Mystery: Gray Walker

Chapter 23 Underground Workers

This was an extremely spacious underground space, very tall, but at this moment it was filled with mountains of clutter.

As far as the eye could see, there were mountains of wooden crates, broken cardboard boxes, scattered and bundled kraft paper document bags, and booklets and loose pages of various sizes and colors piled directly on the ground.

They were piled up haphazardly, some already collapsed, with papers scattered all over the ground. A few dim electric lights hung high up, outlining the enormous shape of this "mountain of paper."

"Here, that's all."

Old Bob pointed to a corner deep inside the room, where there was a rickety wooden table piled with odds and ends, and several empty wooden crates scattered around it.

"Your territory is right there. Clean it up yourself."

After Old Bob finished speaking, he seemed to have completed his guiding role, and turned to slowly walk back. "I'm in the duty room upstairs. Don't keep coming up here unless it's important. I'm hard of hearing, and I can't hear you if you call me."

He stopped at the door, glanced back at Green, and said, "Kid, be careful when you're rummaging through things in here. Some of the old stuff... you can't shake it off."

After saying that, he hunched over and disappeared down the steps outside the door.

Green stood there, looking at the mountain of files and clutter in front of him, and couldn't help but want to curse.

Henry, that old fox, clearly knew he had no better option for the time being, and he couldn't disregard his uncle's feelings.

He gritted his teeth. "At least it's 'quiet' enough here, and it's... secluded enough."

Wait! Quiet? Secluded...

[For your first time taking this potion, it is recommended to find an absolutely safe place where you will not be disturbed. The process may be somewhat...uncomfortable, but Sequence 9 potions are usually not too intense. Remember, concentrate your mind, guide your spirit, and feel the changes.]

Suddenly, Lillian's words flashed through my mind.

"If I get off work later..."

He looked around. "Absolutely safe...no one will bother me..."

He suddenly realized that this place perfectly met the conditions Lillian had instructed, and he could take the 'Apprentice' potion here, complete his advancement, and step into the realm of the extraordinary!

Thinking of this, he was immediately filled with motivation, and even a little excited.

"Get to work!"

Green kicked aside the scattered, rotting cardboard boxes near the doorway, clearing a path that was barely passable, at least leading to his "territory".

Walking up to the wooden table, Green frowned and swept all the clutter off the table to the floor. The tabletop revealed its original mottled wood surface, covered in a thick layer of dust.

He casually tore a relatively clean rag from a broken box next to him and wiped the table and the wooden chair that looked fairly sturdy.

He plopped down on the wooden chair, which groaned under the weight.

"Phew—! I need to clean up first, at least enough to accommodate people..."

Green stood up and began to survey the 'battlefield'.

He first had to clear out a certain amount of workspace and get rid of the 'junk' that looked worthless at first glance.

He rolled up his sleeves and started with the 'small mountain' that had collapsed the most badly, where the paper had begun to mold and turn black, and even grew fuzz.

Enduring the pungent smell and the grime on his hands, he gathered the trash together and packed it into several tattered sacks he found.

It was quite heavy and extremely dirty.

As he dragged the sack to the door, he initially intended to throw it directly onto the open ground in front of the building. But remembering Henry's words, he stopped. If he threw it away haphazardly, he would likely have to clean up the mess himself in the end, and Henry might even use it against him to deduct from his already meager salary.

He looked around and found a half-person-high, rusty trash can in a shady corner on the side of the building. It was empty and looked like it hadn't been used for a long time.

"This is it."

So, Green made several trips throughout the morning to clear away the obvious pile of garbage at the entrance, and the trash can was almost full.

Despite this, he still couldn't see the end of his work. The basement was cold and damp, but Green was sweating profusely.

There's just too much of it.

He straightened up, looked at the small area near the entrance that had only been cleared, and the few bundles of "pending" documents that had been sorted out, and let out a long sigh. Just climbing the stairs would have exhausted most people long ago.

Just then, the wooden door leading to the ground creaked softly. It was old Bob.

He slowly walked down, carrying an old lunchbox in his hand. His gaze swept over the small clearing that Green had cleared and the neatly stacked bundles of documents next to it, and a hint of surprise flashed in his eyes.

"Tsk," he clicked his tongue, "Not bad, kid."

Green wiped the sweat from his brow with his sleeve and remained silent. In his opinion, it was more practical to help someone than to spout nonsense.

"However," old Bob walked closer and nudged a wad of paper on the ground with his foot, "this pile of junk isn't something that can be cleaned up in ten days or two weeks. That Henry kid is all talk and no action."

He pulled an old pocket watch from his pocket, flicked open the cover, and said, "We're here. The cafeteria is open for lunch."

Old Bob waved the lunchbox in his hand. "Come on, I'll take you. If we don't go now, those office workers will snatch all the good food."

Green paused for a moment. He had been busy all morning and had almost forgotten the time. Now, reminded of it, his stomach betrayed him and started growling.

"The canteen? Can I go there too?" he asked. He had heard his uncle Victor mention that the port authority's food was decent and inexpensive.

"Of course, the first floor of that red brick building in the back. Temporary workers are employees too, they can do it with their work badges or... like you, you can follow the senior employees and just give them your name."

Old Bob turned around and slowly walked up the steps again. "Hurry up, or there won't be any food. I'll have to keep smelling your dust this afternoon."

Green looked at his dirty hands and clothes, and hesitated. Go to the cafeteria looking like this?

Old Bob, as if he had eyes in the back of his head, said without turning around:

"You're not the only one doing the hard labor at the port authority. Dockworkers, warehouse keepers, maintenance crew... aren't they all covered in dust and grease? Don't they eat? Just wash your face. There's a tap over there."

Green no longer hesitated.

He was indeed hungry and needed to get out of this suffocating environment to catch his breath.

Thinking of this, he quickly followed old Bob to the lobby on the first floor.

Old Bob pointed to a rusty sink in the corner. Green walked over, turned on the tap, and the icy water invigorated him.

After Green finished washing up, old Bob was already waiting at the door. When he saw Green come out, he put his hands behind his back and walked slowly toward another slightly shorter red brick building behind the main building.

"The stew in the cafeteria is alright, it's filling. Sometimes the bread is so hard it could break your teeth, but you can still eat it soaked in the soup," Old Bob muttered as he walked. "Don't expect anything good. There are special meals, but they're not for the lower-level staff."

This is different from what Uncle Victor said...

Green followed silently, observing the scene along the way. The port authority was busier than when he had entered, with employees in various uniforms or work clothes coming and going.

The canteen was bustling with noise, filled with the mixed smells of food, tobacco, and sweat.

The long tables and chairs were arranged somewhat crampedly, and people were eating and talking, making a lot of noise. Just as old Bob had said, there were indeed quite a few dirty workers like him here.

Old Bob walked to the food window with practiced ease and handed over the lunchbox.

The person serving the food was a plump middle-aged woman wearing a greasy apron. She glanced at old Bob and then at Green behind him.

"Old Bob, is this... new? Which department are you from?" the woman asked as she scooped stew into Old Bob's lunchbox.

"The temporary workers Henry brought in for the back storage area," old Bob replied briefly.

"The storage area? Oh..." the woman drawled, her eyes filled with sympathy. She gave Green a generous portion of stew and two dark bread rolls.

"It must be tough there. Eat more, young man, you can't do that kind of work if you're not strong enough."

Green paid two pence, then took the rough earthenware plate and bread, and thanked him in a low voice.

Old Bob had already found a corner seat against the wall and started eating by himself.

Green sat down next to him, looking at the stew on the plate. It seemed to contain potatoes, carrots, and some unidentified chunks of meat, emitting a greasy aroma. The dark bread was indeed very hard.

He took a bite of the stew; it tasted alright, and being warm, it was a rare treat for him, who was both cold and hungry. He imitated old Bob, breaking up his hard bread and soaking it in the stew before burying his head in it and eating.

As Green ate, he glanced around out of the corner of his eye. It was like a miniature port authority, where people from different departments and social classes briefly intersected.

Just as his gaze swept over the relatively quiet area near the window, a familiar figure made him pause slightly.

It was Henry Burns.

The manager, who had looked serious and calculating that morning, was now sitting at a small round table covered with a clean checkered tablecloth, opposite a young woman.