Chapter 178 (1): Life Isn’t Only Poetry and Distant Dreams, But Also the Trifles in the Moment
Wayne quickly ended his call with Auston. He trusted that Auston would be able to quickly figure out everything with his scummy brain. What came later would be the fight for profits. Outside of the Minister—the Queen—everyone would welcome a bright future.
“With so many fence-sitters in the government, is Windsor really going to be alright?” Wayne muttered to himself. Through the two ambushing attempts after the Church of Moonlight, he had seen the Ministry of Magic for what it was. Free mages knew no loyalty, and with all the conflicts of interest within the ministry, everyone was working for their own benefit.
When personal interest outweighed national interest, they would sell the Queen if the price was right.
Wayne lamented the direction Windsor was going as a country. It was impossible to change things as an individual, so he decisively joined their selfish pursuit, learning from their experience and extracting the most essential teachings. He would be a muddy lotus growing out of muddy water[1].
From being a scum of society, he would work up the ladder to become a scum of the Ministry of Magic, with the ultimate goal of becoming Auston as soon as possible.
There was nothing he wanted more than climbing the scum ladder!
***
Six o’clock.
A candlelight dinner was set up in a high-end restaurant, with Francan cuisine being served. It was lauded as the most classy in the Chosen Land, embodying the rich Francan culture of romanticism. Its prominence in the food culture in Windsor was unquestionable.
Due to his eating habits and personal taste, Wayne was only gentlemanly in appearance, concealing the uncouth man he was. He tasted nothing romantic and only noticed the high prices and the complicated etiquette.
Filomina, on the other hand, was savoring the romantic atmosphere. The man sitting across from her improved with every taste. Young women wanted their men mature and composed, and their spouses dependable, but Filomina wasn’t a young woman anymore; subconsciously, she yearned for a man who was sixty percent mature and forty percent childish.
Her ideal partner shouldn’t be too mature because their life would be dull and passionless, which would only make her mentally older; he shouldn’t be too immature, like a literal manchild, because the resulting ruckus would get on her nerves.