Kays Translations
Just another Isekai Lover~
Chapter 10: Undercurrents Beneath Civilization
Thanks to that unexploded delayed-action fireball grenade, Marlon and Ester had no choice but to linger outside the utterly devastated The Light of Eshilia restaurant until the sun was high in the sky.
During that time, reporters from the White Sand City Morning News, the White Sand City Daily, and the Proverb of the God of News, among others, appeared one after another. Like starving wolves, they scoured the area for anything worth reporting—after all, this was a bank heist so audacious that even the supposedly impregnable banks were blown up, with large sums of cash stolen.
As mere bystanders passing through, Marlon and Ester were naturally caught in the crossfire of interviews. Fortunately, Marlon had anticipated this in advance, and thanks to his prior warning, Ester didn’t spill anything he shouldn’t.
However, after the reporters who had found nothing of value finally left, Ester watched from a distance as a corpulent man—who seemed to be a high-ranking police official—was surrounded by a throng of journalists. Slightly frustrated, he muttered under his breath:
“Brother, those bank robbers… they only got taken down so easily because of us, and now we can’t say a word about it. It’s killing me!”
In the young minotaur’s eyes, the reflection of the fat man in full police regalia lingered.
At that moment, the man’s face flushed red as he ranted grandly, regaling reporters with tales of the police’s rapid response, intelligence, and bravery, claiming they had single-handedly wiped out all the bank robbers.
Without a doubt, this recent bank heist had already become a feather in the cap of this fat police official.
Marlon, observing the scene, remained silent. After filtering out the official’s bragging about the White Sand City City police force, his attention was drawn to something far more critical—
The seven robbers who had risked everything, executed massive explosions, and raided Sols Bank were all retired soldiers with disabilities.
Granted, compared to those severely injured veterans who had ended up destitute in slums, the war injuries of these seven were minor—but they had indeed been soldiers.
If even these veterans, who should have been able to support themselves, were driven to desperate measures, how much longer could other retired soldiers endure?
The realization sent a shiver down Marlon’s spine.
This sensation, like sitting atop a lit powder keg without even realizing it… was truly terrifying.
“Ester, I need to ask you something.”
Marlon couldn’t even begin to imagine the full severity of the situation, so he needed detailed information from Ester to confirm his suspicions.
“What is it?”
The young minotaur was still brimming with indignation—he was, after all, a true youth.
“Your family lives in the Oshana District, right? If I remember correctly, most of White Sand City City’s factories are concentrated there?” Marlon asked.
His memory reminded him that most of White Sand City’s factories were indeed in Oshana, where two anti-aircraft battalions of the Loring National Defense were stationed.
“That’s right. It’s because of that massive cross-sea bombardment by the Helfa Empire two years ago. My dad said that if factories were built together, the government would have to station heavy troops around them, and if anything happened, mutual aid would be faster and more effective—safer than spreading them out.”
The minotaur spoke freely, letting slip the careful reasoning his father had painstakingly devised.
“Then… among the workers in these factories, are there many retired soldiers?”
Marlon nodded and pressed on. This question was the real key he wanted answered.
“Retired soldiers… many?” The minotaur blinked his round eyes and, in a peculiar tone, said: “Brother, are you out of your mind? The dirty, heavy work is done by slaves shipped from the Svea Continent; the hard or delicate labor is handled by steam automatons. Factories only need a few clever, educated citizens for management. Who would want to take in troublemakers who only know how to kill?”
“Slaves?!”
Marlon’s eyes widened. He had never imagined that the root of the problem lay here.
“We’re actually in a good spot. Go further inland, and in those plantation farms, aside from the owners, everyone else is a Svea slave.”
The young minotaur spoke as if it were perfectly normal, then added after a moment: “Oh right, in the city, we mostly use agile Durel slaves; in the countryside, mostly strong and docile Anman horse slaves.”
“Steam automatons… can handle delicate work?”
After hearing about the slaves, Marlon nodded and then asked about the steam automatons.
“They can, right?” The minotaur answered immediately, then corrected himself: “Oh… except for the most precise tasks, those have to be done by technicians.”
Marlon slapped his forehead. Instantly, an image flashed in his mind: fully automated robots and slaves with collars and branded marks, sitting side by side on assembly lines endlessly producing steam-era industrial products.
With these two extremely low-cost types of workers, how could profit-driven factory owners possibly be willing to hire retired veterans?
Service industry jobs?
Never mind the scarcity of positions in the tertiary sector during this era of reconstruction. Even setting aside that, how could hands accustomed to swords and guns easily pick up new tools?
Perhaps the decades-long world wars had largely erupted because of precisely this: insufficient employment opportunities, while labor was severely surplus under the pressure of mechanical automatons and slave labor.
Now, the world wars were over, yet the same contradictions were immediately reemerging like a ghost.
Just then, a thin little newspaper boy—probably thinking the crowd was a good business opportunity—waved a thick bundle of brightly colored papers into Marlon’s line of sight, shouting in his childlike voice:
“Papers for sale! Papers for sale! Sir, want a paper? Miss, want a paper? Today’s major news: the Serpa Alliance suddenly announced the creation of an extended-range delayed forbidden spell, with a radius reaching White Sand City City, making it the second country after ours to possess such a spell! National Agricultural Academy’s chief mentor, Fernandos, successfully developed improved oats and maize, with yields of 1,500 and 1,700 per acre respectively! National Assembly members are deeply divided, and the rollout of the minimum living guarantee plan is once again indefinitely postponed…”