They turned to look.
Over a dozen officers had gathered beside the director of the Public Security Bureau. He looked at Damian with a sincere expression, his tone earnest to the point of being almost servile:
"Sir! We heard of young master Elliot's noble act of charity and feel deeply ashamed! All of us at the Public Security Bureau would also like to make a modest contribution, as a token of our goodwill!"
"Huh...?"
Without waiting for a reply, he thrust a bulging money pouch onto the flatbed cart beside Damian:
"This is not merely my personal contribution, but the wish of every colleague at the Public Security Bureau! Everyone feels this way; they simply find it difficult to express it in ordinary circumstances. I can hardly go against the will of the people..."
With that, he turned and walked away, stopping a short distance off, where the entire group saluted in unison.
"Should... should we accept this, Father?" Holding the money pouch, the society members found the whole thing utterly absurd.
There was still mud on the director's hands, and he had smeared it all over the pouch, as though the gold pounds themselves were filthy.
"...Accept it." After a long silence, Damian spoke in a dry voice. "Enter it in the ledger. This money will also go toward distributing Holy Communion."
The society member beside him nodded and began counting. A little later, he spoke in disbelief:
"Father, there... there are three hundred gold pounds..."
"...How much did young master Elliot donate for Holy Communion?"
"One hundred gold pounds..."
"..."
A pound of hard, dry black bread could keep a starving person going for a day and cost only about four leo. A pound of flour cost even less than one leo. One hundred gold pounds amounted to