Second real estate developer

The use of the elevator was somewhat complicated, but in short, you needed the appropriate authorization to reach the corresponding destinations. Ordinary citizens were absolutely forbidden from visiting the noble levels, and even those in the middle tiers could never hope to touch the world of the rulers. Yet, should someone from the uppermost strata deign to descend to the lower floors, no one would object.

Lamia said, “I thought your case would take some effort, but unexpectedly it’s already been resolved—what a surprise.”

I replied, “This alone shows the excellence of the Black Coffin. It always welcomes those with outstanding talent with open arms.”

Lamia shook her head. “You’d best be cautious. In the eyes of ninety-nine percent of the Rangers, you’re still a nobody. And you’re an outsider—most residents of the skyscraper look down on people like that. The three of us know your worth, but… but they…”

She didn’t finish, but everything was clear in her silence.

Hearing this, I was deeply moved. To think I would have to endure disdain for a long time yet, struggling fiercely just to make a name for myself, it made me feel all the hardships I’d suffered over the years were so unjust. Those born in paradise simply started far ahead of us who came from hell. In their eyes, I might as well be infected with plague, flowing with viruses, carrying original sin. I was probably worth less than a pet dog or a cat. Equality for all is, in any era, nothing but an empty notion.

Lamia said, “Go straight to the office on the thirtieth floor. I have to report back at the Ranger camp—it’ll probably take most of the day. You can take this time to look around the Black Coffin, but be sure not to take the wrong elevator.”

Betty said, “Mr. Fishbone, whatever you do, don’t cause any trouble—I’m begging you.”

I retorted, “Do I look like the sort to stir up trouble? That’s prejudice, Miss Betty. Don’t forget, I’m a cultured, polite, and refined gentleman.” To prove my point, I gave her a slight bow, as courteous as could be.

Betty laughed. “You seem decent, but first you have to get rid of your habit of petty theft. If you’re caught even once, that’ll be the end of us.”

A chill ran through me. I replied, “Petty theft? I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m the most law-abiding of men—my life is the very portrait of discipline and virtue.”

Salvador said, “Let me lend you some gold coins. Buy yourself some decent clothes—I remember there are some fine fashion boutiques on the thirty-second floor.”

He mentioned gold coins, making me smile faintly. “I have my own clever solution, no need for you to worry, my friend.”

Salvador and Betty spoke in unison: “No stealing! Absolutely not!”

I said, “How ridiculous, I won’t even dignify that with a response.”

Lamia kissed me on the cheek and said, “There’s a clock on every floor. Be sure to go to Normandy Avenue on the fortieth floor by seven thirty this evening.”

I asked, “My dear officer, I’ll be there on time. Is there something planned?”

Lamia said, “There will be someone there to officiate our wedding. After that, you can live with me.”

My whole body trembled with joy as I watched Lamia, Betty, and Salvador leave the elevator.

Compared to those who died in the wilderness or by the blade, compared to those in Waterless Village who had nearly achieved ‘immortality,’ I had no right to complain—I was already on the verge of happiness. I would silently, swiftly climb upward, letting the residents of the Black Coffin know who I was, making them realize that today, one who was no longer humble—a hero, a conqueror—had come among them.

The elevator descended to the thirtieth floor, giving me a glimpse of the world of the skyscraper’s middle class—a typical representation of floors thirty to fifty.

It resembled the commercial plazas of thriving twentieth-century cities before the apocalypse: corridors replaced long streets, still crisscrossing in all directions; two-story rooms took the place of shops, yet remained vibrant and bustling.

The rooms had shops or offices on the first floor, and residences above. Sometimes, at a street corner, there would be a small park or a fountain with a tree, adding signs of life to the floor.

If, in my imagination, I had pictured the skyscraper as marvelous, witnessing it firsthand rendered my imagination pale in comparison. The reality was so overwhelming, I was left open-mouthed, forgetting all decorum.

As I walked the corridors, the shoppers eyed me with disdain. I snapped awake, and before long, found the office for documentation. The moment I stepped inside, I felt several questioning gazes—each person scrutinizing me from head to foot like judges, their suspicion overlaid with anxiety and aversion, as though I wore a label: “Outsider, interloper, from the lower ranks.”

Among the security guards, the strongest strode toward me, drawing his pistol. “Hands up!”

A little patience goes a long way. Better to endure. I said, “I’m a Ranger!”

The guard sneered. “So am I! But I’ve never seen you before. Judging by your accent, you’re from outside the Black Coffin, aren’t you?”

Language—the fire of wisdom that distinguishes people. Because of language, there are barriers and hierarchies among us.

I answered, “Haven’t you heard the news? I’m the newcomer who, along with Lamia, brought back Yune—the mobile fortress, the hope of human rebirth…”

A flicker of cunning passed through the Ranger’s eyes. “What? Never heard of it.”

Suddenly, I realized he was only feigning ignorance to give me a hard time, perhaps to retaliate for… well, snatching away their superior. He said, “I’ll say it again: On your knees, hands behind your head—let me search you!”

I said angrily, “Nonsense! How can I let you insult my dignity? Haven’t you heard Stern’s orders?”

The Ranger said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about—do it now!”

I replied, “Have you considered that offending me is offending Lamia? Stern will use you as a scapegoat—he can easily deny everything, but you can’t avoid responsibility. You can’t really do anything to me, but Lamia has plenty of ways to make you suffer. Think about it—doesn’t that make sense?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed, a bead of sweat slid across his temple. He stepped back. “I… well… wait a moment, I need to check your records. What’s your name again?”

He was clearly intimidated. Oh, Lamia, my darling, my wife, my guardian angel—let them say I live off a woman; I’d rather choke on that ‘easy life’ than endure this crowd’s glares and endless harassment.

He knew all along. I said, “Drop the act,” pointing to the surveillance camera above, its green light showing everything was normal—I was no trespasser. Vagha had already granted my clearance.

The Ranger dared not meet my eyes; he stepped aside. “Alright, sir, you may enter.”

I asked, “What’s your name, sir?”

Muscles taut, he stammered, “I… my name is Chuanfu, sir.”

“Very well, I’ll remember that. But I can forget this incident—do you understand what I mean?”

He glanced around. The lobby was lined with a long queue of lower-tier residents, all watching us. In a low voice, he said, “Sir, I can arrange for you to skip the line and get your documentation early—a small token of my goodwill. Congratulations to you and Officer Lamia on your wedding.”

Those in line looked anxious and fearful. They were the lowest in the skyscraper: menial laborers, unfortunate tenants, toiling day and night for a cramped corner to call home, draining their strength, sacrificing dignity to beg, to plead, just to avoid the brutal world outside. They clung to the one loose stone on the cliff’s edge, staking all their hopes on it, unwilling to let go.

Because they knew all too well what lay beyond.

They were as anxious as Lamia’s father, striving desperately for a distant dream, just as I did. Yet, unlike me, they had no Lamia, no Vagha, no bank account, no survival skills for this post-apocalyptic world.

I shook my head. “No need, I can wait. I appreciate your kindness—we’ll look out for each other in the future.”

Chuanfu smiled. “Exactly, sir. Sometimes, a little friction leads to friendship.” He shook my hand, and I joined the queue.

When my business was finally done, it was only one in the afternoon. Chuanfu and I were already on good terms—he directed me to a nearly hidden alley where I found Mercury Trading House. Vagha had said this firm specialized in handling funds of uncertain origin, guaranteeing client confidentiality.

I saw the account, saw the number—and for a moment, I felt weak, as if even drinking Amon’s Water had never made the world seem so unreal. Before, twenty million was just a number; now, with some sense of the skyscraper’s prices, I realized what extraordinary significance it held.

The clerk behind the counter asked, “Sir, are you alright?”

Tears filled my eyes. “May your future be as blissful as this moment, my friend.”

I wanted to hug him, to kiss him; he thought I was about to rob him, and pulled a gun on me. Thus I tasted the bitterness of being hated for wealth.

Oh, you resent the rich? How coincidental—I happen to be rich.

I stepped out of the trading house. The sun was so warm—I hadn’t seen sunlight this fine in ages. Wait, how could there be sunlight inside the skyscraper? Was it an illusion?

Perhaps this was what it felt like to see dreams come true.

Someone approached. I didn’t care who he was—I gave him a bear hug and said, “Having reached this point in life, what more could I ask? Ah, when life is good, seize the joy—don’t let the golden cup stand empty before the moon.”

He patted me on the back, saying mysteriously, “Sir, have you come into money?”

“Yes, child. Call me father and I’ll give you a gold coin,” I said, in such high spirits I fancied myself the world’s priest, full of compassion.

He replied softly, “Alright, father. But I have a better idea. I own a spacious flat on the thirtieth floor, two hundred square meters. Would you like to buy it? It’s a prime floor, sure to appreciate in value. If humanity ever revives, this will be the origin city—the price could increase a thousandfold.”

I looked at him. He was as thin and pale as I was, almost ghostlike in his frailty.

I asked, “Really? And your name is?”

He said, “You… you may call me Mask, sir.”