Twenty Seven Years Chapter 1

  Chapter 1 Selection

Verac, who had been stunned for more than half an hour, stubbed out a cigarette, stood up from his desk, and walked into the simple darkroom built in a small room. He didn't worry about whether the exposed film would be invalid, so he tore it open for use. Light-tight fabric to block windows.

  The rays of light projected in, making the room that has never been in contact with sunlight since Verac became a photographer, regain a glimmer of light.

  He opened the window incidentally, the sky was gray, the steelworks rumbled in the distance, and the damp air was filled with a disgusting stench.

   Re-exposed to this long-lost harsh environment, Verak, who had a particularly cold face, was not moved in the slightest, but looked at the endless dilapidated slums with flickering eyes.

   Unbelievable, but he did go back to two months ago.

  He doesn't want to think about why such a paradoxical thing happened now, because he would have died two months later in a conspiracy that was deliberately faked as an accidental death, and the gratitude at this moment completely overwhelmed the fear.

   Today is July 15, 1433, Saturday. Saturday is the fixed weekly rest day that has never changed during his years as a photographer. And July 15 was a day that changed his life.

If all that was not a dream, tonight, a group of people rushing from the capital Laizein will find him and bring him to Laizein to pretend to be the dead eldest son of the Thomas family to resolve the crisis of the consortium .

  He remembered very clearly what happened that night, so he easily estimated that in four or five hours, people from the Thomas family would come to his door and take him to Laizein in a semi-coercive manner.

   "Nord, Dempsey..." The names of two friends emerged in Veraker's mind.

  When the Thomas family came, Nord and Demps also happened to be there. Originally, the Thomas family wanted to get rid of these two people who were of no value to them, lest the news might leak out. But at Verak's strong request, the two were taken to the capital Lazein, and eventually died together in the conspiracy.

   Just as the names of the two rose in his mind, there was a sudden knock on the door.

  Verak, who was standing in front of the window, came back to his senses, turned around and walked to the door to open it.

  Outside the door was Nord, who was wearing a beige windbreaker and grinning with one hand in his pocket and a meal in the other. He is four years younger than Veraker, and he is only twenty-two this year: "Dempsey said he would take a shower first, and then come back after taking a shower."

  On Saturday, most workers in the Republic of Brescia can leave work a few hours earlier. As the only spare time every week, Nord and Dempsey usually use this time to come to Verak's room to eat and drink together, enjoying a rare relaxation.

"Yeah." Veraker recalled the end of Nord and Dempsey two months later, slowly took the packed meal, put it on the long table, and reminded, "Your boots are too dirty, full of mud, Just take off your shoes at the door."

   "Cleanliness is simply a fatal flaw in this kind of place, but I like it." Nord had long been used to Verac's request, and took off his boots at the door neatly. After walking in barefoot, he caught a glimpse of the light from the window: "Why did you open the window?"

   Veraker, whose mind was in a mess, prevaricated casually: "I'm going to block it again while I'm taking a break."

   "Oh." Nord didn't become suspicious, and sat at the table looking around, "Where's the wine I brought that day?"

   "Above, find it yourself." Verak sat at the desk, smoking a cigarette.

  Nord got up, found a bottle of wine that he brought a few days ago from the partition, poured half a glass and drank it leisurely: "Why do you feel that you are so preoccupied?"

   "You think too much." Verak shook his head slightly, thinking about whether he should escape from here to avoid the tragedy from happening again.

   "Really?" Nord held the wine glass in one hand, and leaned on the back of the chair with the other, looking at Verak's back with his legs crossed.

   Not long after, Dempsey also arrived.

   Dempsey is thirty years old this year. He is a well-built young man with a bushy beard. Like most people in the slums of Tsward City, he worked as a steelworker in a nearby steelworks. If he asks Verak to have dinner with him after get off work, he must take a shower first, otherwise Verak, who is a bit of a clean freak, will mercilessly turn him away.

  Three tall men were squeezed into the narrow room, and it became even more crowded in an instant. Even turning around was difficult, but no one complained. Because the area is only seven or eight square meters, but the annual rent is as high as 2,400 copper grams, equivalent to two-fifths of Verac's annual income, it is already the best living environment in the slums.

   And the layout of this palm-sized place is also very simple. There is a long and thin table on the left side of the door, and two high chairs are placed beside the table. To the right is a sectional bed that includes a desk and wardrobe. The front is close to the window, occupying nearly half of the space in the single room, and the area tightly covered with opaque fabric is a simple darkroom for developing photos.

   This is envied by other people in the slums. In fact, everything Verak owns can be seen at a glance as soon as he enters the door, and he seems to be able to see his entire life from there.

  Verak also moved the chair in front of the desk, and it was just enough for the three of them to sit.

  Today's dinner is baked rye pie and cabbage soup. The price is quite satisfactory, a total of six copper grams for three people.

   "Oh, yes, newspapers." When preparing to eat, Nord suddenly remembered something, and took out a few folded newspapers from his windbreaker pocket and handed them to Veraker.

  Newspapers are considered the only medium for Verac to understand the outside world.

  Nord has been working as a waiter in a restaurant in Tswold City, and every day he will show him several newspapers left by customers.

   Of course, newspapers are also sold in the slums, but it is not as cost-effective as Nord to get free ones. Moreover, there is only the Tswold Daily in the slums, while there are well-known major newspapers and newspapers in the city, such as Bresci Economic News, Political Weekly, Le Monde, and Western Times. The things published by the two are not at the same level at all.

  Verak held the newspaper, but couldn't concentrate on reading the contents. Because time was running out, he had to make an important decision that would completely affect the rest of his life before the Thomas family came and when he still had a choice.

  Nord enthusiastically poured Dempsey a glass of wine, and the three started to move.

  Nord glanced at Verak who was reading the newspaper: "Look at your life, it makes me want to rent a single room."

   Dempsey ate something: "Isn't the single room opposite Veraker still available? But can you pay so much?"

   "If I work hard in the restaurant, I should be able to earn 6,000 copper grams a year, and I can save a little money to rent a single room." Nord looked like he was budgeting carefully, trying to make his idea seem mature and feasible.

   "That's what you said, but you can't save it." Dempsey snorted heavily, dismissing it.

  He is well aware of Nord's lavish spending. It is impossible for him to save four hundred copper grams, let alone two thousand four hundred copper grams.

"Then... think about it again." 2,400 copper grams is not a small amount for them, Nord hesitated symbolically, took a sip of wine, and comforted himself: "Actually, the eight-person room is also very good, one The year is only 800 copper grams, apart from living in a bad place, how can I eat, drink, and dress well?"

Hearing this, Veraker, who had been silent just now, sneered and interjected: "The economic newspaper published a set of data. Last year, Blessie's per capita annual income was 151 gold grams, which is 15,000. One thousand and one hundred copper grams. You haven't even reached half of the per capita income, and you still feel that you are living a good life?"

   "At least it's not bad in our slum area. If you compare me with those rich people in the city, let alone me, you are far behind." Nord retorted embarrassingly.

   Hearing this, Verak froze.

   "Speaking of which, you belong to the high-income group here, and we won't be exempted from taking pictures..." Nord said with a smile.

Before Veraker could say anything, Dempsey said first, "Come on, I can't take photos once a year. I'm not as stinky as you, so I have to take pictures every now and then. If Veraker really waives the order for you, I'm afraid I'll take pictures." I have to live in an eight-person room within a month..."

  After the meal was almost finished, Nord and Dempsey drank wine and talked about the new things that happened in the slums today, while Verak carried the washbasin to the water room to wash up.

  As soon as he went out, he smelled the smell of smoke, alcohol, sweat, and vomit that filled the corridor. These smells mixed together were disgusting, and Verac had always had a hard time adapting to them, and now it was even harder to accept.

   And this feeling of vomiting is more intense when entering the water room.

  Because the water room is connected to the toilet, the smell of vomit and excrement comes from here, so the smell here is several times stronger than that in the corridor, almost reaching the limit that humans can bear.

   Enduring the stench and washing up, Verac quickly returned to the room with the basin in his hand. In the room, Nord, who was drunk, was arguing loudly with Dempsey about whose turn it was to pay for the dinner totaling six copper grams.

  The noise in the ear, the lingering stench in the corridor, the poor and small room, the life where you can see the head at a glance...

  Villac, who has lived in the capital Laizein for two months, can no longer bear this kind of life—even though he lives in the best environment in the slums and has almost the best job in the slums.

  In the midst of the debate, he silently took out six copper grams to settle the meal. Verac, who originally considered fleeing the slums to avoid being found by the Thomas family, decided to stay here and wait for the Thomas family to find him.

   This is the most dangerous choice, and the only choice he can make to change his unchanging life.

   1. For the convenience of reading, the first name and the last name are used in this book.

   2. The album of the same name has been launched on major music platforms.

  (end of this chapter)

Chapter end