Kays Translations
Just another Isekai Lover~
Chapter 11: Weakness and Poverty Do Not Equal Kindness
Spending two Purs, Marlon bought a newspaper from a young newsboy. Squatting by the roadside, he finally absorbed the information printed within its pages, gaining a slightly broader perspective on the world.
Setting aside the games between the three victorious powers of the world war—since such matters were beyond Marlon’s concern and posed no immediate threat to his own interests—what caught his attention were the internal news of the Loring Republic.
It turned out that, contrary to appearances, the Loring Republic was not completely oblivious to the plight of millions of wounded soldiers and nearly a million veterans struggling to live after the war.
Take, for instance, the “National Minimum Livelihood Protection Plan.” To Marlon, it was evidently designed with soldiers and war orphans in mind.
Unfortunately, the Loring Republic’s finances were apparently in dire straits. This was why the plan had sparked fierce disagreement among members of the National Assembly, making its passage uncertain.
Economic development factions, military hegemony factions, social stability factions… the parliament was a forest of competing interests, each with its own hidden agenda.
But for any faction hoping to assert itself, the first prerequisite was simple: the national finances and policies had to tilt in their favor.
Alas, the Loring Republic was not like the United States on Earth, safely insulated by geography. The Axis of Evil, led by the Helfa Empire, had, by the sixth year of the war, developed weapons of mass destruction capable of covering a third of Loring’s territory.
Thus, the world war gradually transformed into a super-game among great powers: a contest of money burned, cannon fodder sacrificed, and military technology trees climbed.
In the end, the Loring Empire gained the upper hand, ascending its military tech tree first to unlock the superweapon known as the “Extended-Range Delayed Banishment Spell.”
From there, the Helfa Empire, teetering on the edge of economic collapse, had no choice but to surrender on terms.
Yet despite being a victor, the Loring Republic, scarred by over a decade of warfare, still faced widespread devastation, and the postwar economy was scarcely stronger than the already-collapsed Helfa Empire.
So long as the republic had not finalized the division of war spoils with the other two victorious powers, debates over major policies in the National Assembly would rage on without end.
After reading a commentary by “Alpha-Snodyga,” which analyzed the root causes behind the Assembly’s failure to pass the “National Minimum Livelihood Protection Plan” within the context of international and domestic politics as well as the broader economy, Marlon finally felt he had gained a preliminary, clear-eyed understanding of this world.
“Heh… the past twenty-odd days were truly like living without seeing the sun.”
Setting the newspaper down, Marlon couldn’t help but smile wryly.
Yet, on second thought, without those nearly sunless twenty days spent furiously writing, he wouldn’t now be holding that enormous sum of a thousand Lants. Relief washed over him.
Rubbing his sore neck, he slowly rose to his feet.
Marlon saw a police officer, clad in thick protective armor with his head enclosed in a massive, barrel-shaped metal helmet, bristling with strange equipment, carrying a fist-sized, cone-shaped grenade that glimmered with a blood-red light. The officer had already moved far in the direction of the ruined Solace Bank.
The massive barrel helmet was gone—discarded somewhere—yet even from behind, Marlon could instantly recognize the two large, fiery-red, fluffy… fox ears.
“Huh? That’s… that fox uncle?”
Those familiar ears revealed the officer’s identity: Bernard Yebler.
Strange. How had this fox uncle suddenly transformed into a demolition officer?
Seeing his uniform—the Third Steam Armored Cavalry Brigade—Marlon’s curiosity about Bernard Yebler only deepened.
Unfortunately, Bernard quickly jumped onto a police vehicle, leaving Marlon unable to catch up.
Besides, the Minotaur youth, Ester, was shouting for him to hurry. After waiting anxiously, Ester could finally safely ride off on his steam locomotive.
Never mind. Even if this fox uncle had eyes everywhere, it had little to do with me.
With that thought, Marlon left the scene under Ester’s escort.
He Lantomly found a restaurant, spent a full four Lants and seven Pennies on a lavish table of meat dishes, and sincerely thanked Ester before returning to the slums.
The man was the same, his rags were the same, but now Marlon’s pocket contained nearly a thousand Lants.
In any society, so long as resources are scarce enough that no exchange is unnecessary, money remains of great significance—whether to satisfy one’s needs, commit misdeeds, or perform good deeds.
Marlon had already learned this in middle school politics class.
Yet, as he walked through the narrow, gray streets back to his attic, he saw once again the wounded soldiers sitting despondently by the roadside and clusters of scrawny war orphans scavenging through trash. He did not reveal the money he had just obtained.
For this was a slum teeming with crime; to display that thousand Lant “fortune” would risk losing tomorrow’s sun unless he dispersed it all immediately.
Weakness and poverty do not equate to goodness…
So, as usual, Marlon spent three Purs at a corner bakery for the cheapest bread—mixed with bran and nearly inedible—but enough to last him a day.
However, upon reaching the attic, he was blocked by a rough-looking, short, stout man.
“Marlon… you little brat… where did you… run off to today?” the man slurred, reeking of alcohol. “Money! Lend me some money! Quick—”
This man was Marlon’s uncle, Levi Ianwan, nicknamed Red-Nose Ianwan for his bulbous crimson nose.
Technically speaking, he was Marlon’s uncle only by the skin he now inhabited.
“Where I went is none of your business,” Marlon replied, stepping back half a pace with a tone thick with disdain.
He held no fondness for this cheap uncle—alcoholic, abusive to his wife, cowardly against the weak. If not for money, he would likely have indulged in gambling and worse.
Marlon utterly despised such people, showing them no courtesy.
Were it not for his aunt, Weina Lister, stepping in to maintain peace, Marlon and Red-Nose Ianwan’s conflict could have escalated uncontrollably.
“You think you have no one to answer to? Fine! You little orphan brat, you’ve become increasingly insolent! Today, I’ll show you what it means to be punished!”
The drunken Red-Nose Ianwan staggered, reaching out to seize the frail Marlon, ready to strike him hard. “Today! No one will protect you! That stupid woman isn’t here!”
Upon hearing the last sentence, Marlon immediately altered his plan.
“My aunt isn’t here? Perfect—”
Stepping back to evade Ianwan’s grab, Marlon’s face twisted with disgust as he seized the moment, launching a swift kick straight to Ianwan’s… groin.