importantly—its beloved humor section. The workers would laugh until their sides ached, roaring with delight.
For them, it was the only spark of joy in an otherwise stagnant existence. Listening to the paper was the highlight of their day.
"Commander Dolo conducting joint maneuvers on the city outskirts."
"National economy hits an all-time high."
"Lord Lanpu issues key directives: further integration of magic and industry."
Howard groaned. "Ugh, why’s it so long today? Wish those newspaper writers would stop boring us with nonsense."
George whispered, "Just be glad we get to hear it at all. Don’t disturb the foreman."
Before he even finished speaking, a furious roar erupted from inside:
"Want to keep listening? Then shut up! One more sound, and I’ll throw you all out!"
George flinched, shrinking back. He kept his mouth shut and listened closely.
"Yesterday, two citizens acted bravely, reporting spies from the Bosk Duchy to the kingdom. They’ve been personally rewarded by Lord Lanpu."
A hush fell. Then the Scribe continued:
"As a reward for loyalty, they’ve received fifty Gold Coins, a luxurious residence in the heart of Northwind Keep, and the rare chance to receive a Dragon Vein Blessing. Citizens, this is a solemn reminder: protecting the realm is everyone’s duty!"
Howard exhaled in awe. "Wow… just look at those lucky fools. They say people blessed with Dragon blood live over a hundred years! Gold Coins and houses? Pfft—nothing compared to that!"
The workers murmured in envy.
"Yeah, if only I’d caught a spy…"
"If it were me, I’d quit this job in a heartbeat. I’d buy a shop, collect rent, live like a lord!"
"Haha, don’t get carried away dreaming, you’re still a worker."
George didn’t join in the fantasy. He just listened, quietly filing the story away in his mind.
Then came the moment everyone had been waiting for—the humor section. The mood shifted instantly.
"Boy haunted by a Devil, brought to the Lakanman Family Church for exorcism."
"The priest says: Damned Devil, get out of this child’s body!"
"The Devil replies: You’re the one who should get out!"
The factory floor erupted in laughter. Even Daitou’s booming, rough chuckle echoed from the office—rare, unguarded joy for the workers.
Howard collapsed onto the floor, laughing so hard he was wheezing. "Those church fools really have no manners! No wonder they were kicked out!"
But George wasn’t laughing. He was still replaying the story in his head, only half-listening. He joined in the laughter out of habit, blending into the joyful chaos.
The workday dragged on until night fell, the sky dark and silent. George said goodbye to a few friends, dragging his weary body down the empty streets. The city was quiet, only a few stragglers left on the road.
"Another day’s over."
George licked his lips, as if still tasting the faint smell of the porridge he’d eaten that night.
He lived in the most basic Underground Dungeon in the city—a cramped, dim room barely a few square meters, packed with more than a dozen people. But it was all he could afford.
George was one of the tens of thousands of Peasant Laborers freed three years ago, now wandering the streets of Northwind Keep, still alone.
His mother had died of exposure in a brutal winter ten years prior. His father had starved during a famine six years ago. George felt little sorrow—death was common in the manors. To the lords, he was just another gray livestock animal, living on instinct, surviving day by day.
But now… now he’d come to the city. He’d tasted real food, seen wonders, and for the first time in his life, felt something like hope.
Daitou once said something profound: “When you’re full, you start thinking about women.”
George agreed completely.
He stole glances at the houses along the street—warm light glowing through the windows, silhouettes of people sitting across from each other, tiny figures of children playing. A family, enjoying a candlelit dinner.
He wanted a home. A real home in Northwind Keep.
But that dream stayed locked in his mind.
He knew, deep down, that for someone earning so little, it was nothing short of madness.
(End of Chapter)
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