Revenge After Death



Steven and I were taken aback when Zion brought us to the rented houses near Tranquil Garden.

This was Huma, where every inch of land was valuable. I never imagined that there would be a slumlike alley so close to the affluent district.

The alley was extremely narrow-it would be cramped even for two people to walk side by side. It was just a small walkway between the new buildings and the old ones in the neighborhood.

This alley seemed to separate the poor and the wealthy in Huma.

Standing at the end of the alley, I glanced at the towering high-rises on the right and then at the dilapidated buildings yet to be demolished on the left. Even though the wealthy and the poor were so physically near, yet they were miles apart.

"The rent here is cheap over a thousand dollars per month. But that's the average wage in other cities. Nothing is left after paying rent," Zion mumbled before sighing.

"That was why such a huge conflict arose because of the disparity between the wealthy and the poor. The poor have never seen the joy of the wealthy, and the wealthy despise the effort and labor of the poor," he said.

"We've lodged complaints countless times. This is Tranquil Garden-a high-end neighborhood in Huma. Do you think it's acceptable for the nearby dilapidated buildings to be occupied by migrant workers?" Many of the wealthy protested, "It smells awful having to pass by here daily. Do you know how much they're affecting our property value?"

I watched while those wealthy pointed fingers and scolded others. They might not be the wealthiest in the area, yet compared to the true elites from the upper class, these middle-class people seemed to look down on the poor the most.

"Move out immediately!" A stern middle-aged woman had other people kicking the migrant workers out.

An old suitcase was thrown out, ending up damaged with its zipper torn. Clothes spilled out onto the ground, as well as a few plastic-wrapped cornbread and sandwiches.

The dark-skinned man who was kicked out appeared to be elderly, likely in his 60s. He was packing his belongings in a rush, seemingly anxious.

Although he wasn't dressed in the best clothes, he was still clean. His stubble was turning gray, and his hair was streaked with white.

"Move out from here, all of you! You migrant workers are just like beggars!" That woman was still cursing with a hand over her nose disdainfully. She was about to step on the man's cornbread.

I moved forward to grab her by the collar and dragged her aside. Frowning, I asked, "Are you planning to stay in jail for a few days for assaulting others?"

"I'm from the police department," Zion said as he flashed his badge.

"So what if you're a police officer? We've already bought over this place for demolition. It's only fair to get them to leave!" the middle-aged woman said haughtily.

"We've paid a month's worth of rental," the man said earnestly before choking up.

"Don't you understand me? Your landlord sold their house, and now, it belongs to me!" she continued to shout.

"Rental agreements are not voided by sales," Steven said.

Startled, the middle-aged woman frowned. "I'm the homeowner. What I say goes!"Content © NôvelDrama.Org 2024.

"Let's call the police, then." Steven looked at Zion. "I'll cover the legal fee. Just sue her. She won't be able to win."

The middle-aged woman's expression darkened. Upon seeing Steven's confident demeanor, she gritted her teeth and spat out the words, "Such a busybody."

"Would wealthy people like you be able to survive without having the underclass in the society?" I chuckled coldly. "Who would build houses for you without the poor, the farmers, and the migrant workers?"

The wealthy wouldn't be able to survive without the disparity between them and the poor.

The wealthy would use every means to maintain the disparity between them and the poor. That was because they needed the poor to work for them, yet they would look down on them condescendingly at the same time.

Such was the common reality of the current society-one would rely on another to sustain their living yet at the same time despise them for being poor and underclass.

The middle-aged woman stomped away angrily when she couldn't win over our arguments.