Chapter 767: Oliver

Randa is often called a Free City.

This is evident from the fact that people refer to it as Free City Randa.

However, Randa also has many other nicknames.

Due to its massive size, having been formed from 26 smaller towns, it’s also known as a Megacity and is sometimes called the economic center of the world.

Given the times, places where wealth gathered were considered holy lands.

And to prove that this saying wasn’t false, Randa still attracted countless immigrants seeking the blessing of jobs.

Yet, could you say Randa was a good place to live?

Though it’s true Randa was wealthy, it also had the worst wealth inequality.

It was evident from just walking through the front and back districts, the disparity hit you.

That wasn’t the only issue. Along with economic gaps, public safety was also a serious concern.

Because the City Councilors valued freedom and, to some extent, believed certain crimes lubricated the economy, Randa’s security was quite unstable.

So, besides being called Free City and Megacity, Randa also bore nicknames like the City of Money and Violence, or the Rotten City.

True to those nicknames, the city’s lower class perished in droves each month from poverty, violence, and other crimes.

Yet, Randa’s population never decreased. In fact, it grew every year.

The endless wave of immigrants quickly filled the holes left by those who died.

Now, let’s ask the real question:

Why would anyone willingly come to such a city?

Those poor souls in a land so harsh. Maybe because there were jobs?

That wasn’t entirely wrong, but it wasn’t fully right either.

The real reason so many people flocked to this city was hope.

And what was that hope?

It was the people who, despite being poor like them, struggled hard and achieved success on their own.

Like a young rural woman, once a housemaid, who caught her rich employer’s eye and replaced his aging wife.

Or the factory worker who happened to meet a designer and became a supermodel after spending a single night with him.

Or the humble errand boy who dutifully saved his wages, bought a lottery ticket, and became a millionaire.

Their stories filled the hearts of those who struggled to eat every day.

And the Randa newspapers, always chasing sensational stories, regularly interviewed these self-made icons, publishing them.

They soothed the lower class while increasing newspaper sales.

These self-made icons graciously agreed to the interviews.

They knew that in a city obsessed with money, even success itself had become a commodity.

After boosting their name through interviews, they’d monetize their success, selling books, seminars, and outlandish advice.

This was how Randa’s mutual back-scratching economy worked.

It turned into a lucrative business, and some even bribed the media to interview them regularly.

Others went as far as constantly advertising their success stories, turning themselves into cash cows.

The deceased Seamus from Enjoyment and Edith were shining examples of this phenomenon.

They were sellers of success. (Swindlers).

Despite being polar opposites in age and appearance, they both thrived in this market.

Seamus flaunted his handsome looks, muscular body, luxurious lifestyle, and beautiful lover to attract ambitious youths.

Edith, on the other hand, used his unattractive face, overweight body, sleazy habits, and a noble wife he purchased with money to appeal to middle-aged losers.

Recently, Edith made another fortune by selling Prometheus Corp. stocks at triple their price, leading him back into the spotlight with a new lecture series, “Poor Bastard, You’re Insane,” which sold out.

But, as with everything, it would come to an end.

People craved new success stories, and newspapers were running out of material.

They wanted something more sensational, more miraculous, more absurd.

Could there even be such a story, even in Randa?

There was.

A retired intermediary who, in his later years, recruited a monstrous newcomer and made aggressive business expansions, successfully redeveloping the X-District slum, one of Randa’s largest, was that legend.

That legend was none other than Forest.

According to a reliable source, he even struck a major deal with the Royal Family and obtained an entire island.

Because of this, many newspapers were practically throwing money at him, begging for an exclusive interview.

In this town, success made you a king. And no one had an issue with that.

However, the problem arose from an unexpected place.

For the first time, perhaps ever.

The problem was that the man himself didn’t want to be interviewed!

“Why?”

Click-click. Click-click. Ding-! Clack!

“It’s a hassle.”

***

Inside an office of the Redevelopment Union at the heart of X-District.

Click-click. Click-click. Ding-! Clack! Click-click. Click-click. Ding-! Clack!

The repetitive machine sounds echoed like a harmonious tune.

It was the sound of a typewriter, and Oliver and Forest were talking over it.

“That’s surprising.”

Click-click. Click-click. Ding-! Clack!

Forest pulled the typewriter lever back.

“What is?”

“That you turned down the interview. I thought you’d accept it in a heartbeat.”

“Really? Well, I might’ve done it back in the day, but I don’t need to anymore. I’ve made plenty of money. Enough to retire.”

Even as he spoke, Forest’s hands kept moving on the typewriter.

“Still, it’s strange. I thought you’d do it anyway.”

“I like money, but do I really have that much of a greedy image?”

Oliver shook his head.

“It’s not about greed. It’s more that you don’t seem like the kind of person to pass up an opportunity to earn more.”

Click-click. Click-click—

Forest stopped typing and looked at Oliver silently.

Oliver similarly stared back, as if it was the last time they’d see each other.

Forest seemed a bit older than when they first met, but he was still neatly dressed, with well-kept hair.

And more than anything, his eyes were sharper now, filled with a certain resolve.

He didn’t seem like someone who planned to while away his remaining days spending his hard-earned wealth.

“There are plenty of ways to describe you, Forest, but lazy and foolish aren’t part of it. I’d say hardworking and smart are more fitting.”

“Heh heh…”

Forest chuckled softly at Oliver’s flattery.

He was so touched that tears welled up in his eyes. Though he didn’t show it, he felt satisfied.

After laughing, he sighed.

“Sigh… You’ve really become silver-tongued.”

“I’ve always been good with words. Same with my sense of humor.”

“Nah, nah, nah.”

Forest shook his head and denied Oliver’s words three times in a row, standing up.

Then, he grabbed a liquor bottle and two crystal glasses, pouring some into each.

“I like ya, Oliver, but I can’t agree with that. Lying is bad.”

“We might have some differences, but harshly denying it like that is a bit much.”

“The only thing harsh here is your wit and humor. If you’d been less skilled, I’d have cut ties with you long ago, it would’ve been too frustrating.”

“Oh, you’re serious.”

Oliver read his emotions.

Horrifyingly, Forest didn’t deny it.

“Honesty is just part of my professional ethics, as a broker.”

“I’m great with words, and my humor is top-notch. I read a joke book every night before bed.”

“If you have to practice humor, that just proves you don’t have it naturally. That’s something you’re born with, Oliver.”

“If you want, I can call Marie and Joe as witnesses.”

“No! Don’t you dare stress out those hardworking folks any more. They’re already exhausted!”

Forest yelled, thinking of Marie and Joe, who were toiling for the city’s rebuilding project.

He had seen them in action during his last visit, and knew just how hard they were working.

Especially since they were both sweating to stop worship over Oliver from spreading misleadingly. So when Forest handed them all his work upon announcing his retirement, he felt somewhat guilty.

For about three seconds.

Even so, stopping Oliver from bothering hardworking people was a rare moment of managerial conscience for Forest.

“In that case, maybe you shouldn’t have retired yet? At least postponed it?”

“That’s too harsh. I’m well over retirement age, and yet you still want to keep using me? I’m not an ox, you know. Gotta let me rest.”

Forest protested, but Oliver wasn’t backing down.

“Weren’t you already retirement age when we first met?”

“I was at the edge of it, but not quite there. My retirement fund was even more at the edge. Not anymore though, so now’s my time to rest.”

“You look pretty busy for someone resting.”

At Oliver’s persistent remarks, Forest sighed.

“I retired to do something I wanted. While the work here can go on without me, the things I want to do are something only I can do.”

“One of them is the Poor Brothers Orphanage, right?”

“Got a new information source?”

“I just happened to find out.”

“Scary… Alright. Don’t look at me like that. I’m just filling in for an old friend’s spot now that I have time. It makes me feel better.”

Forest said, recalling Kent’s funeral.

His voice was calm, which made it all the more sorrowful.

“Though I’ll drop it once I find someone else and make a run for it.”

“That’s surprising. Thought you’d stay longer.”

“In the end, we all clean up after ourselves. It’s one truth that will never change in this world.”

Forest handed Oliver the crystal glass filled with liquor. Oliver took it and clinked it against Forest’s glass.

Clink-!

A clear sound rang out, and both men emptied their glasses at once.

A brief silence followed. Then Forest made a confession.

“I’m writing a book. That’s what I’m doing.”

“What kind of book?”

Oliver asked calmly.

Forest replied.

“A book about my time with you.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. The stories of our time together as a broker and contractor. I plan to sell it. You’ve been gaining a bit of fame recently, don’t you think?”

Oliver pondered that, and Forest shook his head.

“Hah, I meant to keep that secret, but you’re so scary that I ended up spilling it… Judging by your reaction, you don’t seem too upset though?”

“Hmm…”

After thinking for a while, Oliver responded.

“I guess it depends on what you plan to do with the book.”

“What I plan to do…”

Forest mumbled before smiling.

“What else? I’m going to make more retirement money. And maybe shake some sense into people.”

“Shake some sense? About what?”

“About deifying you too much. How does that sound?”

Oliver lifted his thumb and curved his lips into a smile.

“Sounds fantastic.”