Empire of Shadows

The restaurant spent the entire noon in a miasma of stench, attracting a large crowd of onlookers.

The Federation never lacked people who enjoyed watching a spectacle; it was a human instinct.

Seeing others encounter misfortune or adversity brought about a sense of happiness from within.

Throughout the noon, the restaurant only served three tables of customers, who gave the manager severe criticism upon leaving, stating that the restaurant had caused them to have a very unpleasant lunch and that they would likely not return.

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To retain these customers, the manager had to offer them a free meal and a complimentary wine voucher.

It could be used the next time they came.

It must be said that the manager was indeed a marketing expert. Despite these people saying they would never come again, as long as they had the voucher in their hands, they would definitely return!

If enjoying a spectacle was a Federationer's nature, then taking advantage was too.

The manager decided to have a good talk with Mr. Anderson. Just after one o'clock, he had the store door closed and two apprentices stand at the entrance with water hoses.

If those people came to defecate, they could just wash away the fecal matter; there was no need to stop them, just let them do their business.

This kind of thing couldn't be prevented; instead, it might provoke an even greater disturbance, so it was better to let them relieve themselves to their hearts' content.

The "bang, bang, bang" of knocking made Mr. Anderson look up. He glanced at the manager standing by the door, looking somewhat dejected as he wiped his face. "Have a seat."

This was his休息室, the floor littered with cigarette butts. Actually, he wasn't a heavy smoker, but the recent events had made him want to find something to relieve his sorrow.

The manager walked in and proactively offered Mr. Anderson a cigarette. "We need to have a good talk about your debt."

Mr. Anderson felt somewhat ashamed and annoyed, but the manager didn't give him a chance. "If the restaurant can't continue to operate normally, I'll resign next week."

"Mr. Anderson, I'm very grateful that you gave me the opportunity to manage such a high-end restaurant. My job is to make it even more brilliant and dazzling in my hands."

"But now, our ideas and concepts are in conflict."

"You caused the restaurant to fail due to your personal reasons, and we can't compromise on this issue. This conflicts with why you hired me and my job here."

"I have no reason or need to stay, Mr. Anderson. Although I've expressed my gratitude to you, I will continue to be grateful for the help you've given me."

Mr. Anderson sighed heavily. "I can't come up with that much money right now. It's almost half a year's profit for us."

From the time the manager came to run the restaurant, it had been improving for a little over half a year. The money earned was only four or five thousand, and some of it had been used to repay other people's debts.

The remaining portion, according to the manager's requirements, was used for various marketing efforts, allowing the restaurant's business and reputation to snowball.

Now he had less than two thousand dollars in his hand, and he simply couldn't repay the debt.

The manager understood the restaurant's financial situation, so he softened his voice slightly and said, "You can mortgage the house to the bank."

"The restaurant's business is good now. If it's not continuously affected, the bank will give you a loan."

"They're even more greedy, so if you have profitability and the ability to repay, they will definitely give you a loan."

"The interest on this loan will be much lower. Use a portion of it to repay Mr. Alberto, and with the rest, we can rent the place next door and continue to expand the business."

Mr. Anderson's house was located on the outer ring, a detached house of over two hundred square meters, but because it was a bit far from the city center and an old house, the price wasn't high.

He had someone look at it. Last year, those people thought the house was worth at most twelve thousand dollars, and he could get a loan of about seven thousand dollars from the bank, which was the most.

Of course, if he was willing to spend three hundred dollars to do some slight maneuvering, he might be able to get eight thousand or eight thousand five hundred dollars.

This house was bought by his father, and after his father died, he inherited it.

This house carried his birth, growth, marriage, and now, he was actually not very willing to mortgage it.

Seeing Mr. Anderson lower his head in silence, the manager knew he couldn't keep pushing him; this old man was a bit stubborn.

"I'm just giving you a suggestion, Mr. Anderson, but regardless, I'm grateful for everything you've done for me."

"And you must be mentally prepared that the restaurant may really not be able to continue operating in the end. At that time, what you lose won't just be a house."

"But also your career, dreams, family, life, everything!"

After the manager finished speaking, he patted Mr. Anderson on the shoulder and then left.

He walked to the outside of the restaurant. Because it was closed, no one came to defecate, which made the manager feel both amused and annoyed. Although this method was very undignified and childish.

But undeniably, it was really useful!

Who the hell, when they just wanted to eat and had a good appetite, would suddenly see someone spraying feces on the street in front of them and still smell that stench and still be able to maintain their appetite?

Even if they still had an appetite, they wouldn't step on the ground that might still be stained with feces to eat.

The manager had actually noticed Lance in the morning, mainly because of Lance's car.

Now the car was still parked across the street. After he let the apprentices go back to rest, he walked across the street alone.

In the nearby coffee shop, he saw Lance reading a newspaper.

The sound of footsteps startled Lance. He glanced up, then put down the newspaper and invited the manager to sit down. "What would you like to drink?"

The manager looked back at the menu on the counter. "I'll have a classic coffee."

Classic coffee referred to the kind of classic coffee that Federationers liked, with coffee and at least two sugar cubes added to milk.

"I'm trying to persuade him to repay the money," the two hadn't spoken before, but it didn't seem awkward at this time.

Lance took out a pack of cigarettes, pulled out one, and handed it to the manager. "Looks like you haven't succeeded."

The manager sighed. "He probably feels like he can't save face, and he doesn't have that much cash on hand."

Lance took a puff of his cigarette, crossed his legs, "Our view of 'being rich' isn't whether he has the corresponding cash; movable and immovable property are both manifestations of wealth."

"He has the ability to repay, but he keeps refusing to pay, and I've heard that the restaurant's business has been very good in the past few months, under your leadership."

The waiter brought the coffee, and the manager said thank you, picked it up, and took a small sip. "Mr. Anderson's dishes are very well done, and his apprentices are also good. I just give people the opportunity to be exposed to the food he makes, that's all."

This was a very humble statement, but Lance liked humble people.

"Have you ever thought about changing jobs?"

"I might start a company in the future and need a manager."

The manager became a little interested. "What kind of company?"

"Providing consulting services, solving some troubles, similar to a lobbying group."

The manager's interest visibly diminished. "I haven't been involved in this industry, and I don't have any connections, so I probably can't help you."

Lance didn't seem to feel any regret; it was just a casual question, and the two fell silent.

After a while, the manager suddenly asked, "There are only a few hours left until dinner time. Are you still planning to find homeless people to defecate at the restaurant entrance to prevent us from opening tonight?"

Lance shook his head. "Originally, I had such a plan, but seeing that Mr. Anderson needs someone to push him now, I've decided to change my approach."

The manager immediately became interested. "What are you planning to do?"

"Don't worry, I won't tell Mr. Anderson, because I also hope this matter can be resolved as soon as possible."

"If he can make up his mind, I will continue to work here. If he can't make up his mind, I will leave. So, in any case, the worst case is that I'm just an observer, not someone who suffers a loss."

Lance started to play coy. "Soon you will know…"

Seeing that he couldn't get anything out of him, the manager didn't stay any longer. He still had to go back to prepare for the restaurant's evening business.

Obviously, the events of the past few days had caused many people to have some doubts about the restaurant. He had to retain these customers while minimizing these effects.

Free meals, raffles, gifts, and even drawing a chance for the head chef to cook personally, he had some methods.

And Lance made a phone call to Alberto.

As soon as the phone was connected, he heard his hearty laughter. "I've heard, Lance, you had people defecate at his restaurant entrance."

"What should I say?"

"Although the method is base, the effect is really very good. I am very satisfied!"

"What kind of help do you want to get this time?"

"Mr. Corti, do you know where I can find a honeywagon?"