For a thief, what characteristics should an excellent target possess?
Clearly, it's "high value" and "ease of access.
" "High value" means a greater reward for a single risk, while "ease of access" means a lower risk of failure.
Based on these principles, are there suitable targets for Warina?
Targets flash through his mind, only to be eliminated one by one.
Workers?
They struggle to make ends meet.
Middle-class?
They spend lavishly on appearances.
Wealthy merchants?
They're a possibility.
Even if most of their assets are fixed assets that can't be stolen, the pocket money in their wallets and valuables in their homes are already "high value," and aside from a few extremely wealthy individuals, they are "ease of access."
But the problem is, these people all live in Queens and Hillston, beyond Warina's reach.
Factories?
Large transactions go through bank accounts, smaller ones are just for paying workers' wages, and now not only are paydays off, but the cash flow is also insufficient due to low worker wages.
Shops?
Like factories, the cash flow is insufficient.
Banks?
They certainly had plenty of money, but they weren't exactly easy targets.
After going through all that, Varina felt a headache coming on; being a thief wasn't so easy after all.
He rubbed his temples and continued thinking. Besides those he'd just considered, were there any other potential targets?
Finally, Varina thought of something he'd previously overlooked: an organization almost unique to the East District—the gangs.
According to rough estimates, the East District had a population exceeding 1.3 million, nearly a third of Backlund's total population! The East District had a high population mobility and a diverse mix of people, yet the police force deployed there was extremely weak, practically incapable of law enforcement.
Therefore, the East District was essentially a legal vacuum.
This vacuum bred numerous gangs, large and small, who occupied neighborhoods, divided territories, and profited by oppressing workers.
These gangs filled the void left by official order, to some extent taking on the responsibility of basic social order management, and with the tacit approval of the authorities, they had become semi-legal organizations.
Therefore, they were both wealthy and relatively easy to obtain, making them the most suitable target for Varina's operation.
So the next question was—which gang should he choose among these?
Drowsiness crept in as he pondered.
Finally, before going to bed, Varina decided on only one thing—to choose a target he was familiar with to minimize risk.
…
In the morning, Varina munched on rye bread, lost in thought.
"I must decide on a target today, preferably tonight, preferably without any mishaps, preferably with a great harvest…"
"That way I can improve my meals."
He mentally sifted through potential targets, only to find he had few options.
This was mainly because his area of operation was too small; he hadn't been to many gang-controlled territories; and unlike lower-level workers, he hadn't sought work through gangs, so his understanding of them was limited.
"I'll ask John and the others later…"
After breakfast, Varina left again as the clock struck midnight, returning to his post.
Listening to his colleagues chatting about trivial matters as usual, he felt a surge of impatience for the first time.
He couldn't believe that in just two days, his mindset had changed so drastically.
Varina was somewhat apprehensive, unsure of what had caused his change—was it due to contact with the mystical side of the world? Or perhaps… another memory? He
also
didn't know if this change was good or bad. Fortunately, Varina had been doing this job for over a year and was very familiar with its content, preventing his inner unease from affecting his work. During
lunch break, the three colleagues went to a nearby café for lunch—Old Pat, being older and rarely staying in his office, was rather distant from the three of them.
While waiting for their food, John asked, "Varina, you seem rather quiet today. Are you in a bad mood?"
"A little, but nothing serious,"
Susan replied with a smile, pressing, "So you still haven't told me why you're in a bad mood?"
"It's those books my cousin borrowed for me," Varina had already prepared an excuse while he was still giving a perfunctory answer, "Sigh, they're so difficult."
"At this rate, when will I ever be able to become an accountant like Mr. Luca through self-study?"
These were the unspoken thoughts he had kept to himself, now serving as an excuse to conceal his true feelings.
"Ha, I do know a little about that," Susan said quickly. "I know a bit about Mr. Luca's background; perhaps you can refer to it."
"Mr. Luca obtained his accountant certification at 25, and at 28, he bought a house in his hometown on a leasehold basis and got married. Now he's working hard to save money to buy the house outright."
"That's impressive…"
John exclaimed, then asked, "But how do you know all this so well?"
"My aunt told me,"
Susan rolled her eyes at him, looking a little sulky. "She and Mr. Luca both have part-time accounting jobs at the dockworkers' association."
"I mentioned this before, have you forgotten?"
John might have forgotten, but Varina hadn't.
He had brought up Mr. Luca to try and steer the conversation towards his aunt, and then to the dockworkers' association. Unexpectedly, before he could even lead the conversation, Susan brought it up herself, adding even more details.
In reality, places like the dockworkers' association are either controlled by gangs or directly established by gang members; they're essentially just a legal facade for the gangs.
"Sir, Madam, here's your lunch." The waiter brought out trays full of food and placed them in front of the three.
Seeing that his highly successful conversation was about to be conveniently interrupted by the waiter, Varina quickly tried to salvage the situation.
He asked enviously,
"Susan, do you know how much that accounting part-time job pays?"
Susan shook her head. "I don't know, but it shouldn't be less than three pounds a week."
"Wow, that's amazing!" John's eyes lit up, and he couldn't help but exclaim in admiration.
"If only I could be an accountant… Hey, Susan, doesn't the dockworkers' association have its own accountants? Why do they hire Mr. Luca and his team?"
"Of course not!"
Susan, intrigued by their barrage of questions, put down her wooden fork. "You haven't seen those bookkeepers; their skills are absolutely terrible."
"Not only is the handwriting ugly, but there are tons of spelling errors, and what's even more outrageous is that they even include a few simple drawings."
"Goddess, if I had to sort through those ledgers, I'd lose all my hair."
Suddenly, her eyes lit up, and she thought of a clever way to be lazy.
"By the way, a batch of cotton and linen textiles is arriving at the dock this afternoon. Anyone want to go receive it? We can take a look at those absurd ledgers along the way."The dock area, East Byron Shipyard.
Formerly a large shipyard designed and built by the Kingdom of Loen for conquering the southern continent, it lay dormant for a time after fulfilling its mission. However, with industrialization, it was slightly modified and given a new purpose, making it active again, even more so than before.
Now, it is the hub of Backlund's water transport, boasting five berths of varying heights, allowing almost any vessel to dock level with the pier.
This design greatly facilitates shipping, so it's no exaggeration to say that any medium-sized or larger cargo ship arriving in Backlund will dock here.
At two o'clock in the afternoon, Varina arrived near the shipyard.
He pretended to be impressed by Susan's clever "scheme," and took the opportunity to ask her many related questions, finally agreeing to come and receive the goods in Susan's place, which satisfied both parties.
Varina found the cargo ship, only to learn that the captain had gone to the nearby Workers' Union Tavern, so he had to go there instead.
He needed to discuss the cargo handover with the captain before he could go to the dockworkers' association to hire workers to transport the goods back to the factory. Most importantly, he needed the cargo manifest from the captain.
The Workers' Union Tavern was much larger than the Brave Ones' Bar, but thankfully it was only two in the afternoon, and there weren't many people drinking. Varina glanced around and spotted the iconic dark blue bicorn hat on the table of a weathered middle-aged man.
He walked straight over and asked,
"Captain Trevor?"
The middle-aged man looked up at him. "Yes, and you are...?"
"I'm sent by the Weston Textile Factory to receive the goods."
Varina pulled out the "Acceptance Letter" Susan had given him, stamped with the factory seal, from his pocket and placed it in front of the man.
Captain Trevor unfolded the folded paper, glanced at it only once, and then returned it to Varina, muttering something under his breath.
He downed the remaining wine in his glass, slammed it on the table, grabbed his bicorn hat, and stood up, saying,
"Come on, let's go back to the ship."
In the captain's cabin, Trevor took a perfectly printed cargo manifest from a locked trunk and handed it to Varina.
For him, this was a necessary step. But actually, Varina had another copy given to him by Susan, delivered in advance through the kingdom's communication system.
Varina opened it in front of him, and after confirming that the manifest was correct, he asked, "Can I hire workers now?"
"Of course," Trevor nodded.
"I need a little help," Varina looked at the captain, "I don't know how many workers to hire?"
Captain Trevor smiled.
He patted Varina on the shoulder and said, "That's the dockworkers' guild's business; you just need to give them the contents of the manifest."
"Thank you for your guidance,"
Varina thanked him and left, heading to the dockworkers' guild not far away.
This was an old, two-story yellow building. After the Dead Eel Gang took over, they made some modifications, using the first floor as a reception hall for employers.
The hall was simply furnished. There were rows of benches on either side of the entrance, with a few people sitting sparsely on them. Directly opposite was a long counter, behind which were about a dozen bookkeepers who looked to be fifteen or sixteen years old.
He explained his purpose, and the boy opposite him hurriedly jotted down the key information, then took the slip of paper and headed upstairs.
"Wait," Varina called to the boy, "I'd like to use the restroom here, is that alright?"
The boy nodded: "Yes, the restroom is on the second floor, opposite the stairwell, but the rest of the second floor is off-limits to outsiders."
The two went upstairs together, the boy heading straight to the innermost room, while Varina went into the restroom.
The layout of the second floor wasn't complicated either; Varina had a general idea of it after scanning it once before entering the restroom.
Coming up the stairs, directly opposite was the restroom. To the left was a long corridor leading to the innermost office, with several rooms on either side of the corridor. Due to the limited view, Varina couldn't see their specific uses.
The boy entered the office, walked up to a red-haired man, and handed him a note. "Mr. Kirk, a delivery request from the Siren Textile Factory."
Kirk took the note, and while reading it, waved for the boy to leave.
He quickly looked up again and called out, "Quid, take 50 men and deliver this shipment."
...
When Varina came out of the restroom, he saw two people waiting at the door: the boy and a fierce-looking man.
"Sir, this is Mr. Quaid, who will deliver the goods for you. He'll arrange everything,"
the boy introduced before going downstairs. Quaid then said, "Let's go, let's find the men first."
Varina followed him out of the workers' association building and quickly arrived at an open space on a street corner.
A large group of simply dressed, strong laborers had gathered there. Seeing Quaid and Varina from afar, they spontaneously approached before the two even got close.
"Mind your manners, don't let the guests see us!"
Quaid spoke, and the pushing and shoving immediately subsided. Soon, they quieted down, focusing their attention solely on Quaid.
"Deliver to the Weston Textile Mill, 8 pence, I only need 50."
The crowd erupted into chaos again. This time, Quaid remained silent.
After a while, the crowd selected 50 people according to their own rules, while the rest, looking disappointed, dispersed.
Varina witnessed the whole thing. Though his face remained impassive, the scene deeply shocked him. He knew life was hard for the working class, but he hadn't imagined it to be this difficult. For 8 pence, he saw many people with bloodied noses or dark circles under their eyes, yet still smiling.
And this was only now!
After the Corn Act was repealed, their lives would be even harder.
And this wasn't the end!
Varina felt a chill run down his spine at the thought of the future "Backlund Smog Incident."
"Let's go, where is the ship docked?"
Quaid's voice pulled Varina back to reality. He glanced at the crowd one last time and led the way.
Upon reaching the cargo ship, Varina found that Captain Trevor had already arranged for his men to arrive so they could begin unloading.
Workers and sailors worked together, like ants carrying food, unloading the cargo bit by bit from the ship. During this time, Varina and the captain stood by, each holding a list to check the accounts.
Much later, after both sides confirmed the count was correct, Varina handed the "Letter of Acceptance" to Trevory and then returned to the Weston Textile Mill with the cargo.
Having passed Quaid to Susan, the rest of the matter was also handed over to Susan, and Varina finally breathed a sigh of relief.
"At least we didn't mess things up, well, in a double sense."