The Shadow Tycoon
Copyright© 2026 by CaffeinatedTales
Chapter 90: Under City Hall’s Banner
The next day, Saturday morning, Ferraler came to the Warehouse District again. He also brought along some things needed for setting up the event.
Some large promotional posters, and some materials that could connect this auction to City Hall and the mayor’s policies.
What made people raise an eyebrow even more was that the local newspapers’ coverage of the Secondhand Auction had, without exception, already added content related to the mayor. For instance, this Secondhand Auction was being prepared, organized, and held by William “and others” under the mayor’s promotion.
There seemed to be only a few sentences in it, but in reality, every bit of credit that should be taken had already been taken by the mayor. There was even a fallback planted inside: William and others. Aside from William, there were other people, but exactly who they were was unclear.
Perhaps there would be others. Perhaps there was only William. Of course, this was also a necessary process for William to obtain subsidies or certain policy preferences.
What looked like a somewhat backward system was, in fact, unexpectedly transparent. Some things could not be hidden at all. Since they could not be hidden, they had to be made to look more in line with the rules.
“Next Tuesday at noon, the mayor has forty minutes. You can have lunch together.” Standing at the scene, Ferraler watched City Hall workers arranging the posters and banners while discussing the matter with William.
He tilted his head and glanced at William, but did not see displeasure or any negative emotion on William’s face.
In the Baler Federation, dinner was the most solemn of the three meals in a day. Most of the time, people compressed breakfast and lunch as much as possible, reducing the content of the meal and saving the time for other things.
This gave dinner some more special meanings, such as formality, ceremony, abundance, such as ... In short, if a meeting was arranged under the excuse of eating together, choosing lunch might make people feel that the other party was slighting the meeting.
Ferraler had thought William would be unhappy, that he would feel he had been looked down on.
He knew this feeling very well. Most young people, especially outstanding young people, had almost never encountered many setbacks. Aside from irresistible natural factors, any failure caused by human interference would make them angry.
The more successful a young person was, the more furious he would be when facing such a situation. Ferraler did not know whether William was deeply shrewd and hiding his anger, or whether he truly was as he appeared: very calm.
As the bridge between William and the mayor, Ferraler dutifully explained, “Originally, the mayor intended to arrange a dinner to meet with you, but his schedule is already booked out more than a month, so...”
He shrugged, hoping William could understand how packed the schedule of a politician at the mayor’s level was, and how complicated it was to change such things.
“I understand.” William nodded. He did not explain that he truly did not care about having lunch with a “minor figure” like a mayor.
One had to know that before crossing over, the people who ate with him every day mostly represented an era. A mayor from another world ... was more or less just that. He respected the mayor, but did not revere him.
William did not wish to say more, and Ferraler naturally would not say more. He began habitually entering his brand-new identity.
To be honest, before leaving work yesterday, he had still had all kinds of dissatisfaction, confusion, and self-reproach.
But this morning, when he watched the bank transfer five thousand dollars into his account, he suddenly became relaxed. Five thousand dollars was not a small sum, even for someone like Ferraler.
It might not compare with the seventy-five thousand dollars transferred at the same time into the mayor’s campaign contribution account, but this money, these five thousand dollars, belonged to him. It did not belong to the office. It did not belong to the mayor.
As long as he accepted this layer of identity and the convenience it brought, Ferraler felt that William was a decent young man. This might be the first small capitalist to extend a hand of friendship to him, and he was also considering whether he should become more “intimate” with William.
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