897 Les Misérables (2/2)

Darkness, blood, pain, and coldness haunted Oliver, making it impossible for him to get away from the unimaginable misery.

After trying his best, Oliver suddenly sat up. The darkness before his eyes faded, revealing the dim candlelight before him.

”Where… Where am I?” he mumbled, looking at the shabby cottage. He felt that his head was in pain.

”My house.”

A man's cold voice echoed. The door to the room inside was opened, and a stout, tough-looking baldy walked out. ”You've been sold to me.”

”What?” Oliver jumped off his bed in disbelief, only to be knocked to the ground by the man with one punch.

”Call me boss, do you understand?” The man showed his muscles. ”Shut your mouth and listen to me.”

His head felt dizzy after the punch. Oliver touched his swollen lips and looked at the baldy in fear.

The baldy chuckled. ”As an outsider who does not have money or strength, you were bold enough to fight local homeless guys. Hehe. After they knocked you out, they stole your clothes and sold you to me. From today onward, you will be my subordinate. You will be freed when you have done enough labor to compensate for the money I paid for you.”

This bad*ss does not seem too bad… Covering his lips, Oliver asked, ”What do we do?”

”We bury,” the baldy replied in disgust.

When it was only dawn, the baldy, who was named George, led Oliver to a morgue.

”The bodies that do not have relatives or money are stored here. It's our job to bury them in the new cemetery. We'll be paid by the Church and the city hall.” The moment George opened the gate, the stench of decayed bodies spread out, making Oliver who never smelled such a thing before gag hard.

Many other burial men in ragged clothes were in the morgue. They were all George's subordinates.

”Hey, quite a few new babies are here today,” George said in delight. Then, he strode to the newly-delivered bodies and searched them carefully for possessions that might be of any value. If their clothes were relatively intact, he would simply take them off.

Oliver sweated and shivered hard, feeling that he had come to hell.

After he was done looting, George laughed. ”Boys, let's get to work!”

Oliver moved the bodies to a special wagon unwillingly. When he touched the cold skin, he almost jumped away. He felt that his hand was so dirty that he was almost stinking himself.

The burial men were together all the way from the morgue to the new cemetery. Oliver did not have any chance to escape. Baldy George also told him that he had connections in the Church and the city hall, and that if Oliver dared to escape, he would be buried in the new cemetery directly.

The stench of rotting bodies was everywhere in the new cemetery, causing the slums nearby to smell the same permanently.

”Only poor people live here. The reverends of the Church never bother to clean it here,” George complained and asked Oliver to dig holes.

The new cemetery had been preprocessed by the reverends. So, chances were few that undead creatures would show up. They were rather confident.

Holding the shovel, Oliver dug pits mechanically and numbly. In the middle of his digging, several bones appeared out of nowhere, forcing him to step back in fright.

”Has this place been taken?” George touched his bald head. ”It's alright. Just bury on the top of them,” he said unconcernedly.

Bodies were thrown down, and mud was sprayed on the top of them. Very soon, the land was even again.

George found a wooden tombstone and put it at the center of the cemetery. There were no sigils or epitaphs, only a shabby cross.

”Is my life going to end like this?” In the stench, Oliver thought numbly and confusedly.

...

In a manor in the suburb, the hall was ablaze with lights, and delicious food could be smelled everywhere.

”What's his name? Well, Vicente, would you like one? This is the best cigarette from the Kingdom of Brianne.” A fashionable young noble, black-haired and blue-eyed, grimaced at Vicente while holding a few yellowish cigarettes in his hands.

Both his countenance and his tone were full of condescension.

Blushing, Vicente shook his head. ”I'm sorry. I don't smoke.”

”Yo, what a mama's boy. No wonder Shirley likes you,” the young noble said sarcastically.

Shirley, who was not far away from Vicente, moved forward and raised her head. ”Yes. I hate men who drink, smoke, and do not have any manners.”

Then, she dragged Vicente to a dinner table not far away and said in a low voice, ”Vicente, please don't mind. This is all my fault. I shouldn't have asked you to join this dinner.”

”It's alright. We are going to be married soon. I will have to face this sooner or later.” Thinking of his dream, Vicente announced proudly, ”I'm very open-minded. It's true that I'm not a noble who has been enjoying those things since childhood, but I'll try to be better than them and make sure that your future life won't be any worse.”

Far away, Shirley's parents looked at them with cold expressions.