After making arrangements with the two ghosts, Shade returned to the lawn in front of the Underground Tomb entrance in the cemetery to wait.
He waited for more than half an hour. There was also a simple farewell ceremony in the Underground Tomb, and the guests attending the funeral understood Mrs. Wosente's feelings.
While Shade stood beneath the tree, someone finally took the initiative to strike up a conversation with him. It was one of Mrs. Wosente's business partners, who owned a Coal Processing Plant in the south of the city.
The man knew Shade's identity and thus asked whether he could help deal with some troublesome permit documents:
"To improve the air in the city, Tobesk recently imposed restrictions on operating hours for factories like ours that emit exhaust fumes. Mr. Hamilton, do you know how much money that will cost me?"
The fat, middle-aged merchant in a tie coughed. He was not putting on an act; there truly seemed to be something wrong with his lungs:
"If you ask me, there is no evidence that the city's fog harms the human body, nor any evidence that this dense fog makes people ill. I even think this 'taste of industry' can make children stronger. Mr. Hamilton, I won't ask for your help for nothing."
He began coughing again, his face flushing red as his lungs made the sound of a broken bellows.
Shade was certainly short of money, but he would not take money earned through such a rotten deed. Besides, he had no connections in city hall to pull strings. He tactfully refused the fat merchant's request. The latter seemed to think Shade found the payment insufficient, so he could only mutter as he walked away, quietly complaining about the Greed and shamelessness of "those noble lords."
"Honestly,