The Shadow Tycoon
Copyright© 2026 by CaffeinatedTales
Chapter 53: The Cost of Self-Interest
Humans are, in the end, creatures driven by self-interest. Any animal finds it hard to escape instinct. No one in this world can be absolutely rational. When faced with a choice, people usually choose the option most advantageous to themselves.
If one man’s misfortune could save him, save the dignity of the Sabine City IRS, and even win back a few points for every law enforcement system, then how to choose was something Johnson had long understood. He simply did not want to say it out loud.
The more people’s hearts are filled with ugliness and darkness, the more they yearn for purity. Yet the more they yearn for purity, the more they want to destroy it, by any means necessary.
Perhaps human nature is called “human nature” precisely because the essence of man is complicated enough, fallen enough, to set off and give the term more meaning.
Director Johnson wiped the sweat from his forehead with his handkerchief. William’s calm gaze felt like needlepoints against his skin, leaving him deeply uneasy and uncomfortable.
He rarely encountered a gaze like this, well disguised, yet fiercely aggressive. It was the gaze of someone standing above him. It was as if William had laid out a condition, already knowing Johnson had no real freedom to choose, yet still pretending generosity by letting him choose, when there was only one possible answer.
It stung. More sweat appeared on his face and neck. Perhaps it really was too hot inside, or perhaps facing William alone brought him too much pressure. He abruptly stood up.
After standing, he should have pulled back his chair and turned to leave, but the motion paused there. For some reason, he felt guilty, and explained, “I need to think it over. Yes, think it over...”
He glanced at William. William made a “please yourself” gesture, and Johnson walked out of the chop house while wiping sweat from his face. Standing on the sidewalk with the now-damp handkerchief in his hand, he looked back at William, half visible among the moving shadows of people, and his hand trembled slightly.
His hand was no longer quite obedient. A sudden shame-born rage surged up, and he hurled the heavy, wet handkerchief to the ground. He gulped for air. The strange looks from passing pedestrians quickly brought him back to himself.
He slapped his own mouth, climbed into the car, fumbled shakily for the key, shoved it into the ignition, started the engine, stepped on the gas, and quickly disappeared from the roadside.
After returning home, Johnson locked himself in his study. For once, he took down one of the bottles of liquor used to decorate the wine rack. He only drank during social engagements; he did not like drinking. That likely had something to do with his father, who had drunk like his life depended on it and often beaten him and his mother after getting drunk.
More than forty years had passed. Some things and some people had already become the past. Yet some things seemed frozen in that moment more than forty years ago, unchanged to this day.
Glass after glass of liquor. The thick stink of alcohol, along with an equally powerful sense of guilt, threw his emotions into violent motion. His decision would change three people’s lives, perhaps even destroy all three of them, but he had no other choice.
Director Johnson was a good man, at least that was what the people at the IRS said. His gentleness had carried him to the director’s chair, and that same gentleness had stopped him there. But now all of that was about to change.
The next day, the easygoing director everyone knew disappeared. In his place was a director who always frowned, his voice carrying a pale, sharp edge.
Over the next few days, as public opinion continued to ferment, Sabine City, a second-tier city in the Baler Federation, became the focus of the entire Federation and even the whole world for the first time. The feeling was ... peculiar.
Fresh faces appeared on the streets of Downtown. They were always holding microphones, and not far behind them stood interview vans.
The workers’ union even organized a one-day strike over the matter on the weekend. The Sabine City labor union management specially came to visit William, expressing their anger over the law enforcement agencies’ abuse of power.
In short, it was a very strange thing. Everyone found it new.
Amid this novelty, Young Michael’s case went to trial. Because Michael himself was mired in trouble, and because Young Michael refused all visits, the court appointed a lawyer to serve as Young Michael’s defense attorney.
After more than half an hour of discussion between the defense attorney and Young Michael, the attorney accepted Young Michael’s guilty plea and would do his best to help him fight for a lighter sentence.
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