Chapter 607: The Red Book (3)
Capitalism.
True to its name, it referred to a social system rooted in wealth.
Recognizing personal property rights, each member of society operated with the goal of profit, thus maintaining and developing the society. In simple terms, it was an economy dominated by capital.
Though the birth of this capitalism traces back hundreds of years, it could be said that its golden era was in the present. Unsurprisingly, capitalism pervaded society like air and water.
Oliver was no exception.
“What do you mean, Child, Big Mouth?”
Oliver, holding the worker suppression baton FRP-105 given to him by Joe, looked back at Child and Big Mouth with confusion.
Talk of revolution, ruling classes, chains, and labor—it all sounded like gibberish to him.
For reference, the riot baton had the words "Diligence, Industriousness, Honesty" engraved in red, much like the red book in Child’s hand.
“We…we won’t submit!”
Child-First stepped forward and shouted. Technically, it was that Second, Third, Fourth, and Big Mouth had taken a step back.
“You bastards.”
First cursed at them, and in the meantime, Forest whispered to Oliver seriously.
“Now’s the time. Hit First over the head.”
“What?”
Oliver, startled, repeated the question. Although he had reflexively taken the baton handed to him by Joe, he hadn’t planned on using it to hit anyone.
“It’s the rule. When a protest breaks out, you have to retaliate with blood.”
“Don’t lie, old man!”
First yelled in outrage.
At that moment, Joe interrupted.
“It may not be a rule, but it’s generally true that protests are suppressed with violence.”
Surprisingly, Joe was serious.
Oliver shook his head.
“No, I took it because you handed it to me, but I don’t intend to hit anyone with it. It seems rash to just start hitting people.”
“That’s why you use the baton. Usually, they’d shoot instead.”
“Oh my gosh.”
“Grrrrr.”
First, Second, Third, Fourth, and Big Mouth were all appalled.
Yet, surprisingly, it was true. Although Landa’s approach to protests (baton beatings) might seem excessive, it was considered a mild response.
That was because outside of Landa, they responded far more aggressively.
For instance, hiring a few gunmen to shoot the protest leaders, setting their homes on fire, or, if the protest became particularly intense, paying handsomely to hire a Pinkman to spray bullets with a Gatling gun.
It followed the logic of capitalism: it was cheaper to hire gunmen than to meet workers' demands.
“Compared to that, Landa actually considers the workers’ welfare, opting not to shoot and instead subduing them with this special baton.”
Forest held up the worker suppression baton FRP-105.
It looked like a simple baton, but its rubber-coated surface minimized physical injuries while maximizing pain, making it a worker-friendly suppression tool that countless factory owners preferred.
“A worker’s body is their capital, so if they’re injured, they’re thrown out on the streets. You could say this baton is, in a way, considerate of them.”
“So hitting them with this isn’t unfair violence—it’s actually thoughtful.”
“Ooh…”
“Don’t be convinced!”
At Joe and Forest’s words, Oliver’s resolve wavered, prompting First to shout at him.
After the commotion settled down, Forest quieted everyone and spoke up.
“Now, enough jokes.”
“You weren’t serious?”
“When things get too tense, joking it off is the adult way of talking. Besides, didn’t we gather here for an important reason?”
Indeed, Oliver, Forest, Mari, Joe, Child, and Big Mouth were all gathered here in the conference room to discuss an important subject.
The topic was what kind of business the redevelopment coalition would undertake in the future and how they would run it.
Forest, who oversaw all the business operations, spoke first.
“Honestly, I don’t understand why we’re even discussing this.”
“How to run the business?”
“Yeah, that. Originally, what’s the purpose of this business?”
“To create jobs.”
“No! It’s to make money. And do you know what’s required to make money?”
Oliver shrugged his shoulders.
“To hire workers as cheaply as possible.”
“Revolution! Revolution!!”
“Make the ruling classes tremble before the revolution!”
“Unite! You have nothing to lose but your chains! You have a world to gain!!”
“Labor! Alienation! Exploitation!”
“Grrrrrr!”
Just as at the beginning, Child and Big Mouth shouted, and Jo once again politely offered the worker suppression baton FRP-105 to Oliver.
When Oliver declined to take it this time, Forest tried to persuade him.
“It’s not like I’m saying this just for my own benefit.”
“Lies, old man.”
“Yeah, lies. But it also aligns with your goals.”
“My goals?”
“Yes, to create jobs, right?”
“Yes.”
“To create even a single additional job, you have to pay workers the minimum wage.”
“And why is that?”
“Suppose you pay a worker 10 Landas a week.”
“Yes.”
“Then you can only hire one person, right?”
“Yes.”
“But if you pay them 5 Landas each, you can hire two. You create two jobs.”
“Oh.”
“If you pay 3 Landas each, you can hire three and one-third workers. That means you could provide jobs for three adults and one child.”
“Ooooh.”
“That’s insane.”
Listening to Forest and Oliver’s conversation, Child was genuinely appalled. What was even more shocking was that the average worker earned less than 10 Landas a week.
“Don’t be so harsh. There’s no shortage of people willing to work for that. It’s a rational price based on supply and demand.”
“So, the only answer is revolution?”
While Child was seriously contemplating this, Oliver raised his hand with a question.
“Yes?”
“Isn’t it true, Mr. Forest, that you offer relatively high wages to your employees? The restaurant workers, for example.”
“Those aren’t just people who serve food. They’re skilled workers—those with manners and a sense of style. It’s fair compensation for maintaining the restaurant’s service standards.”
Forest, a former restaurant worker, defended his position.
“And, considering the nature of my work, I’m paying them fairly. It also includes hazard pay.”
“That’s it!”
Hearing Forest’s words, First raised the red book in his hand and shouted. The book’s cover had a slogan written in red.
“...What’s that?”
“Wages, working hours, treatment. If you improve those, productivity goes up.”
“Oh.”
“Don’t listen to him; it’s nonsense.”
“Grrrr. Shall I show you what a dog really is?”
“Everyone, please don’t fight.”
Oliver instinctively picked up the worker suppression baton FRP-105 and pleaded. Forest and Third immediately stopped, showing that they could indeed understand each other.
In a situation that nearly turned into a fight, First regained his composure and presented his argument logically.
Just as Forest paid higher wages at his restaurant to raise service quality, if Oliver’s new business offered better pay and shorter hours, workers would be more motivated, directly impacting productivity.
“Even in Bin City, the Dark Magician Guild. They guarantee high wages and rest time, producing high-quality products. Improving worker morale creates profit. It’s worth trying.”
First and Fourth, who had interacted with the dark magicians in Bin City, argued convincingly.
It seemed that, rather than just inspecting dark magic items, First and Fourth were more interested in the processes and systems behind their creation.
This was good news. It meant that Child’s focus had shifted to something more complex, symbolizing his growth.
Oliver mentally noted to add this to Child’s observation log after the meeting. For now, though, he needed to stay focused on the meeting.
“What are your thoughts?”
After hearing First and Fourth’s explanation, Oliver asked Mari and Joe, who had been silently observing the meeting.
Oliver wanted to hear the thoughts of Mari and Joe, who were directors of the redevelopment coalition, as he found First and Fourth’s points reasonable.
Joe spoke first.
“I think First and Fourth’s opinions make sense.”
“Exactly!”
“But just because they make sense doesn’t mean they’re guaranteed to succeed.”
“Of course not!”
“On the other hand, if we just stick to minimum wage, we at least secure the minimum labor force. The key to business is to reduce variables.”
Jo, who had recently started night school after saving some money, spoke convincingly, to which Child-Second retorted.
“Do you even have the right to say that?”
Second asked if Joe, who had once lived as a pauper in the slums of District X, had any right to speak like that. However, Joe merely shrugged, saying he was only offering his opinion as a director of the redevelopment coalition.
In truth, Joe’s comment held no malice. It was simply a rational view in line with the trends of the world.
“What about Mari?”
“I only wish to follow the director’s intentions.”
As usual, Mari expressed her opinion cautiously, ensuring that Oliver would not feel pressured. Still, she offered advice.
“However, I do think First and Fourth’s words have merit. People tend to show greater motivation in a stable environment than in an unstable one.”
This time, Joe and Forest did not voice any objections. Though they didn’t state it outright, they seemed to acknowledge Mari’s competence, having previously led a significant congregation.
“What’s more, if we’re going to experiment, it’s better to do it at the start. Early on, any issues can be managed, whereas attempting it too late would make it much harder to address any arising problems.”
Unlike her previous unwavering faith in Oliver, Mari now presented her perspective with logical support.
In a way, she seemed incredibly composed. Since coming to Landa, she’d gradually regained her stability, and recently, she seemed even more so. Her progress was impressive enough that she’d managed to establish a reliable representative for the congregation back in Gallos. Oliver looked at her intently.
“Director? Is there something you wish to say…?”
“No, I just think you’ve made a very reasonable point. Certainly, it won’t be too late to try it out and make adjustments.”
“Looks like you’ve already made up your mind.”
Forest, having picked up on Oliver’s intent from the flow of the conversation, commented.
Evidently, Child and the others had picked up on it as well, as First, Second, Third, Fourth, and Big Mouth gave each other high-fives.
“Hooray!”
“Increased wages and reduced working hours.”
“This is our victory!”
“Grrrr…”
“What? By ‘workers’ here, I mean people, you know?”
Oliver’s comment poured cold water on Child and Big Mouth’s celebration, and they shot Oliver scornful, disgusted glances, as if asking if he was serious.
“It’s a joke.”
It was merely a joke based on the adage that a great manager should have a sense of humor, but Child and Big Mouth continued to glare at him with disdain and contempt. It wasn’t easy, it seemed.
“Mr. Forest, was it that unfunny?”
“Hmm, I’d say refraining from jokes could be a strategy in itself.”
“Unacceptable.”
“Oh, why?”
“Otherwise, what’s the point of me reading a humor book for an hour before bed every night?”
“Oh, who knows? Especially since you lack the talent.”
“I do have a talent for humor. I’m even putting effort into it.”
“No, no, no.”
Forest denied him three times.
It was quite a blow. Oliver turned to Jo.
“Jo.”
“Yes!?”
“Do I have no sense of…?”
But Oliver couldn’t finish his question. Even Joe, who typically remained calm under most circumstances, was visibly uncomfortable, rubbing his face in stress. That response was answer enough, and Oliver felt wounded.
“Mari-”
“-Don’t pester the poor girl!”
Forest raised his voice, trying to teach Oliver that knowing when to quit is a virtue.
“And a manager doesn’t need humor; they need vision. With that in mind, what is this new business? With the redevelopment of District X halfway complete, it’s time to plan our next project.”
Despite the bruising to his pride, Oliver composed himself and responded.
“I’m considering a modified business based on Filgaret.”
“Filgaret?”
Forest repeated in surprise. Though Oliver was making strides to bring dark magic into the mainstream, he seemed to be moving too quickly.
A business, after all, comes with an image. Despite some debate, Filgaret was largely viewed as a drug business, at least by the general public.
In fact, one of the conditions for the Chosen settling in Landa was the cessation of Filgaret Gift production.
“No, it’s a modified version of Filgaret.”
“Explain further.”
With a businesslike expression, Forest listened intently.
“Do you remember when Third extracted druidic knowledge from a corpse at the Enjoyment site?”
Forest nodded. How could he forget? Just as they’d begun redeveloping District X, the druids from Enjoyment had settled in, creating obstacles.
Not only obstacles—they had tried to take over entirely. It could have derailed the project before it even began. But Oliver had resolved the issue alone.
And in just half a day.
“That corpse contained various kinds of knowledge. Druid training methods, rituals, techniques for honing the body and mind, and the medicinal herbs they used.”
“I’m listening.”
“There was one particular herb the druids cultivated for calming the mind. It’s popular with politicians, business people, and artists alike. Perhaps because of that, it’s classified as a pharmaceutical product rather than a drug. I was thinking we could produce and sell it.”
“I get what you mean, but how?”
Forest asked an obvious question.
Like any plant, the herbs cultivated by druids were highly profitable, making them highly coveted by those who wished to grow them independently.
However, two key reasons had so far prevented this from happening.
First, the druids were too powerful for anyone to steal the herbs.
Second, even if the herbs were stolen, they couldn’t be grown without natural forces and specialized cultivation methods.
“Surely, you didn’t manage to obtain any seeds?”
“No, but I acquired something similar.”
At Oliver’s request, Big Mouth produced a box containing herb seeds brought from Bin City.
“Squeeek!”
These were pirated goods, specially sourced from the eastern lands. They were originally intended for research ordered by the reformist druids, who were now the main faction, advocating for using nature to benefit humanity. Unlike the traditionalists who worshiped nature, or the hedonists of Enjoyment, these druids had a stronger sense of responsibility.
‘They’re also friendly with Edward X.’
Oliver continued his explanation.
“Apparently, the druids are interested not only in their own plants but also in flora from around the world. The note attached to the box says this was a custom order for research purposes.”
Oliver pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket, showing it to Forest. This eastern plant was expected to produce effects similar to the calming herbs grown by druids, once slightly modified.
“By ‘expected,’ you mean it’s not a sure thing?”
“Yes. That’s what makes it worth trying.”
“Dave, I have faith in your skill and talent, but do you know how to modify plants? It’s a meticulous process that demands a lot of time and money.”
“That’s why I plan to do it my way.”
“Your way?”
“Yes, I intend to process the herb using dark magic, much like Filgaret.”
Forest finally understood Oliver’s intent.
Applying the Filgaret method of infusing shredded tobacco leaves with emotions to herb cultivation.
It was a simple yet bold approach, something only possible with knowledge of both nature’s power and dark magic—a rare combination.
For that reason, it could be considered a revolutionary concept.
“But won’t the druids retaliate?”
“The druids don’t hold patents on nature’s powers, do they?”
Forest felt as though he’d been struck with a hammer.
He wasn’t wrong. There was no patent on druidic power or their herbs.
They didn’t need one, of course. Even so, they anticipated a significant challenge, especially given the current alliance between the druids and the royal family.
“I trust in your capabilities, Mr. Forest.”
“Thank you for the confidence. At this rate, I’ll lose my sleep schedule.”
“Well, then we’ll just eliminate sleep from your routine.”
Forest’s eyes widened at Oliver’s bold statement, and Child put a hand on his shoulder, as if recognizing a fellow comrade.
Forest called to Oliver.
“Is that a joke?”
“Of course. I do have a few more ideas for other businesses, but I think it’s best we stop here for today.”
“Dave? Look into my eyes.”
“Thank you all for your hard…wait, is that a bird?”
“Don’t change the subject.”
“No, seriously, it’s a bird.”
Oliver pointed to a pigeon sitting on the conference room window.
It was more sleek and wild-looking than an ordinary pigeon, with a red beak and a faint aura of blood magic emanating from its body.
Oliver had a good guess as to the pigeon’s owner: Erzsébet Ünner, a current ally, disciple, and daughter of the Báthory Family head.
In the past, she’d pledged loyalty to Oliver, offering to help him however she could—by providing information about the Tower of Magic, for instance. It seemed she was keeping her promise.
Oliver approached the pigeon.
Flap.
Despite being controlled by blood magic and supposedly unable to fly away, the pigeon struggled when Oliver drew close, so he asked Joe to catch it instead.
“There’s a note tied to its leg.”
Joe, having secured the pigeon, reported.
Joe promptly brought the note to Oliver, who unfolded and read it.
“What does it say?”
“It seems the Tower of Magic is considering assigning me to clean the contaminated zone within F-District.”