Chapter 27
Chapter 27
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 27
Chapter Title: Improving the Constitution of a Modern Man (2)
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“You have informants? Who?”
Everyone's heads snapped around.
“My little brothers.”
“Georg, you have a little brother?”
His younger brother, Theodor Roman, was already living happily far away. The personnel records they'd found last time listed his parents as deceased, so he had no family left.
Georg had said on the train ride back that no one knew he had a little brother.
He'd only told me because he had no choice while searching for his sibling, and he'd asked me to keep it a secret.
So then...
“You mean kids like you selling newspapers, right?”
I asked with a slight smile, and Georg nodded vigorously.
“Not just newspaper boys—plenty do other jobs too. Shoe shiners or chimney sweeps.”
“Ah, right, you mentioned living with friends.”
Oscar spoke up as if remembering, but everyone still looked a bit puzzled.
“Newspaper boys, shoe shiners, chimney sweeps. Definitely good jobs for picking up rumors. But I thought you'd been keeping it secret all this time.”
“I haven't been hiding it.”
Georg bristled a little at Richard's words.
“No, I just didn't see the need to mention it. If one of us gets caught, the less we know about each other, the better, right?”
“That's true. We've already come too far, though...”
Erika said skeptically.
“So, Georg, you're saying you'll use those kids as informants?”
Daniel asked cautiously.
“I'll be the informant. I won't tell them anything about the White Crow Unit. I'll just ask about the stories they've heard.”
“But you're too—”
“If you're about to say I'm too young!”
He cut Daniel off and turned to me, speaking clearly and deliberately.
“Brother, my brothers and I roam the streets all day. We talk to lots of customers, so it's easy to gather info. Everyone else is busy or too noticeable to get out there. No matter how I think about it, I'm the only one who can do it. Let me help.”
“I didn't recruit you expecting that. No need to feel pressured.”
“No, that's not it. I want to help too.”
Daniel tried to persuade him gently, but Georg was adamant.
I rubbed my chapped lips, met Daniel's eyes, and shrugged.
“Then what did you expect when you recruited Georg?”
I asked lightly, and I could see Daniel's pupils dilate slightly.
“If you wanted to protect him because he's a kid, you shouldn't have let him join the group. The danger started right then. Isn't that right?”
Georg nodded eagerly. Daniel hesitated, looking troubled.
“You're right, but to make excuses, I didn't bring Georg in first. He showed up with the flyers, hiding and grabbing me. He wanted revenge on Krüger. I told him he was too young, but he wouldn't listen.”
I glanced at Georg, then looked away.
“He's got a silver tongue. Once we accepted him as a member, we have to treat him equally. We don't have the luxury to discard our cards, you know?”
“So this is what you meant by dropping the half-hearted attitude...”
A snort escaped me, like air leaking out.
“It's obvious. Why form the White Crow Unit if we're going to do it half-heartedly? Hell, Georg helped make and post those flyers. Wasn't that risky?”
“Still, we were as careful as possible—”
“Brother.”
Georg called him in a serious tone.
“You don't need to go easy on me. Really.”
Daniel locked eyes with the boy.
After a long stare-down, he hesitated for a moment before slowly nodding.
I lowered my hands, interlaced my fingers neatly, and looked at the members.
“We need to toughen up. Got it?”
“Mm, how tough?”
I ignored Oscar's question.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ And so, we launched the White Crow intelligence network (working title).
Georg took advantage of a newspaper boy quitting to redistribute territories with his colleagues and change the early-morning delivery routes.
In other words, he adjusted them so Mrs. Schmidt's boarding house fell within his area. Very naturally.
“Newspaper!”
Every morning, a small note was tucked inside the paper he tossed over the fence.
Collin, now quite a bit bigger, would fetch the paper, and I'd unfold it first to secretly retrieve the note.
Mrs. Schmidt knew I liked reading the paper, so no suspicions there. Georg and I had settled on this method after discussion.
I recorded the info in my notebook. After Mrs. Schmidt finished with the paper, I'd clip out photos and articles at night, scrapbooking them like the old Lucas used to.
The rumors Georg brought back were quite varied.
Some businessman cheating with a movie star, Ossel raiding a house, a family going bankrupt and fleeing debt collectors in the night...
Stories of unknown truth, seeming trivial. I recorded every one without fail.
Experience had taught me harshly that info gains power when piled up.
After Mrs. Schmidt went to bed, Daniel, Oscar, and I would pretend to drink in the kitchen, sharing the intel. Freelance reporter and columnist Daniel verified rumors during his rounds.
Oscar picked up plenty from factory coworkers and foremen too.
“Keep drinking and gambling with them like before. Listen closely to what slips out. Please.”
“Is that a request or a demand?”
Oscar grumbled but dove into the gambling dens with ears wide open as asked.
He'd lose big some days, but mostly won small amounts and bragged about it. I was certain.
This guy's a card sharp.
I asked Erika and Richard to remember anything they heard too.
Erika balked, saying she wandered alone and rarely talked to people. Still, as a rich girl, overhearing her parents or servants would yield something.
Richard smiled softly and agreed, as always.
Turned out, loads of patients unloaded stories on the kind, good listener. As expected.
I kept digging through records at work.
Except for rare visits from other staff seeking files or leaving stuff for typo checks, it was endless reading and sorting till my eyes burned.
Even with improved stamina, I'd collapse exhausted after work.
“Ughhh, I'm dying...”
“Here.”
Today, sprawled on the sofa groaning, Daniel approached and placed a cold-water-soaked towel over my eyes. No fridge in the boarding house, so ice pack substitute.
The cool sensation eased the burning pain a bit.
“Thanks. Lately, I even read documents in my dreams.”
A light laugh and sigh came from beside my ear.
“Aren't you being too hasty? You've been like this since you changed, but I just don't get it.”
“Who knows when that mad dictator will pull something.”
“True, but still. Take care of your health anyway. Oh, right. You probably haven't heard, but Oscar—”
Bang!
The front door flew open with a loud crash.
“Lucas! I'm moving in starting today! Help with the luggage!”
“No energy, get lost!”
On the first of December, Oscar finally cleared out his old room and moved into the boarding house.
Mrs. Schmidt had hesitated a while, but Oscar's charm offensive won her over.
Cheaper rent, closer to the factory, all around better.
And soon after, I scattered imaginary papers in the air and whispered a cheer.
“It's... all... done...!”
Very quietly.
After months, I'd finished reading every document and extracting the essence. A true miracle.
Now I can quit this dogshit job!
Of course, new files would keep coming, and no job was this stable, but I'd long decided to quit once I'd absorbed everything.
The growing side-eyes and pressure from colleagues. The office chief treating me like air, tossing my paycheck envelope without a word on payday.
The vibe screamed something would blow up if I lingered, so I wanted out ASAP.
Of course, it wasn't simple.
Resigning outright would raise suspicions. And where to go next?
Ditching a civil service gig I got through connections—a near invalid with no stamina or skills—who'd hire me?
There was one idea worth trying, though...
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ “You're serious?”
On a day when the first snow poured down.
The White Crow Unit gathered after a long time. In the dingy, crowded corner of a tavern, Erika stared at me in disbelief.
“Opening a bar? You bragged when you joined that being a civil servant gave great access to info. Last time, you pushed us hard to gather intelligence. Now you're suddenly quitting? What the hell?”
Her quiet anger held 10% worry, 90% reproach.
I listened silently, then raised a hand to stop her.
“You're all right. But I have reasons for my worries, so hear me out. First, I've already siphoned all the info I can. Read every record from the past 50 years. Impressive, right?”
Erika snorted.
“New stuff will keep coming, but I can't push further.
Second, I'm already their enemy. Didn't expect this much hate, but the way people who laughed with me days ago now shun me—you can't imagine.
Don't say make friends again. I know who's possible and who's not. Especially that office chief bastard—he'd kill me if he sniffed my shady moves.
Third, they suspect me so much, key files bypass me straight to superiors. Compared to before, my workload's way down. Promotion's toast. They're just nudging me out.”
“So not resigning—you're fired.”
Erika shot back primly.
“Yeah, call it that. Curiosity satisfied?”
She still looked unhappy but shut up. Richard, quietly sipping beer, piped up.
“But why a bar?”
“Good for rumors, gives us the hideout we need. Plus, that's my skill set. Lived in bars a few years back, so I know the ropes.”
Erika's face mixed light contempt and disgust.
“It's a brag.”
“Damn right. My one talent. Want stories? How to handle drunk brawls or drunks. Or how bad rotten booze hurts. Not curious?”
Georg, who had been silently drinking milk, chuckled unwittingly. Erika glared at him. Scary.
“Eek, but brother. What about funds? Opening a place costs a ton.”
“Yeah, that's the issue. Why I'm consulting you all. I need to retire without suspicion from the chief and colleagues, and scrape up big cash somewhere. Not easy.”
“Mm, seems nearly impossible to me.”
Daniel said gently. What a good friend.
“Any money sources? Nah, if we knew, we wouldn't live like this...”
Huddled like life's losers brainstorming cash, the tavern door jingled open. Cold winter wind rushed in.
“Whew, sorry I'm late. Factory trouble, had to work overtime. Snowing hard too.”
Oscar entered shaking his poetry book—today's disguise. In his other hand, a paper with a drawing.
“Found this flyer on the way. Isn't the guy printed here you, Lucas?”
“Ha, ha, ha.”
I snatched the paper from Oscar and tore it to shreds. Then flashed a bright smile at his stunned face.
“Huh? What flyer?”