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🕑 Added 2025-02-16 04:44:22 +0000 UTCOliver (8)
Landa is often called the Free City.
This was evident in the fact that people referred to it as the Free City of Landa.
However, Landa had numerous other nicknames.
Due to its immense size, comprised of 26 small cities, it was also called a Mega City.
It was also considered the center of the world, being the most economically advanced.
Given the times, places where money gathered were considered sacred.
As if to prove this, countless migrants still flocked to Landa, seeking the blessing of employment.
But, does this mean Landa was a city good for living? That was debatable.
While Landa was indeed a wealthy city, it also had the most severe income inequality.
You could tell just by crossing between the front and back districts of the Alphabet District.
And it didn’t stop there. In addition to economic disparity, public safety was a major issue.
The city council, worshippers of freedom and believers that a certain degree of crime served as economic lubricant, implemented policies that made Landa’s safety precarious.
As a result, Landa earned nicknames beyond the Free City and Mega City, such as the City of Money and Violence and the Corrupt City.
True to those nicknames, the lower class of the city perished easily, monthly, amidst poverty, violence, and various crimes.
Nevertheless, Landa’s population didn’t decrease but grew every year.
This was because numerous migrants immediately filled the vacancies left behind.
Now, here’s the question.
Why on earth would they come to such a city?
For the impoverished, this harsh land still offered jobs, didn’t it?
Not entirely wrong, but not entirely right either.
The real reason countless people visited this city was hope.
So, what was that hope?
It was none other than the self-made individuals who, despite their poverty, worked relentlessly and succeeded.
Examples included a beautiful countryside girl who became a mistress to her employer, ousting his elderly wife.
A factory worker who caught the eye of a designer and became a supermodel after a single night.
A janitor who bought a lottery ticket with his hard-earned money and became a millionaire.
Their stories filled the hearts of those worrying about their daily meals.
And Landa's media, ever eager to sell lies and intrigue, didn’t miss the chance to interview these icons of self-made success and feature them in newspapers.
To comfort the struggling lower class and, incidentally, boost newspaper sales.
In response to such media efforts, these icons willingly gave interviews.
Because they knew that in this city obsessed with money, even success could become a product.
After raising their profile through interviews, they sold their success stories, know-how, and abstract nonsense—ridiculous brags—through books and lectures to make money.
This was Landa’s version of mutual aid.
It turned out to be more lucrative than expected, with some even bribing media outlets to be interviewed.
Others directly advertised themselves, selling their success stories periodically as a cash cow.
The late enjoyment-druid Shamus and the still-living Edith were representative figures of this practice.
Merchants of success (scammers).
Despite their opposite ages and appearances, the two excelled in this field.
Shamus attracted ambitious youth with his handsome looks, muscular physique, flamboyant lifestyle, and beautiful lovers.
Meanwhile, Edith drew middle-aged losers with her unattractive looks, obese body, sordid life, and a noblewoman wife bought with money.
Particularly, unlike Shamus, who died while swindling, Edith recently made a splash by selling Prometheus Company shares at three times their value, propelling himself back into stardom and selling out his new lecture, Poor People Are Psychopaths, making a fortune.
But everything eventually ends.
The era demanded new success stories, and newspapers running out of material also craved fresh ones.
More sensational, more miraculous, more outrageous.
Could such things exist even in Landa?
They did.
Having spent his life as an unremarkable broker, he became a living legend after retiring by recruiting a monstrous newcomer and successfully redeveloping one of Landa's largest slums, District X, through aggressive business expansion.
According to confidential sources, he even made a big deal with the sacred royal family, acquiring an entire island.
Perhaps because of this, numerous media outlets came to him with piles of money, requesting exclusive interviews.
In this city, a successful person was treated like a lord, so there was no issue with such requests.
However, an unexpected problem arose.
For the first time, or almost the first time.
The problem was that the person himself didn’t want to do the interview!
“Why not?”
Tap-tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap. Ting! Click!
“Because it’s annoying.”
***
In the office of the redevelopment union at the center of District X.
Tap-tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap. Ting! Click! Tap-tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap. Ting! Click!
The repetitive mechanical sounds echoed like a harmony.
Amidst the sound of typing, Oliver and Forrest conversed.
“That’s unexpected.”
Tap-tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap. Ting! Click!
Forrest pulled the typewriter carriage back into place.
“What is?”
“Refusing the interview. I thought you’d agree, Mr. Forrest.”
“Did you? Well, maybe I would have in the past, but I don’t see the need anymore. I’ve made enough money—enough to retire.”
Even as he spoke, Forrest’s hands didn’t leave the typewriter.
“Still, it’s strange. I thought you would’ve done it anyway.”
“I like money, but was my image really that of someone obsessed with it?”
Oliver shook his head.
“It’s not about being obsessed with money, but you’re neither foolish nor lazy enough to pass up an opportunity to earn it.”
Tap-tap. Tap—
Forrest stopped typing and silently looked at Oliver.
Oliver also looked at Forrest, as though it was the last time they’d face each other.
Forrest seemed slightly older than when they first met, but he was still impeccably dressed and had his hair neatly groomed.
Above all, his eyes were sharper than ever, reflecting a certain determination.
He didn’t seem like someone who would spend his remaining years frivolously squandering his fortune.
“Mr. Forrest, many titles may suit you, but laziness and foolishness are not among them. I think diligence and intelligence are more appropriate.”
“Pffft...”
At Oliver’s flattery, Forrest let out a small laugh.
His eyes glistened faintly with tears. Though he didn’t show it outwardly, he felt joy and satisfaction in Oliver’s words.
After laughing, he let out a small sigh.
“Ha... Your way with words has improved tremendously.”
“I’ve always been good with words, just like my sense of humor.”
“No, no, no.”
Forrest stood up and shook his head, denying Oliver’s claim three times.
Then, he brought over a bottle of liquor and two crystal glasses, pouring the drink with a light trickle.
“I like you, but I can’t agree with that. Lying is bad, you know.”
“There can be differences in opinion, but cutting me off like that feels a bit harsh.”
“The only thing harsh is your rhetoric and humor skills. Frankly, if you hadn’t been good at your job, I would’ve stopped working with you long ago—out of frustration.”
“Oh my, you’re serious.”
Oliver peeked into Forrest’s emotions.
To his horror, Forrest didn’t deny it.
“A broker lying about their abilities would go against my professional ethics.”
“My speaking skills are excellent, and so is my sense of humor. I read humor books every night before bed to improve.”
“The fact that you’re trying is proof that you’ve already failed at humor. That’s a realm of talent, and you’re just you.”
“If you’d like, I could call Marie and Joe to confirm.”
“No! Don’t bother hardworking folks like them. They’re already having a tough time!”
Forrest shouted, thinking of Marie and Joe, who were working tirelessly on rebuilding the capital.
Having visited the capital recently and seen them at work, Forrest knew better than anyone about their hard efforts.
Especially, they were breaking a sweat trying to quash the growing faith surrounding Oliver, which made Forrest feel a pang of guilt when he handed over all his duties to them and announced his retirement.
For about three seconds, anyway.
Regardless, Forrest stopped Oliver’s reckless suggestion to summon those hardworking individuals. That was his last act of conscience as a Broker.
“In that case, wouldn’t it have been better not to retire at all? Or at least to delay it a bit?”
“That’s harsh. I’m well past the age of retirement, and you still want to work me to the bone? I’m not a beast of burden—I deserve a break.”
Forrest defended himself, but Oliver didn’t back down.
“You were already at retirement age when we first met, weren’t you?”
“I was barely there, but not quite over the line. Plus, my retirement funds were precarious back then. Now they’re not, so I can rest.”
“For someone resting, you seem quite busy.”
At Oliver’s relentless remark, Forrest let out a sigh.
“I retired because I had things I wanted to do. The work here can be handled by others even if I’m not around, but what I want to do is something only I can do.”
“One of those things is the Welfare Center for Poor Brothers, right?”
“Do you have a new informant besides me?”
“I just happened to find out.”
“Scary... Fine. Don’t give me that look. It’s just that I have extra time after retiring, and I’m temporarily filling in for an old friend’s absence. It helps me feel at peace.”
Forrest, who had attended Kent’s funeral, spoke.
His voice was calm, making his words all the more sorrowful.
“Well, as soon as someone else from the welfare center steps up to take over, I’ll hand it off and make my escape.”
“That’s a bit unexpected. I thought you’d stick with it for a while.”
“Ultimately, everyone has to clean up their own mess. That’s a universal truth in this city—no, in this world.”
Forrest handed Oliver one of the crystal glasses he had poured. Oliver took it and clinked it against Forrest’s.
Clink—!
The clear sound of their glasses meeting resonated, and both Oliver and Forrest emptied their glasses simultaneously.
For a moment, silence hung between them, until Forrest confessed something.
“I’m writing a book. That’s what I want to do.”
“What kind of book?”
Oliver asked calmly.
Forrest replied.
“A book about my time with you.”
“Me?”
“Yes, the things we’ve been through as a broker and a solver. I was thinking of selling it. Thanks to recent events, you’ve become quite the hot topic.”
At those words, Oliver fell into deep thought, and Forrest shook his head with a sigh.
“Hah, I was planning to keep it a secret, but it’s scary how easily I end up telling you... But judging by your reaction, it doesn’t seem like such a bad idea?”
“Well...”
After pondering, Oliver began to speak.
“Doesn’t it depend on what you want to do with the book?”
“What I want to do...”
Forrest murmured, then smiled.
“What else? Earn some retirement funds. And maybe instill a bit of perspective, too.”
“What kind of perspective?”
“About all the deification surrounding you and putting a stop to that nonsense. What do you think?”
Oliver raised his thumb to lift the corners of his mouth into a smile.
“I think it’s absolutely brilliant.”
