The Shadow Tycoon
Copyright© 2026 by CaffeinatedTales
Chapter 32: Beauty as a Weapon
People’s understanding of beauty, their feeling for beauty, and their need for beauty were second only to their need for wealth and power.
Among classes that could not obtain wealth or power, the need for beauty would surpass those two elements and become the first thing people pursued.
William’s handsome face was also a kind of beauty. When that police officer developed a favorable impression of William and sympathized with his frustration over losing the ring he had meant to give his girlfriend, everything changed slightly.
Of course, even without those changes, William would have let events continue developing. He was in a phone booth outside the antique shop. He had just been about to call the police and report that a stolen-goods transaction was taking place here when a car with a police light, but no siren, stopped outside the antique shop.
Two policemen got out of the car. One of them even drew his handgun. From the look of it, they seemed to be here on duty.
This left William somewhat ... puzzled. He hung up the phone, hesitating slightly. He had watched Michael’s house from morning until noon, and he was not sure whether Young Michael had gotten the ring. But now, it seemed the matter was more complicated than he had expected.
Just as he was considering whether to sneak back into Michael’s house and check on the gold ring, he saw Young Michael struggling as two policemen escorted him out, and they even put handcuffs on him. Seeing this, William breathed a sigh of relief, and felt that the faint trembling in his legs had been worth it.
He had chased Young Michael’s car on his bicycle the whole way. If that Bison had not been too conspicuous, he might have lost it at the last intersection. Fortunately, the orange base color and bright red flame pattern stood out clearly on the whole street, allowing him to spot his target at a glance.
Young Michael would never have imagined that this gold ring would make him a “prisoner,” and even less that because he had deliberately gone farther away, he would be caught inside the jurisdiction of another police station.
Every city in the Baler Federation had a district police station. This police station was usually near City Hall, and its work was mostly administrative. In other words, the district police station’s job was management, not field response.
The ones truly responsible for frontline work were the various precincts, such as the Sabine City So-and-So Street Precinct, or the So-and-So District Precinct. These precincts had their own designated jurisdictions. They did not enforce the law across district lines, nor did they interfere with the work of other districts.
It seemed as if every precinct was independent from the others, though some things were shared among them, such as certain information.
Young Michael’s own actions had hurt him. If he had sold the gold ring at an antique shop near where he lived, the officers responsible for arresting him would have belonged to the local precinct, and in the end he would have met the sheriff he had seen that morning. That would still have left some room to maneuver, or at least some channel for communication.
But he had not done that. After crossing more than one district, he had been arrested. The police station in this district knew nothing about him. Naturally, they would not sit down and have a proper conversation with a burglar, much less listen to his nonsense. Every criminal dragged into a police station claimed to be innocent, right up until all the evidence was laid out in court.
Next came waiting and maneuvering. William rode his bicycle back to the Warehouse District, waiting for the police station to “summon” him. They would not be investigating him, but asking him to assist in the investigation. He would certainly cooperate with the police. He would even take the initiative to clear Michael of suspicion. Yes, that was the sort of upright, kindhearted person he was. He never framed anyone.
As soon as he returned to the warehouse, he noticed that Vera seemed emotionally off. As a considerate young man, he took the initiative to ask about it.
“You don’t look very well.” He carried a cup of hot milk to Vera’s side and placed it on the desk in front of her. “You may not be used to hot milk, but trust me, it’s good for you.”
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