Destiny

Hart looked at the two plates of food on the table. "But what about these?"

"Don't worry, he'll be back after he finishes his work," Shaya said.

Hart nodded, then remarked, "Your friend works really hard. He doesn't even have time to eat the meal we ordered."

"Yeah," Shaya agreed. "I was planning to have a drink with him today."

"But it's normal, really. Work in the Imperial Capital is getting harder to find these years, and the competition is fierce," Hart said.

Shaya, who was using his knife and fork to enjoy the delicious food in front of him, asked curiously upon hearing this, "Is it that hard to find work in the Imperial Capital?"

Hart raised his eyebrows and sized Shaya up, and Shaya was also sizing him up.

The boss had a very refined handlebar mustache, exuding an air of high-class nobility, but he looked more like a butler for some noble family. Perhaps it was due to the many troubles he'd encountered over the years, as his forehead was etched with many worry lines.

He smiled faintly. "Judging by your attire and demeanor, you must be someone from a well-off family who doesn't need to work, right?"

Without waiting for Shaya's reply, he continued, "In recent years, many outsiders have come to the Imperial Capital. They are diligent workers, and most of them were farmers before. They are strong and robust, and crucially, they always like to secure jobs by lowering wages.

Naturally, those big bosses prefer to give jobs to these people."

Shaya raised his eyebrows and nodded. "True."

"What kind of work does your friend do?" Hart asked curiously.

Shaya thought for a moment. "It's a bit difficult to explain, but his job requires some technical skills, so he's not afraid of being replaced by outsiders.

Also, his workplace is good and has a stable customer base.

It's a public institution. Once he's confirmed, it's very difficult to be fired. The only downside is that his work hours are uncertain; sometimes he's busy, and sometimes he's very idle."

"That sounds pretty good," Hart nodded. "In this day and age, having a stable job is already great."

"Earning an honest living," Shaya chuckled.

As he spoke, he cut a piece of sausage with his knife and fork and put it in his mouth. The rich, meaty aroma bloomed in his mouth, abundant in fat yet possessing a perfect chewiness. It was excellent in both texture and taste.

No wonder Sebas had recommended it so enthusiastically; it was indeed worth trying.

"Hey, who isn't?" Hart said, empathizing.

He glanced towards the kitchen, then said, "I need to get back to work. I won't chat with you here any longer. I wish your friend smooth work and plenty of customers."

Shaya raised an eyebrow with a strange expression but still replied, "Thank you for your kind words."

However, Hart didn't leave immediately. He remained standing in place, his gaze fixed on a shop not far away. The group that had just left here had now moved to another shop.

It was a flower shop. The owner, a woman, was holding an infant in her arms. With tears in her eyes, she was speaking to the group, but the distance was too great to hear clearly. However, it seemed she was begging for something.

The child in her arms was crying loudly, but the people arguing with her mother were smiling.

Hart placed his hands on the table, gripping the tablecloth tightly, and remained silent.

"Do you believe in karma?"

A voice from behind him interrupted Hart's thoughts.

He turned his head and saw the gentleman he had just been chatting with leaning back against his chair, holding a teacup in one hand and a saucer in the other, quietly watching him, awaiting his answer.

"Karma?" Hart asked, a little confused.

"That's a Buddhist saying," Shaya explained. "It means that those who do evil will eventually receive retribution from heaven."

Hart fell silent. After a moment, he gave a bitter smile. "Sir, I'm just an ordinary person. I don't think about such things.

I just want to earn a little money to support my family and my employees, so they can support their families."

Shaya nodded, placed the teacup in his hand on the table, and continued.

"I do believe in it."

"Believe in what?" Hart asked.

"I believe that there is a certain natural order in this world, that it determines good and evil, and that actions have consequences," Shaya said calmly, with a hint of contemplation in his eyes.

At least, it exists in this world.

"What you're saying is very profound," Hart said with an awkward laugh. "You must be a philosophy major, right?"

"Something like that," Shaya replied. "It's a major that's hard to find jobs for, anyway."

Hart continued, "Although I don't understand some of it, I understand what you mean."

He had seen many young people like this, who had lived privileged lives since childhood, never encountering difficulties, and were well protected by their families. They had never seen the dark side of society, and thus they held many naive ideas.

He turned his head and looked at the group of people not far away, murmuring softly, "When you reach my age, you'll understand that in this world, there are always many things that won't be as good as you imagine.

In this world, good people don't get rewarded, and bad people often reach the end successfully..."

Shaya quietly took a sip of his black tea, no longer speaking.

Hart also turned around, preparing to enter the kitchen.

"Director! Director, be careful!"

The commotion from the side attracted his attention.

He turned his head and saw that not far away, Director Rick seemed to have fallen to the ground for some reason, with one shoe flung to the side.

The uniformed personnel immediately stepped forward to help Rick up, then picked up the shoe and placed it by his feet.

Rick touched his hipbone in pain, grumbling as he put his foot into the shoe. However, he was clearly too fat to bend down and fasten the heel, so he lifted his foot backward, trying to pull the shoe on.

But this "golden rooster stands on one leg" pose was obviously a high-difficulty maneuver for his weight. He struggled to maintain his balance, tilting to one side, and his foot hopped a few times to the left as he tried to keep steady.

But it was clearly no use. His entourage reacted and tried to rush forward to support him, but it was too late.

He fell heavily to the ground, his back of the head striking the sharp edge of the sidewalk.

Even from here, Hart could hear the sickening sound of bones cracking.

Blood, mixed with other fluids, flowed continuously from the back of Rick's head, seeping into a nearby foul-smelling gutter.

Many people witnessed the scene, and the officials from the Commercial Management Bureau were stunned in place.

The entire street fell silent.

After a few seconds of reaction time, panicked and shrill voices erupted from the crowd.

"Director!"

"Quick! Get him to the hospital!"

"Stop the bleeding! Stop the bleeding first!"

People scrambled around Rick, trying various methods to rescue him.

But everyone knew that the chance of survival for an injury like hitting the back of the head was practically zero.

Rick was dead?

Hart hadn't even processed it; it felt absurd.

He had imagined many scenarios for Rick receiving his just deserts, such as a new emperor ascending the throne and cracking down on corruption in the Imperial Capital, or his patron falling from power, leading to his own purge by new forces.

But he had never imagined it would be like this.

A... simple, unbelievably simple accident?

For some reason, Hart suddenly remembered his recent conversation with Shaya and subconsciously looked towards him.

While everyone else was shocked by the scene before them, Shaya remained composed, as if he wasn't surprised.

He held his knife and fork, elegantly enjoying his breakfast. In the chaotic environment, the clinking of his cutlery against the plate was particularly noticeable.

As if sensing Hart looking at him, Shaya picked up a napkin, wiped his mouth, and then said to him with a sigh.

"Destiny is a truly unfathomable thing, isn't it?"