The black sun hangs high

Chapter 8 "A Poor Man"

Hughes certainly didn't have the habit of tearing up city paving stones and crawling into the city sewers in broad daylight.

He's not some legendary rat-man.

After burying these clues and traces in his heart, Hugh stopped at the bus stop by the roadside and joined the waiting line.

The Peace News Agency was located at the other end of Seren City. Although Seren City was not large, he did not want to waste too much time walking. If it weren't for verifying what happened last night, he could have chosen to take the public magic carriage as soon as he left home.

In the Lovi Plateau and the Goddess Plains, such public transportation is common, but their numbers in each city are relatively limited. The Legal Council has long since reached the pinnacle of its use of magic-infused crystal mines. However, a large vehicle that can transport dozens of people at the same time and is powered by magic is often extremely expensive to build.

Now, with the rise of steam and machinery, more and more alternatives are emerging on the Lovi Plateau. Hugh's homeland, the Kingdom of Wotel, is at the forefront of this technology. Perhaps it won't be long before this old-fashioned magical means of transportation is squeezed out of the historical stage by its cheaper and better competitors.

After all, in the eyes of most people, producing a machine that can directly convert magic into power by burning crystal ore is far more cost-effective than spending a lot of money and favors to find consultants and experts from the Legal Committee to inscribe magic patterns.

After all, choosing the latter would mean permanently associating with those dangerous and stingy mages.

Soon, Hugh boarded a vehicle bound for the western side of Seren.

The vehicle was extremely crowded, with people packed tightly together. The strange smell was suffocating, and the perfumes sprayed inside made the odor in this cramped space even more indescribable.

"It's a hundred times worse than rushing to catch the subway early in the morning."

Hugh held his breath and huddled in the corner of the carriage. It wasn't that he didn't want to stand closer to the window, but simply because he was too thin and couldn't squeeze past the tall and strong passengers next to him.

His feet were almost off the ground.

In this situation, let alone reading the newspaper, even normal breathing became a problem, so Hugh gave up struggling. He tried his best to hold the paper bag containing the manuscript tightly, and then resignedly shifted his attention to his own mental world.

Like other spellcasters in Vaan, having completed his first magical inscription, he can now normally accumulate magic power within his body. However, magic power in the natural environment is often thin and unstable. After a whole night of rest, the magic power that had been completely depleted by that unknown tentacle magic had only recovered to about 80%.

“This won’t do… No one can only use their trump card once. And judging from the previous situation, if I use this magic, I’m very likely to faint on the spot.”

Hugh imagined himself facing unexpected situations and enemies, and found himself both amused and exasperated.

The saying "when in doubt, sleep it off" probably best describes my current situation.

After all, lying on the spot waiting to die after exhausting one's magic power is indeed no different from "taking a nap".

"If I can't get what I really need in the dream world, then I have to find a way to connect with other spellcasters... either the Spell Council or those civilian organizations that the Spell Council marks as 'wild mage groups.' In short, I must get systematic learning of the theories and methods for using spells and increasing my magic power."

As Hughes pondered this, he couldn't help but recall the young female mage from the Legal Committee who had already reached the "Lake Level" the previous night.

He remembered that the female monk had said that members of the Legal Affairs Committee would be visiting him today... This was yet another new variable.

Hughes's goodwill toward the Legislative Council is really limited.

The sensory difference between creating something and facing something directly is considerable.

At least Hughes is certain that when he typed "The Legislative Council adheres to the principle of neutrality" into the document, the smile on his face must have been extremely twisted and ferocious.

His past life experience told him that "neutrality" is often just a false facade that cannot withstand any test.

The car gradually came to a stop, and the doors were violently opened. People immediately pushed and shoved each other as they poured out of the open doors and into the streets of Seren.

Hugh got off the bus with the crowd. He took a deep breath of fresh air and then, relying on his body's memory, headed towards the Peace Newspaper Office.

……

The newspaper office was unusually busy today, a sight that seemed out of place in the rest of Seren. Hugh noticed that despite being one of Seren's most important locations, the newspaper office had almost no festive atmosphere. There was only a wrought iron decoration and a poster casually hanging on one of the walls.

Apart from that, there was no other trace of the "ceasefire celebration".

Good morning, Mr. Ernst.

A young female clerk with heavy makeup swayed over, wearing a long printed dress that was currently the most fashionable in the Kingdom of Delan. She was carrying a thick stack of manuscripts. She winked at Hughes and then gave him a bright smile.

Hugh was separated from her by a table, so the female clerk leaned forward slightly, placed the stack of manuscripts on the table with both hands, and then leaned closer to Hugh.

Hughes gave a polite smile.

He suppressed the urge to sneeze, subtly taking a half-step back. After avoiding the overly strong perfume, he nodded and replied, "Good morning, Miss Kiri... I'm here to see Editor-in-Chief Philip. Today is the deadline for the manuscript."

"Oh, of course I know!"

The female clerk, Miss Kiri, leaned forward again: "I just came from Mr. Philip's office. Um... he's talking to an important guest, so would you mind resting at the table outside for a while while I get you a glass of water?"

"Thank you."

Hughes didn't want to get too entangled with the woman in front of him. He really didn't like the strong perfume, so after thanking her, he walked toward an empty table next to the office.

In just two short steps, no fewer than five clerks greeted Hugh.

These are all veteran clerks from the Peace Newspaper. They've been working here since Hugh Ernst first arrived in Seren, so they know Hugh's submissions inside and out. Among the clerks who just greeted him, some are even his loyal fans.

These corporate slaves and lechers hiding in newspaper offices always manage to see what they want to see first.

This was one of the few things they looked forward to and received each month. The faint sounds of arguing drifted from the editor-in-chief's office. It seemed the portly editor-in-chief, Philip, wasn't getting along too well with his guest. Considering that journalists are always among the most agile and quickest to gather information, regardless of the era or world, Hugh immediately perked up his ears and focused his attention, trying to catch the topic of the argument in the office.

It was really too noisy inside the newspaper office.

No matter how hard Hugh tried, he could only hear fragmented words and couldn't piece together the indistinct sounds. He couldn't help but frown, and with a slight movement, he leaned against the wall, adopting a somewhat tired posture. Then, he perked up again and continued to eavesdrop on the sounds inside the room.

A miraculous change occurred at that moment.

Just as Hugh was focusing all his energy on eavesdropping, he suddenly felt his dormant magic disc begin to slowly rotate. As a result, the sounds around him suddenly became faint and distant, while the conversation in the office next door sounded exceptionally clear.

"Ok?"

Hugh's eyebrows twitched sharply. He almost immediately noticed the change in the magic power within his body—as the magic disc slowly rotated, the little magic power he had stored was being consumed at a steady rate!

"It seems to be some kind of magical effect... just like the speed of my reaction when I caught the wine glass last night."

Hugh quickly assessed his magical reserves and then began to listen attentively to the argument taking place in the office.

He first heard Philip's deep, resonant voice.

“Mr. Morel, you overestimate the influence of our Peace Newspaper in the city… You should know very well that not many residents in the city really care about those matters. I have a copy of today’s newspaper here. You can look at the last two pages of news about Seren. Here, no one wants to fight with the other people they live with!”

Then, a voice responded to him.

"Oh? Is that so?"

“Editor-in-chief, you should know that our people have already been operating in Seren... and the conclusions we have drawn from the people do not quite match what you have been saying recently.”

Compared to Philip's deep voice, "Mr. Morel's" voice was relatively smoother, and in Hugh's own words, it had a "greasy" quality that was typical of someone who had spent years in high society. Although his tone was not forceful, his words carried a hint of sarcasm and irony.

"If you felt that you and this newspaper had limited capabilities, then you should have told us sooner, instead of waiting until today to start regretting it... Do as we say! Don't forget which boat you're on now..."

Faced with Mr. Morel's aggressive demeanor, Philip, as the editor-in-chief, was clearly powerless, so he muttered to himself, "Only seven days left."

“That’s enough, Mr. Editor-in-Chief. Just do as we say…”

Hugh was listening intently when, unexpectedly, a strong scent of perfume wafted from a glass and came to him. Then, Hugh saw the figure in the floral dress sit down opposite him.

As Hugh's attention wandered, the continuously spinning magic disc came to a standstill, and naturally, the conversations coming from the office became as indistinct as they had at the beginning.

"Damn it!"

Hugh cursed inwardly, but outwardly smiled politely: "Miss Kiri, aren't you very busy?"

“Mr. Ernst, have you forgotten? As the secretary to Editor-in-Chief Philip, it is my job to take good care of such an important contributor as you!”

As she spoke, she pushed the glass of water towards him, her bright red lips forming a smile that made Hugh feel slightly uncomfortable: "I was just reading your previous articles yesterday, haha, they were really..."

She lowered her voice, her tone becoming strangely unpredictable: "Fantastic!"

"Uh, thank you for the compliment."

Hughes reached out, intending to use a tactical drink to cover his embarrassment, but then noticed a lipstick mark on the rim of the glass. He immediately stopped and subtly changed the subject: "I just heard an argument in the office. Don't you want to go check it out? Perhaps Editor-in-Chief Philip needs your help."

"The guests he was entertaining had terrible tempers and wouldn't allow anyone else to be present during their conversations. I was the one who was kicked out."

The brightly dressed female clerk laughed again: "To be honest, it's much more pleasant to chat with someone like Mr. Ernst."

"..."

Just as Hugh was beginning to lose control of the ferocious look on his face, the office door finally opened.

Then, the large-statured editor-in-chief, Philip, came out first.

As before, he had a mustache, and his bulky body stretched his clothes too tight, making him look ridiculous.

After leaving the office, Editor-in-Chief Philip made a very respectful "please" gesture, and then a tall, thin middle-aged man in a black tuxedo and wearing a monocle came into Hugh's view.

This must be the "Mr. Morel".

As if sensing Hugh's gaze, Mr. Morel suddenly turned his head and looked over.

Hugh instinctively controlled his breathing and expression. His face was already pale, and at this moment he looked like a poorly rested or overindulgent noble youth, leaning against the chair and the wall, appearing weak and listless.

Hugh clearly felt the other person's gaze wandering.

He felt that in just a moment, Mr. Morel seemed to have looked him over in detail, examining his features and facial expressions. After that, he said nothing and walked toward the newspaper office entrance accompanied by Editor-in-Chief Philip.

"Who is that young man? He seems to have Ernst family blood."

After leaving the newspaper office, Mr. Morrel turned to Philip, who was standing beside him, and asked him a question.

So the obese editor-in-chief replied with a smile, "Just an illegitimate son abandoned by the Ernst family. Now he can only make a living through some low-class writing. Ha, what a pathetic wretch!"

(End of this chapter)