Magical Journey: The Other Shore Blooms on the Other Shore

Where there are people, there is society; where there is society, there are disputes.

Competition is everywhere.

In the elegant gardens of Demiéville, competition between people often manifests as competition between magical dolls. In a highly automated and modernized country, the gradual decline of traditional crafts is a foreseeable event.

Traditional bakers can't compete with those magical dolls who can measure seasonings down to the milligram.

Traditional civil engineering workers can't compare to those magical dolls who can endure wind and sun every day.

Magical dolls are sufficient to replace almost every conceivable traditional craft. Kafka's ability to uphold his craft to this day is legendary.

They rely on the reputation accumulated by their ancestors.

Kafka managed to keep a small workshop afloat thanks to his skill in repairing clocks almost perfectly.

Perhaps it's because he charges very low prices, and the watch won't break after a single repair, while the repair time is very long. Even Kafka, in this era of complete dollification, is finding it hard to keep up.

He needed a mouth to eat, and Diana also needed to have her internal organs replaced frequently.

This small workshop requires a considerable amount of rent.

All of this costs money, and all of this depends on the orders Kafka took.

But now, Kafka has no more orders to take. His workshop is surrounded by watch repair shops, which have no human workers at all; they are all made by magical dolls.

Kafka quoted a repair fee of one gold coin.

They only needed a silver coin and a few minutes to fix the clock. Kafka, on the other hand, often needed three days to fix his clock.

This is not because Kafka was incompetent.

Rather, the clocks repaired by those shops are far less accurate than Kafka's, and they might break down again in a few months.

Even so, people still prefer those shops. People don't really need highly precise clocks; as long as they work, that's enough. If they break, they can just be repaired.

Regular customers wouldn't come back because Kafka had repaired the clocks so well they were practically unbreakable, and new customers wouldn't choose Kafka's dilapidated old workshop.

It's inevitable that they will be phased out gradually.

“Mr. Kafka, this is… this month’s bill.” Diana carefully handed over the money that the official had brought.

Kafka had been idle for a month, during which he considered finding other part-time work. But the only thing he had to offer was clock repair, and that profession was already saturated.

After a whole month without any income, the workshop had no choice but to take out a bank loan to keep it afloat.

However, if the problem of having no business is not resolved, borrowing from banks is like drinking poison to quench thirst.

“Just leave it there.” Kafka pointed wearily to the table, then sat down in a chair, staring blankly at the dilapidated ceiling.

“Mr. Kafka, you could easily use magical dolls to fix the clock, just like they do,” Diana said. “With your reputation, it shouldn’t be difficult to revive your business. The doll that official downstairs sent over is perfectly usable.”

“I told you, I won’t use that soulless doll,” Kafka said.

“Diana doesn’t mind, really,” Diana said.

It's all fake, and I mind that, but for Mr. Kafka's sake, Diana, who should have been eliminated, should be set aside. She's been helping repair clocks for years, yet she's still only a half-baked expert.

I'm really useless.

“I mind,” Kafka said. “Go and rest. I’ll figure out the money!”

"Kafka..."

"Let me go!"

Diana left, glancing downstairs at the headless magical doll that had been gathering dust since it came to her home.

"Master, why is that? Diana doesn't understand," Diana sighed, and walked away.

……

Reality is not a game of make-believe. It won't give you a piece of candy just because you feel sorry for it. Many times, it will even slap you in the face.

“Your workshop will be used to pay off the debt, and in addition, you must repay the remaining debt, Mr. Kafka,” said a bank official in a leather coat, looking calmly at Kafka.

"Could you grant me a few more days?" Kafka pleaded.

“We are not philanthropists. If everyone begged us to delay loan repayments, our bank would have gone bankrupt long ago.” The official remained unmoved by Kafka’s words.

And so, Kafka's workshop was taken away.

Even so, he still owes a lot of interest on loans.

“Let’s talk about settling the remaining debt,” the official continued. “Given your financial situation, the bank has the right to auction off all your belongings to provide financial compensation.”

“I have nothing left!” Kafka said. “I still have one life to live.”

It seems that bank officials are already used to such scoundrels.

After all, the Garden of Demi-European Elegance needs those penniless losers who can't pay their debts due to unemployment. Those people don't deserve to stay in the city; they'll be exiled to the remote wilderness to reclaim land for the Garden of Demi-European Elegance.

"Don't you still have a magic doll? It's not worth much, but..."

"boom--"

Before the official could finish speaking, he collapsed to the ground.

Just now, Kafka punched him hard in the face.

“She is not my property—” Kafka roared.

He looked like a rabid beast that had lost its mind. But in the Garden of Demi-Europe, that would only mean the law enforcement team would come and take him away.

"Madman!" The official, scrambling to his feet, glared at Kafka. "Why don't you punch yourself? What do you think got you to this point? It's your blockhead brain!"

Kafka has already been taken away by the arriving law enforcement team.

If nothing unexpected happens, if we're going to see him, it'll probably be in a slum in some remote border region.

There, he could continuously reclaim land for the country to repay the value he owed.

On the same day Kafka was taken away by the law enforcement team, a hooded magical doll left the country.

When Diana woke up this morning, Kafka implanted a crucial order in her mind: she had to leave the country before dusk no matter what, and was not allowed to return.

She was completely powerless to resist the order; as a magical doll, her own interests were secondary. Her body didn't belong to her at all.

Executing the master's orders is the duty of any magical doll.

Diana originally felt that she should be happy to carry out orders, and that she would feel indifferent no matter what, just like when she was abandoned by the factory manager. Being abandoned was also an order—she could accept being eliminated with a clear conscience.

But she feels extremely sad now.

Even though I have no heart and no heartbeat, I am extremely sad.

Can magical dolls actually feel sad?

She knew exactly what she wanted to do; she wanted to go back and help Kafka, but she couldn't.

Diana wandered around for nearly a month, a situation that continued until she met someone who changed everything.

To be precise, she encountered a humanoid magical doll just like herself.