This Game Is Too Realistic-Chapter 525.3: I Will Consider Giving Myself A Few Days Off
The joke was about a man dressed head-to-toe in deathclaw hide, trying to prove to his drinking buddies that he was brave. He bragged that he had personally skinned a deathclaw to make his outfit.
His friends obviously did not believe him. To prove his courage, the man who did not dare take a single step beyond the Great Wall threw himself onto a passing prostitute, only for the indestructible Devil’s Silk fabric to expose him as an idiot.
It was originally just a joke with two embedded product placements, even including the brand names. But perhaps his writing was too realistic, unintentionally offending some noble who really had done such a thing.
The guard’s answer confirmed his guess. “Yes, well, a certain inner city resident didn’t find it funny and felt offended. Of course, you and I both know that he’s definitely not the person in the joke. He just kindly believes it’s inappropriate.”
“And what about the Workers’ Daily? We haven’t published anything about wealthy people for a long time! It even helped a noble lady find her missing cat!”
The guard countered, “Then why didn’t you keep publishing that kind of stuff? Things were fine before. You did useful work for the lords. But those serialized stories... How can awakeners fighters beat power armor barehanded? How can a mercenary buy an black card from the inner city? You’re treating the lord’s bestowed titles like trash! I’ve never heard of any mercenary who can do that. You’re leading people astray!”
Hal tried to argue. “We can remove those parts!”
“Mr. Dulong’s opinion is that you can’t.”
“What about House? That man lies more than I do! If you’ve ever listened to his broadcasts, you’d know my writing doesn’t even qualify as a bad joke!”
Hal’s face burned. House was the last person he wanted to mention, but he had no choice.
Compared to that nonsense-spouting fool, his own exaggerations were mild. At least he could not turn black into white like that man.
But the guard was unmoved, answering impatiently, “He has a license. Oh, and from now on, you’ll all need such a license. I don’t know the details. Go look it up yourself.”
Hal begged, “Then I’ll apply for one now! Please don’t drive me out!”
The guard shrugged indifferently. “You can do whatever you want. But you’ll need to pack this place up first. Tomorrow, we’re sealing the building. Anything you leave behind will be treated as trash.”
If the guy weren’t the prince of the Lion Kingdom, the guard wouldn’t have bothered talking this much. One rifle butt would have shut him up.
He tossed out his last sentence and left with his men, leaving Hal standing there in despair.
He felt like a clown.
The New Alliance had defeated the undefeated Army, and he had basked in that pride for so long. Yet on the eve of the victory celebration, six months of his effort had been erased with one sentence.
Looking at his silent staff, Hal finally spoke in a hollow voice, “Do you understand... It’s like I placed a flower on a pile of manure, and they insist on comparing themselves to the manure. In their shallow minds, is manure all that remains?”
“I only wrote a joke about a man wearing deathclaw hide. They claim it insults inner city nobles. Because people trim nails, and horses also trim their hooves... So does that mean people are horses? What kind of nonsensical logic is that?”
One staff member whispered, “... It’s true. New Alliance residents also wear deathclaw hides. They like you more than Mr. House.”
Another younger employee asked nervously, “This is clearly a misunderstanding... Can we appeal?”
The older editor shook his head. “It will be hard.”
Everyone fell into a long silence. Two reporters exchanged glances and looked toward Hal. “Boss...”
“What should we do?”
Hal snapped impatiently,
“I don’t know! Don’t ask me! You all stood aside watching and didn't say a word in my defense. Now, you ask me what to do! How should I know?”
He had planned a special issue about the New Alliance’s celebration and recent sweeping reforms, even rushing to finish the drafts, only for disaster to strike out of nowhere.
Seeing his helpless staff, Hal suddenly felt drained and let out a long sigh. “... I’ll still pay your wages. After that, we each go our own way.”
Perhaps he really was not suited for the profession.
The staff all showed reluctance.
The older editor immediately asked, “Can you pay in silver coins?”
Hal blinked. “Silver coins?”
The people standing beside the old editor nodded one after another and spoke softly. “We used to work for House... We were fired because we disagreed with him. He definitely won’t take us back.”
“And I wrote an article mocking him...”
“We plan to try our luck in the New Alliance. Don’t they also have a Survivor’s Daily? They should need us.”
“That’s right! And you can still exchange one chip for two silver coins there. In Boulder Town, one chip can’t even buy half a loaf of bread anymore!”
“The New Alliance isn’t good either...”
“But we heard you can buy a whole kilogram of corn for 0.9 silver! And extra nutrient paste can even be used to feed pigs!”
Hearing their chatter, Hal’s heavy mood suddenly eased a little. The wasteland was huge. There were still many places to go.
He had originally founded the newspaper simply to find a way to survive during his trial, a trial given by his father, who demanded that he and his brothers bring home a valuable treasure from the wasteland.
Over time, he had grown attached to the newspaper and forgotten his father’s instructions.
In truth, he no longer cared about that throne. It was a burden. Drinking and writing poetry were what he truly enjoyed.
Once he left, who knew how House would report on the New Alliance’s celebration, but having let go of everything, he no longer cared.
Whatever.
It was just one settlement.
He should be like a cloud in the sky, writing poems for those worthy of reading them, singing songs for those worthy of hearing them.
He had said...
He would open Survivor’s Daily across the wasteland! His employees had not given up on their dreams! How could he hang his head now?
“Then let’s all go together. It’ll be safer with more people!”
Everyone stared at him in surprise.
Especially the older editor, who asked in disbelief, “You’re leaving with us?”
“What are you talking about? I was never a survivor of this place. I told you. I come from a land bathed in rosy light... Though leaving so easily does betray the administrator’s expectations, I will apologize to him sincerely.”
Hal smiled again and cleared his throat. “If you like me as your boss, you can still follow me in the New Alliance. The desert’s survivors don’t yet have a newspaper. They deserve to know what happens in this wasteland every day. We can start anew there! We’ll grow big, grow strong, and shine again!”
“Though, it’s much poorer than here...”
Meanwhile, Dori had no idea she was unemployed. She was dragging Ample Time around Dawn City with great enthusiasm, gathering material for a celebration article that would never be published.
Afrni from the Honey Badger Kingdom sat by the embassy window, gazing at the sunset falling toward her homeland, worrying whether the gift she would send would represent the heart of her royal family and her people.
Mosquito, who had implanted the Little Feather symbiont, had once again gotten stuck inside the metal can he had made for himself, only to be snapped on camera by Yaya as she passed by. The photo was uploaded onto the forum and widely mocked, finally repaying a grudge from long ago.
Quit Bullshit dragged Makka Pakka and Beating Tiger to go fishing by the lake. Spring Water Commander and a group of Storm Corps brothers were in the lobby of the Highway Town Hotel, forcing drinks on Zhang Hai, the ramen-shop owner known for bragging he could drink forever. Lisa stood nearby, helplessly begging them to drink less while wanting to ask about Pangolin, but too embarrassed to do so.
Gale and Lone Wolf had gone off to study a reactor in West Continent Municipality. Night Ten was leveling up nearby with Pineapple Jiujiu by fighting Crackleclaw Crabs.
Old White and the Academy’s female researcher went to the forest east of Clearspring City, curious about the mind-interference device there. Irene brought back many strange ingredients from the desert and was apparently developing new nightmare-grade dishes with Tomato Eggs again.
Only one night remained before the victory celebration.
Dawn City was as lively as ever.
After leaving Liszt’s home, Chu Guang did not return to the shelter. Instead, he walked to the farmland on the eastern side of the city, gazing at the cultivated fields and deep in thought.
Seeing him stare for a long while, Lu Bei asked softly, “Lord... is something over there?”
Chu Guang answered casually. “No.”
Lu Bei scratched his head awkwardly. “I thought you kept looking because something was wrong.”
“Well... There is a bit of a problem.” After thinking briefly, Chu Guang continued, “I’m thinking that we shouldn’t shortchange them.”
Food security was paramount. It could not be entrusted entirely to vassal states. These farmlands were valuable resources. Perhaps he should deduct a portion of the taxes to subsidize the laborers who stayed behind to farm, easing their worries about food prices the following year.
Thinking about it gave Chu Guang a headache again.
Before, he never felt anything. Just waving his hand meant a string of numbers disappearing and things appearing.
But once the New Alliance grew in scale, he immediately understood how difficult it was to keep a huge settlement running smoothly.
There were simply too many places that required money...
And now, a single thought of his no longer affected only a few people’s livelihoods but entire families.
If he made a mistake, people would go hungry.
Some policies worked when the population was small but failed when the population grew. But how small was small, and how large was large? That was difficult to judge.
Watching the administrator fall into deep thought, Lu Bei hesitated a moment before finally speaking. “Administrator...”
Chu Guang looked at the young man. “What is it?”
Lu Bei gazed at him seriously. “I think you should take a proper rest... You returned from the frontlines three days ago and haven’t rested a single day.”
Chu Guang froze briefly, then smiled and patted him on the shoulder. “You don’t need to worry about me. I know when to rest.”
“... I just hope you take care of your health,” Lu Bei said softly. “It’s not just me. I think... everyone hopes so.”
Seeing the concern in the young man’s eyes, Chu Guang nodded with a smile. “I’ll consider giving myself a few days off.”
