9th Grade Civil Servant In Another World Chapter 18 - White Raven Order ― Georg (1)

“Newspapers! Get your newspapers! Today’s words from the Supreme Leader are inside! There’s also news about the new movie! Newspapers for sale!”

Since coming to this world, I’ve learned about things I never knew or cared about before.

Like the ecosystem of newspaper boys.

Newspaper sellers have their own designated territories, which are sometimes assigned by the newspaper companies but more often agreed upon among themselves.

Even among those young children, there exists a certain set of rules.

Georg, the hidden master of the newspaper seller world who was simultaneously employed by three different newspaper companies, had claimed half of District 13 through his own power alone.

At dawn, he’d run on foot delivering papers here and there, and when the sun rose, he’d shout “Extra! Extra!” on street corners.

I felt sorry for the boy who worked tirelessly, but since he always seemed energetic, I left him be.

“One paper each.”

“Thank you!”

The boy smiled brightly as he handed me one paper from each of the different newspaper companies. These days, I don’t interfere with his work, but instead take a slightly longer route to work each morning to buy newspapers.

Georg didn’t suspect or antagonize me, but he didn’t completely trust me either. As befitting a clever boy.

So I decided to buy newspapers every day until an opportunity came to turn the situation around.

After all, as Oscar’s case had proven, consistently showing your face was a plus factor in relationships with others—it certainly wasn’t a minus.

And the opportunity came sooner than I thought.

***

‘It would have been nice if he were a mage.’

This was the thought that crossed Georg’s mind when he first met Lucas Redan.

No matter how much Georg was called an old soul due to his harsh life, he was still a boy in his prime who admired great archmages with tremendous destructive power.

It was the same when Lucas bragged that being a civil servant would be very helpful.

Personally, he disliked civil servants.

Georg’s opinion began to change slightly when he heard that Lucas had discovered a secret passage to infiltrate Oscar’s factory.

Daniel, who had told him the heroic tale, said that Lucas must have countless pieces of information in his hands.

From that day on, Georg had been continuously pondering one possibility.

Even while waking up before dawn to run to the newspaper office to receive the day’s papers, and running around with sweat dripping from his soles regardless of fair or foul weather to sell newspapers to people.

At some point, Lucas had started buying his newspapers in the morning.

Naturally, as if he had always done so.

He didn’t ask for anything or engage in long conversations.

He was probably trying to act like an ordinary passerby, but Lucas’s gaze when receiving the newspapers was utterly indifferent.

But lunchtime was different.

One day, after checking his morning earnings and crouching in a corner of an alley to hurriedly stuff bread into his mouth, a shadow fell over Georg’s small body.

Looking up, he saw a frail man approaching, blocking out the sun.

“I’ve been looking for you for a while.”

Lucas was breathing heavily, wiping sweat droplets from his hair as he crouched down beside him in the same position.

“Here. I asked Mrs. Schmidt to pack an extra one.”

What he suddenly held out was the famous Mrs. Schmidt brand sandwich. Georg knew it very well—that wonderful food.

Georg swallowed the bread that filled his mouth and looked up at Lucas.

“…Why are you doing this?”

“Speak casually.”

“I don’t suspect you like Richard or Erika do. Nothing will change even if you take care of me.”

Then Lucas snorted.

“You don’t think I’d believe that, do you?”

Georg hesitated before accepting the sandwich. He glanced nervously as the white bread quickly became stained from his dirty hands, but Lucas didn’t seem to mind.

“Good. Well, I’m going.”

“Going?”

“Got anything else to say?”

“…No.”

Lucas gave a crooked smile and ruffled his hair before disappearing.

Left alone, Georg stared blankly at the sandwich before taking a bite.

It wasn’t dry rye bread. It wasn’t thin, watery gruel without any substance either.

It was the first proper meal he’d had since Erika had taken care of him last time.

The salty ham and sweet cabbage sauce stuck deliciously to his tongue.

“Really delicious—cough!”

Georg, who had been eating hurriedly, choked and pushed even the pieces that had fallen out of his mouth back in.

It was a taste he’d had somewhere before.

“Where was it?”

A cool autumn breeze blew, cooling his sweat.

***

World Calendar Year 1896, September 15th.

It was the boy’s tenth birthday.

Georg remembered everything he saw and heard that day. He knew he would never forget it until the day he died.

He woke up to the sound of birds and had breakfast with his mother and younger brother.

Georg, who had gone to sleep the night before with his heart pounding with anticipation, was a little disappointed when his father wasn’t there because he’d gone to work, and his mother treated him like any other ordinary day.

But he soon forced himself to think that they had just forgotten because they were too busy, and quietly swallowed his sadness.

As he finished his quiet meal and was playing with his younger brother, his mother suddenly asked,

“Would you like to go to your father’s company?”

Georg naturally nodded enthusiastically with joy.

His father was the president who ran a newspaper company. Originally hired as a reporter, he had written many excellent articles on his way to that position.

Georg’s dream was to become a reporter like his father. When he said so, his father also laughed heartily with pleasure.

They lived in District 5, the media center of Lüdelheim, and his father’s newspaper company was also on a nearby main street.

Georg arrived at the newspaper company, holding his mother’s hand with pure joy.

The office where paper and pens flew everywhere, typewriters clattered noisily, and the scent of ink wafted through the air. In the basement, the printing press would be spinning busily with a whirring sound.

However, when they opened the door, the darkened office was only silent.

“Father…?”

The moment Georg cautiously stepped inside, the magic lights all turned on at once, spilling light.

Pop! Pop!

The moment toy firecrackers spewed colorful sparks.

“Happy birthday, Georg!”

Countless people shouted in chorus. They were the reporters and staff belonging to his father’s newspaper company.

A smile as big as a washbasin appeared on Georg’s face as he saw the familiar faces of his older brothers and sisters.

“Happy birthday, Georg.”

“Father!”

His father appeared carrying a cake topped with lots of whipped cream, and Georg ran to hug him in his excitement, colliding with the cake.

Splat!

The cake that had taken flight landed right on top of his father’s head.

Whipped cream splattered everywhere, turning the office into chaos.

“Hahaha! Boss, you look just like a snowman.”

When the reporters clutched their stomachs and laughed, his father also chuckled merrily.

“Well, we should at least taste it.”

A pretty secretary sister scraped a little whipped cream from his father’s clothes and offered it to Georg.

Georg burst into laughter at the sweetness that lingered on his tongue.

His father and mother, and his older brothers and sisters, gave him an armload of presents.

From children’s storybooks to train models and fountain pens—all carefully prepared gifts.

Though he was only ten years old, he thought he was the happiest he’d ever been in his life.

If he had known then that he was destined never to taste happiness again after that day, he would have begged them to please not take his father away, saying he didn’t need presents or anything.

Instead of foolishly praying, “Please let me become a wonderful reporter.”

When the birthday party ended, his father suggested they all go to a restaurant he had reserved.

The older brothers and sisters were also excited, saying it had been a long time since the boss’s wallet would be emptied, and they would order everything they wanted to eat.

Bang bang bang!

“Special Police! Come out!”

He didn’t want to remember much of what happened after that. However, each scene stuck to a corner of his brain, refusing to fall away, repeating vividly every night.

A young reporter who protested and fell under merciless beating.

The secretary sister who tried to block them, suffered severe harassment, and collapsed in shock.

Red liquid splattered over the whipped cream.

His father and employees being dragged away in handcuffs in a line.

The soldiers who trampled on him and his brother as they followed, crying.

His mother screamed softly and embraced her two young sons.

“It’s okay. It’ll be okay. Those people seem to have misunderstood. Your father will be back soon, so let’s go home first.”

His mother’s voice, trying to stay calm but shaking enough for even a child to notice.

His father never came back.

At school, the teachers themselves ostracized Georg, and his mother was too busy going out somewhere every day to pay attention to him.

He only learned much later that she had been going around to anyone she could reach, pleading with them.

“I sincerely apologize for my husband’s false report. But it’s really a misunderstanding that he did it on purpose! My husband isn’t that kind of person. Please, show mercy!”

His mother would sometimes be away from home for days and return covered in bruises.

Like that, she fought persistently and tenaciously against Kruger’s subordinates.

In the middle of winter when snow was falling.

Georg secretly left the house and ran through the deserted streets.

Someone had boarded up the door of the empty newspaper office with planks and nails.

Georg went around to the back window and pulled out nails and tore off planks until his hands were completely torn.

The office was in ruins.

The images of reporters busily coming and going, bringing news to his father, flickered before his eyes.

Looking at that, there had been times when he clenched his fist saying, “I’ll become a righteous reporter too!”

Georg clenched his fist like back then and wiped away the tears that kept flowing.

On the messy office floor, a newspaper with someone’s footprints was scattered about.

The last remaining copy in this newspaper company.

Georg picked up the newspaper and examined the problematic article.

Adults said this and that were slander against the Supreme Leader, but he still couldn’t understand it even after reading it again.

He carefully folded it and put it in his chest, muttering,

“I’ll keep it forever. And when Kruger disappears, I’ll establish a newspaper company with the same name.”

He already understood that it would be difficult for his father to be released.

When he carefully opened the front gate, worried that his unauthorized outing might be discovered.

A terrible scream echoed from inside the house.

He quickly climbed the stairs with his short legs. The sounds of maids wailing flowed into the corridor.

“Madam! Madam! Please open your eyes!”

He stood firmly in front of the open door, looking at the unrealistic scene inside the room.

His mother’s body, so emaciated that her former appearance couldn’t be found, lay on the bed like a still life.

At that moment, Georg’s heart shattered and fell. Never to return to its original state.

Before night came, Georg had to leave the mansion, led by the hand of someone called a civil servant.

All he could take with him was the newspaper he kept in his chest and a necklace his mother always wore.

After hastily going through various procedures, Georg and his young brother were confined to different orphanages.

Life at the orphanage was terrible.

The director and teachers who didn’t abuse the children but didn’t give them affection either.

The gray, dreary building and boring classes, meals with no taste at all.

Shabby sleeping quarters and relationships between inmates that were no different from the law of the jungle.

After enduring and enduring for about a year, Georg one night secretly infiltrated the director’s office and stole his own records.

After tearing up the documents and flushing them down the toilet, he ran and climbed over the orphanage wall in one breath.

He became a street child.

***

“…Excuse me.”

On a day when the weather had become quite chilly, I came out with Lucas’s frail body wrapped tightly in a coat.

I was about to hand over the sandwich as usual and turn around when I felt Georg grab the hem of my clothes.

I stopped walking abruptly and caught my breath.

Huff, hah, huff, hah.

‘Finally, he’s come over.’

I pressed my mouth firmly with my hand to suppress the rotten smile that was about to form.

Had it been two weeks since I started buying three different newspapers from Georg every day and delivering sandwiches?

Considering that Oscar came over in just one week, this was quite a difficult opponent.

But since he was that much more important as potential manpower, it was worth the effort.

A newspaper boy who was doing his part energetically on the harsh streets. Especially such a spirited child with such intelligent eyes.

“What?”

When I turned around and asked indifferently, Georg bit his lip for a moment, lowered his head, then looked up at me.

His gaze was clear and distinct, but trembling slightly.

“Can you find just one person? Um, brother.”

An infinitely kind smile must have spread across my face. I stroked the boy’s bushy straw-colored hair.

“Of course.”