Empire of Shadows

Our

Jamie cried for a while until his emotions were mostly released. Then he suddenly felt a bit embarrassed, mixed with some worry. “Even if we don’t want to count on this, what choice do we have?”

“You know, people in the Federation are biased against us.”

It wasn’t just bias—it was discrimination.

Someone had once tried to report to the police after being robbed. But that undocumented immigrant worker refused to say where he was from and had no money to buy a ticket home. He was sent to an immigration detention center.

The dockworker who robbed him didn’t even face a quick trial. The police just scolded, “Don’t cause us more trouble,” and closed the case.

It wasn’t only local workers who discriminated against and hurt them, even the police, who were supposed to represent justice, discriminated and bullied them.

This made many undocumented immigrants feel hopeless because here, even the police and the law stood against them—they didn’t even have basic human rights.

Even those legal immigrants who had proper status faced discrimination and differential treatment in many situations.

This country was never as good as it advertised itself to be.The first person to refuse compromise spoke a name. “Mr. Lance. We want to talk to Mr. Lance.”

Jamie was uncertain. “Will that even work?”

“I mean, I’m not like Elvin and the others—I’m not that familiar with him. Will he really stand up for me?”

The man’s voice was firm. “We’re from the Empire. That’s enough!”

Faced with that determined gaze, Jamie hesitated but agreed.

Before lunch, they returned to the office. The office was still bustling, with many people asking about work uniforms.

Many were unhappy that the office only accepted job applications from undocumented immigrants. They said they were willing to work at the office too—these were legal immigrants or local workers.

Lance told Sean to calm everyone down and began thinking about the situation.

His original intention was to use unified work uniforms to give these undocumented immigrants a sense of collective pride so they could unite around him.

But now, just this benefit already attracted some legal immigrants and local workers. This forced him to expand his thinking—maybe he could open another office.

But there was also a problem: legal workers’ labor dispatch jobs weren’t as easy to do as those for undocumented immigrants.

For undocumented immigrants, as long as the income was stable, they didn’t care if it was a little more or less.

But local workers and legal immigrants had salary demands. If their wage demands weren’t met, it would be hard to take a cut from them.

It’s simple: if they found dock work on their own for thirty-three dollars, or Lance found it for them for the same thirty-three dollars but took one dollar from their income, they wouldn’t be happy.

But undocumented immigrants were willing to accept that—one dollar, two dollars—they were willing to take it as long as the job and environment were stable.

Now, Golden Port was full of job opportunities. Lance thought that even if he wanted to do it, it wasn’t the right time. But he could build good relationships with these people—he could use it someday.

So he let Sean handle the matter, only telling everyone he would consider it. When or whether he would do it was another question.

“…You wouldn’t believe how ridiculous their expressions were!” Gerald said with a big smile, telling Lance about leaving Mr. Bolton’s house.

Mr. Bolton’s family treated him like a cash cow. At first, it was okay. But from August, they found every excuse to squeeze more money out of him.

Gerald’s salary wasn’t high to begin with, and on top of that, he was exploited, so by the end of each month, he was left with only about ten dollars.

Meanwhile, Rob (Gerald’s cousin) often borrowed money from him—one or two dollars at a time—and never paid him back.

You could say the whole family was trying every way to suck him dry.

Fortunately, he finally left, and Lance was already gaining some reputation among Empire immigrants. Mr. Bolton was sensible enough to try hard to keep him.

When it was impossible to keep him, they let him go without saying anything bad—just told him that if he couldn’t survive outside, he could come back.

When it came to being petty, Rob still had much to learn from Mr. Bolton.

“…So, what should I do next?” Gerald looked forward to his new life. Here, there was no exploitation from Mr. Bolton, no Rob’s constant mockery, no Aunt Nancy’s cold stares.

He felt better than ever; everyone was a good friend.

Lance looked Gerald over from head to toe. “Tell me what you want to do first.” In fact, Lance already had some ideas but wanted to hear Gerald’s first.

Gerald looked lost. “I don’t know, maybe… you just assign me a job?”

Lance explained some current job options. After discussing, they found nothing Gerald could do.

Or rather, nothing he especially liked. He had come here hoping to work with everyone, not to become an ordinary worker somewhere else.

The only jobs left for Gerald seemed to be clerical work, which he might not even do well.

As for being a thug?

Looking at his delicate, almost androgynous face, maybe the people he beat up would ask him to “go easier.”

This made Gerald a bit frustrated. He thought he could contribute something to Lance.

Seeing his disappointed expression, Lance proposed an idea of his own. “I have a somewhat immature suggestion. Maybe you can consider it.”

Gerald looked at Lance. “You don’t have to comfort me. I really can’t do anything well. Maybe I’ll just clean for you guys. I’m good at that!”

At Mr. Bolton’s place, he was the one who cleaned—it was part of his boarding deal.

Lance shook his head. “Why don’t you listen to me first?”

Gerald quieted down, and Lance gave him a path he had never thought of before.

“You should become a star, Gerald.”

Gerald’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You mean a star?”

“Me?”

“Me, become a star?”

“My God, I never thought about that!”

Lance thought this idea was quite feasible. “You’re handsome. Handsome enough to be beautiful. I know you might be sensitive about this.”

“But Gerald, you can’t deliberately avoid the strengths God gave you. You should bring out your strengths.”

“You know, Empire people have a low status in the Federation, plus that damned emperor’s mental illness. The whole Federation isn’t friendly to us.”

Gerald nodded. “I know. I’ve experienced it. They always look at us differently.”

He had legal status but still faced the same problems—some colleagues mocked him “as a joke.”

One went so far as to ask if he shouted the same way during sex as with a woman!

It made him furious, but there was no way to fight back because the other quickly said, “I’m joking. You’re not mad, right?”

He understood how hard it was for Empire people in the Federation.

Getting Gerald’s agreement, Lance continued. “So, not only do we have to make ourselves strong, but we need to find windows for Federation people to understand us. Being a star, a public figure, is a good breakthrough.”

“They will be curious about your life, curious about your people. These will become opportunities to change the situation for Empire immigrants.”

“Of course, this is only if you don’t oppose it.”

Listening to Lance, Gerald suddenly felt this might be a good choice. He was one of the victims of discrimination and felt empathy.

“Can I really do something for all of us, change our situation and environment?”

Lance was certain. An idol is a special kind of power, and more importantly, it’s an advantageous ‘home turf megaphone.’ The Federation’s local fans will speak for you.

But Gerald also had concerns. “But I can’t perform. I can’t sing. I don’t know anything.”

When he said this, it meant he actually agreed.

“That’s not a problem. I’ll arrange people to teach you. You’re still young.”

“And I’ll help you get opportunities on the big screen. No matter the final outcome, at least we tried, right?”

Gerald took a deep breath. “Lance, I trust you. I believe you won’t harm me…”

Lance was about to tell him about the follow-up arrangements when someone knocked on the office door. Hiram peeked in at Lance. “Something happened. I’ve arranged people in the yard.”

The yard meant the backyard behind the street-facing house. Lance nodded and called Gerald to come with him.

Jamie wasn’t dressed—only wearing shorts. His friends told him only like this could Mr. Lance see how miserable he was.

When Lance saw Jamie’s appearance, he frowned. Elvin wasn’t here, and Hiram had become his number one lackey, but Lance didn’t like him much.

Not because he disliked the person, but because Hiram was always hanging around, shaking his hair pointlessly, which hurt Lance’s image.

But Hiram thought his hair shaking was cool. According to himself, some girls even screamed because of it.

Lance suspected they were disgusted, not impressed.

Hiram brought a chair for Lance, who sat down. Hiram lit a match early. Despite looking dumb, sometimes he was useful.

Lance took out a cigarette and lit it. “What happened?”

Jamie’s emotions were more stable now; all his grievances turned into hatred. He gritted his teeth and told the whole story. Lance listened quietly.

Gerald was already a bit overwhelmed. “This is too much bullying!”

After speaking, he realized Lance was in charge here and felt it wasn’t his place to talk. He took two steps back sheepishly.

He was only sixteen. Lance wouldn’t blame him, giving him a reassuring look. Then he looked at Jamie. “This is infuriating. So, what do you want me to do?”

Jamie didn’t know what to say, but his companion put a hand on his shoulder and bent over. “Mr. Lance, please help us seek justice!”

Lance nodded without saying yes or no. “Are you sure your description is accurate? You know, this isn’t simple if I’m to seek justice for you.”

Jamie realized this was the only chance to stand tall again. He even knelt on the ground. “I swear everything I said is true. Please help me seek justice.”

“Get up. I’m not one of Camilla’s people. I’m no different from you. We don’t need this kind of formality.”

He thought for a moment. “I’ll arrange this. Come by tomorrow morning before work.”

He looked at Hiram. “Give Jamie a new set of work clothes and take him to the doctor for some medicine.”

Lance flicked ash from his cigarette. “He used violence to hurt our brother, so let’s use violence to make him realize his mistake.”

“You’re all my brothers. I want you to know, even though we’re far from home, I will still take care of you and not let anyone hurt you without reason.”

“We don’t start fights, but we can’t be hurt either. Remember that!”

After they left, Lance called Ennio over. “I need someone from your side this time.”

Ennio admired Lance deeply and agreed without objection. “No problem. What do you need?”

“I plan to deal with that idiot Johnny at the docks tomorrow. This will definitely attract the attention of the port police station. So I’ll need someone to take the blame.”

“But don’t worry. I’ll handle the police side, and I’ll get Johnny to voluntarily drop the charges. So the person will probably be detained for a few days.”

“As compensation, whoever does it, I’ll pay ten dollars a day.”

Ennio said, “I’ll do it.”

Lance glanced at his arm. “You’re not afraid your arm will break again and leave you disabled? If so, then you go.”

Hearing this, Ennio hesitated. His biggest worry now was his arm becoming deformed. “I’ll talk to them. I believe everyone’s willing.”

“Better be that way. Pick someone strong, fearless, and bold. Although it’s very likely they’ll be locked up at the police station, it won’t be a good place.”

Lance’s advice was serious. Ennio nodded. “I understand. I’ll handle it now.”

Ennio and his group had seven people altogether. Besides him and Morris, there were five others, all working for Lance now.

He briefly said someone named Baker volunteered for the job. Lance sized him up—about 1.8 meters tall, tall for this era.

Not bulky, but definitely not skinny, more on the solid side.

Lance patted his arm. “Scared?”

He shook his head. “Everyone feels honored to work for you, Mr. Lance.”

“Call me Lance!” Lance emphasized, throwing him a cigar. “Tomorrow morning, we’ll go to the docks, find the guy who bullied us, and I’ll break his arm. The police will come later.”

“You just plead guilty. I’ll arrange the rest. They’ll probably detain you for three days to a week. I’ll give you seventy dollars.”

“That’s too much, Lance,” Baker said, feeling the extra pay was generous. “You’ve already taken good care of us.”

Lance raised his hand to stop him. “If you don’t take it, then next time this happens, how will others get paid?”

“You’re paying some price for us. If you don’t take it, others will think it’s my problem, not yours.”

“That’s not a good habit, Baker. You should take it, and if anyone asks, you can say it’s what you deserve.”

Baker scratched his head, not quite understanding but still agreed.

Lance immediately gave him seventy dollars, regardless of how long the detention would last, and told Hiram to prepare.

This dumb donkey face could be annoying sometimes but was really clever.

Lance then called Officer Ferren out to the nearby coffee shop.

“This is for you, Mr. Lance,” the coffee shop owner brought over a cup of coffee and some pastries as Lance sat down, surprised and looking at him.

The owner was a man in his forties, looking kind. “Thanks for running the office next door. It’s really helped my business. I don’t know how to repay you, so… this cup’s on me.”

“Thanks.” Lance raised his coffee. “Very good.”

The owner didn’t stay long and left quickly.

About ten minutes later, a police car stopped outside the café. The owner was about to greet Officer Ferren to remind him that his payment for the month was done, but Lance raised a hand early. “Don’t worry. He’s here for me.”

“Bring three more cups of coffee, one here, two to go, and a big bag of donuts. This time, I’m taking care of it myself.”

The owner smiled, preparing the coffee. He felt Lance was a true gentleman. Talking to him gave a special feeling.

It was like… being respected.

Even though the café owner was a Federation native, he still lacked respect.

“Anything I can help with?” Ferren’s partner stayed in the car and didn’t get out.

He supported himself on his holster and came over. Lance pointed to the nearby chair and sat down.

“I have something tomorrow morning I hope you can help with.”

When the owner brought the coffee over, neither said more. After he left, Ferren asked, “What’s going on?”

Lance didn’t answer directly but pulled out a stack of bills, counting out forty dollars. “An idiot offended my people. I want to teach him a lesson and prevent him from making false reports to mess up my plan. So you and your partner come directly then.”

“Everything goes through the normal process. The guy will be locked up at your precinct. Arrange for someone to look after him.”

“I’ll get the idiot to voluntarily drop the charges within a week. We’ll settle it privately.”

Ferren rubbed his hair. “This might be difficult to manage…”

Lance added ten more dollars onto the pile—now fifty.

Ferren stared, surprised. “I don’t mean that.”

Sixty.

“Lance…”

Seventy.

People’s thoughts can be weird. He pursed his lips. “I…”

Eighty.

He wanted to say more, maybe see if he could get more money, but Lance placed a pistol bullet on top of the bills and looked at him…

(End of Chapter)