Fate

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

"Don't worry. He'll be back once he's done with his business," Shaya said.

Hart nodded, then sighed. "Your friend is really hardworking. He doesn't even have time to eat the meal he ordered."

"Yeah," Shaya agreed. "I originally wanted to have a drink with him today."

"But it's normal, really. Jobs in the Imperial Capital have become harder and harder to find these past few years, and the competition is fierce," Hart said.

Shaya was enjoying the food in front of him with his knife and fork. Hearing that, he asked curiously, "Is it that hard to find work in the Imperial Capital?"

Hart raised his brows and sized Shaya up, while Shaya was sizing him up as well.

The owner had a finely groomed pencil mustache and carried himself with the air of an upper-class gentleman, though he looked more like the steward of some noble household. Perhaps because he had accumulated so many worries over the years, his forehead was lined with deep wrinkles.

He smiled faintly. "Judging by your clothes and bearing, you must come from a good family and have no need to work, right?"

Without waiting for Shaya to answer, he continued, "In recent years, quite a few people from outside have come to the Imperial Capital. They work hard, and most of them used to farm, so they're strong and sturdy. Most importantly, they always try to get jobs by offering to work for lower wages.

"Of course those big bosses prefer giving work to people like that."

Shaya raised his brows and nodded. "True."

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

Shaya thought for a moment. "It's hard to explain, but his work requires some technical skill, so he isn't afraid of being replaced by outsiders.

"And his workplace is pretty good. It has a steady stream of customers.

"You could call it a public institution. Once he becomes permanent, it's hard for him to get fired. The only issue is that his hours are uncertain. Sometimes he's busy, and sometimes he has plenty of free time."

"That sounds pretty good." Hart nodded. "These days, having a stable job is already something to be grateful for."

"Just making a hard-earned living," Shaya said with a smile.

As he spoke, he cut off a piece of sausage with his knife and fork and put it into his mouth. The rich aroma of meat blossomed across his tongue. It was fatty yet pleasantly chewy, excellent in both texture and flavor.

No wonder Sebas had recommended it so enthusiastically. It really was worth trying.

"Hey, who isn't?" Hart said with feeling.

He glanced toward the kitchen, then said, "I still have work to do, so I won't keep chatting with you. I hope your friend's work goes smoothly and his customers keep coming."

Shaya raised one eyebrow with an odd expression, but still replied.

"I'll take that blessing."

However, Hart did not leave immediately. He remained where he was, looking toward a storefront not far away. The group that had just left had now entered another shop.

It was a flower shop. The owner was a woman holding an infant still wrapped in swaddling clothes. Tears glistened in the corners of her eyes as she said something to the group, though they were too far away to hear. From the looks of it, she seemed to be begging them for something.

The child in her arms was wailing, while the people arguing with the mother were smiling.

Hart placed a hand on the table and clenched the tablecloth tightly without saying a word.

"Do you believe evil will be repaid with evil?"

The voice from behind interrupted Hart's thoughts.

He turned around and saw the gentleman he had just been speaking with leaning back in his chair. One hand held a teacup, the other its saucer. He was quietly watching Hart, waiting for his answer.

"Evil repaid with evil?" Hart asked, puzzled.

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

Hart fell silent. After a moment, he smiled bitterly. "Sir, I'm just an ordinary man. I don't think about such things.

"I only want to make a little money, support my family and my employees, and let them support their own families."

Shaya nodded, set his teacup on the table, and continued.

"I believe it."

"What do you believe?" Hart asked.

"I believe there is some kind of heavenly justice in this world, one that determines good and evil, justice and injustice, cause and effect, and retribution," Shaya said steadily, a trace of contemplation in his eyes.

At least, this world had such a thing.

"That sounds profound," Hart said with an awkward smile. "You must study philosophy, right?"

"More or less," Shaya said. "Either way, it's the kind of major that can't find work."

Hart continued, "Though I don't understand some of what you said, I know what you mean."

He had met many young people like this. They had lived privileged lives since childhood, never faced much hardship, and had been well protected by their families. They had never seen the dark side of society, so they harbored many naïve ideas.

He turned toward the group in the distance and murmured softly, "When you reach my age, you'll understand. There are always many things in this world that aren't as beautiful as you imagine.

"There are too many cases where good people receive no good reward, while bad people make it to the end."

Shaya silently took a sip of black tea and said nothing more.

Hart turned around as well, preparing to enter the kitchen.

"Director! Director, watch out!"

The commotion from one side drew his attention.

He turned his head and saw that Director Rick had apparently fallen to the ground for some reason. One of his shoes had even flown off to the side.

The uniformed personnel hurried over and helped Rick up, then picked up his shoe and set it beside his foot.

Rick rubbed his hip in pain, cursing as he shoved his foot into the shoe. But he was clearly too fat to bend over and pull up the heel, so he lifted his foot backward and tried to slip it on.

But standing on one leg was obviously a difficult feat for someone of his weight. He struggled to maintain his balance and tipped to one side, hopping his raised foot several times to the left in an attempt to steady himself.

But it was clearly no use. His attendants realized what was happening and tried to rush forward to support him, but they were too late.

His entire body crashed heavily to the ground, and the back of his head struck the sharp edge of the curb with a solid blow.

Even from here, Hart could hear the teeth-grinding sound of bone shattering.

Blood mixed with some other fluid continuously flowed from beneath the back of Rick's head, spilling into the foul-smelling gutter beside the road.

Many people witnessed the scene, while the people from the Commercial Administration Bureau stood frozen in place.

The entire street fell silent.

After several seconds of stunned delay, panicked and hoarse cries rang out from among them.

"Director!"

"Quick! Get him to the hospital!"

"Stop the bleeding! Stop the bleeding first!"

They clumsily crowded around Rick, trying every possible way to save him.

But everyone knew that with an injury where the back of the head hit the ground, the chance of survival was practically nonexistent.

Rick was dead?

Hart had not even processed it yet. It felt absurd.

He had imagined many times what Rick receiving his deserved retribution would look like. Perhaps a new emperor would take the throne and launch a massive crackdown on corruption in the Imperial Capital, or perhaps Rick's patron would fall from power and he would be purged by the new faction as well.

But he had never imagined this.

A simple—an utterly simple accident?

For some reason, Hart suddenly recalled his conversation with Shaya and instinctively looked at him.

Everyone was shocked by the scene before them, but Shaya remained composed, as though none of this had surprised him.

He held his knife and fork in both hands, elegantly enjoying his breakfast. Amid the chaos, the sound of his utensils striking the metal plate was especially distinct.

Seemingly noticing Hart watching him, Shaya picked up the napkin beside him and wiped his mouth. Then he remarked to Hart.

"Fate really is impossible to predict, isn't it?"