Throne of Magical Arcana Chapter 897 - Les Misérables

897 Les Misérables

As a young man, although he was brilliant in plays and quite experienced in certain aspects, and it was not his first trip outdoors, such a situation was still too much for him to bear. That was his living expense for the next couple of months!

What should he do? What was he going to eat? Where was he going to sleep?

Countless questions flooded into his head with frustration and anger, making him feel that the sunny afternoon was dark and that the crowd around him was indifferent and distant as if they were in different worlds.

“b.l.o.o.d.y thieves!”

After a long time, Oliver burst out a howl that almost tripped over the pa.s.sersby.

When he howled, he grabbed his suitcase tightly, fearing that another thief would emerge and steal his last possessions.

Not bothering the other people who were eying him as if he were a psycho, Oliver unleashed his feelings. After a while, he finally calmed down and began to consider how to survive.

“Calm down, calm down. Oliver, you have the talents, the appearance, and the physical strength to live through the difficulties.” Oliver encouraged himself and thought quickly, trying to find a solution from his experience, but most of his experience came from plays.

“That’s right. At such a moment, all I need is someone who appreciates me. My new life will begin there.” Finding a solution from his plays, he clenched his fists. “Oliver, your most precious belonging is not your lost wallet, but your mind and the scripts in your suitcase. As long as you show them to the gentlemen with good tastes, you will immediately get a decent reward.”

Having found a solution, Oliver regained the spirits of a young man. He took out a few thick piles of papers from his suitcase. Clutching them tightly, he asked the way while he fantasized what he would buy after he became rich; an extravagant house, several obedient and beautiful maids, delicate and delicious food, famous wines, hot lovers, and most importantly of all, a few goons to kill the b.l.o.o.d.y thief!

The Society of Plays, located in Alanmu Street, was not far away from the gate. Oliver saw the unique building that was supported by gray stone pillars very soon.

He paused when he saw the guards at the door. He remembered a commonly used cliche in plays, which was that the hero was refused by the proud guards because of his ragged clothes, and therefore had to achieve his purpose through other indirect approaches.

“I cannot make such a mistake.” Oliver felt that he was really smart to take that into consideration. So, he walked to a square nearby and combed his hair, which had turned messy during his earlier catharsis, in front of the pool that was as smooth as a mirror. He then took out a new black coat from his suitcase, replacing the dirty one on his body. In the end, he folded a handkerchief into a flower and put it in the pocket on his chest.

“An elegant gentleman.” Oliver nodded in satisfaction and walked to the gate of the Society of Plays again.

He did not bother to look at the guards when he approached the gate. He merely snorted condescendingly when they came to stop him.

The two guards, deceived by his easiness and his appearance, thought that he was a n.o.ble sir and moved back, daring not to stop him.

“Haha. Oliver, you are fantastic! You will make it!” Oliver complimented himself and walked faster.

“Hey! Hey! Let me tell you, I will be the greatest playwright in the future! You can’t be so impolite!”

Several minutes later, Oliver was picked up by two brawny men and thrown off the stairs.

“Get lost, fraud!”

“What an arrogant lunatic!”

They cursed and tossed Oliver’s suitcase and scripts out.

Crack.

The suitcase was opened when it hit the ground, and his clothes and scripts were blown away.

Watching his most cherished scripts fly before him and land in the dust, Oliver was at a loss for a moment before he roared in fury, “You will regret it!”

A young gifted playwright like me will definitely achieve something great!

Packing up his stuff in misery, Oliver wandered on the street aimlessly, not knowing what he could do or where he could go.

“I’ll find a shelter tonight and take a look in the city hall tomorrow to see if I can get a job.” Seeing that the dark clouds were rising, Oliver recovered from his frustration and gnashed his teeth. “I can create poems. I’m good at words. How will I be starved in Rentato?”

Gradually, he picked up his confidence. He found shelter under the eaves and hid below it.

Hualala.

A torrential rain poured, raising a mist on the ground.

Oliver was dazed by the scene before he suddenly turned happy. “My experiences today will inspire my future creations!”

Pa.

Oliver felt that his head was exploding. He struggled to turn around, only to discover that a homeless guy was glaring at him.

“This place is mine!” The guy pointed under the eaves.

The fury that Oliver had the entire day burst out. As a young man, he roared, “I occupied it first!”, while he lunged forward and fought the homeless guy.

Suddenly, his face was frozen, and his eyes lost the focus, because another homeless guy came from behind him and knocked him hard in the head with a wooden stick.

Darkness, blood, pain, and coldness haunted Oliver, making it impossible for him to get away from the unimaginable misery.

After trying his best, Oliver suddenly sat up. The darkness before his eyes faded, revealing the dim candlelight before him.

“Where… Where am I?” he mumbled, looking at the shabby cottage. He felt that his head was in pain.

“My house.”

A man’s cold voice echoed. The door to the room inside was opened, and a stout, tough-looking baldy walked out. “You’ve been sold to me.”

“What?” Oliver jumped off his bed in disbelief, only to be knocked to the ground by the man with one punch.

“Call me boss, do you understand?” The man showed his muscles. “Shut your mouth and listen to me.”

His head felt dizzy after the punch. Oliver touched his swollen lips and looked at the baldy in fear.

The baldy chuckled. “As an outsider who does not have money or strength, you were bold enough to fight local homeless guys. Hehe. After they knocked you out, they stole your clothes and sold you to me. From today onward, you will be my subordinate. You will be freed when you have done enough labor to compensate for the money I paid for you.”

This bad*ss does not seem too bad… Covering his lips, Oliver asked, “What do we do?”

“We bury,” the baldy replied in disgust.

When it was only dawn, the baldy, who was named George, led Oliver to a morgue.

“The bodies that do not have relatives or money are stored here. It’s our job to bury them in the new cemetery. We’ll be paid by the Church and the city hall.” The moment George opened the gate, the stench of decayed bodies spread out, making Oliver who never smelled such a thing before gag hard.

Many other burial men in ragged clothes were in the morgue. They were all George’s subordinates.

“Hey, quite a few new babies are here today,” George said in delight. Then, he strode to the newly-delivered bodies and searched them carefully for possessions that might be of any value. If their clothes were relatively intact, he would simply take them off.

Oliver sweated and s.h.i.+vered hard, feeling that he had come to h.e.l.l.

After he was done looting, George laughed. “Boys, let’s get to work!”

Oliver moved the bodies to a special wagon unwillingly. When he touched the cold skin, he almost jumped away. He felt that his hand was so dirty that he was almost stinking himself.

The burial men were together all the way from the morgue to the new cemetery. Oliver did not have any chance to escape. Baldy George also told him that he had connections in the Church and the city hall, and that if Oliver dared to escape, he would be buried in the new cemetery directly.

The stench of rotting bodies was everywhere in the new cemetery, causing the slums nearby to smell the same permanently.

“Only poor people live here. The reverends of the Church never bother to clean it here,” George complained and asked Oliver to dig holes.

The new cemetery had been preprocessed by the reverends. So, chances were few that undead creatures would show up. They were rather confident.

Holding the shovel, Oliver dug pits mechanically and numbly. In the middle of his digging, several bones appeared out of nowhere, forcing him to step back in fright.

“Has this place been taken?” George touched his bald head. “It’s alright. Just bury on the top of them,” he said unconcernedly.

Bodies were thrown down, and mud was sprayed on the top of them. Very soon, the land was even again.

George found a wooden tombstone and put it at the center of the cemetery. There were no sigils or epitaphs, only a shabby cross.

“Is my life going to end like this?” In the stench, Oliver thought numbly and confusedly.

…

In a manor in the suburb, the hall was ablaze with lights, and delicious food could be smelled everywhere.

“What’s his name? Well, Vicente, would you like one? This is the best cigarette from the Kingdom of Brianne.” A fas.h.i.+onable young n.o.ble, black-haired and blue-eyed, grimaced at Vicente while holding a few yellowish cigarettes in his hands.

Both his countenance and his tone were full of condescension.

Blus.h.i.+ng, Vicente shook his head. “I’m sorry. I don’t smoke.”

“Yo, what a mama’s boy. No wonder s.h.i.+rley likes you,” the young n.o.ble said sarcastically.

s.h.i.+rley, who was not far away from Vicente, moved forward and raised her head. “Yes. I hate men who drink, smoke, and do not have any manners.”

Then, she dragged Vicente to a dinner table not far away and said in a low voice, “Vicente, please don’t mind. This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have asked you to join this dinner.”

“It’s alright. We are going to be married soon. I will have to face this sooner or later.” Thinking of his dream, Vicente announced proudly, “I’m very open-minded. It’s true that I’m not a n.o.ble who has been enjoying those things since childhood, but I’ll try to be better than them and make sure that your future life won’t be any worse.”

Far away, s.h.i.+rley’s parents looked at them with cold expressions.