Chapter 290 - 230: Project Initiation! Zog’s First Charity Project

Chapter 290: Chapter 230: Project Initiation! Zog’s First Charity Project

"Before this, I was a teacher," the Tiefling said, her voice trembling involuntarily as she spoke of her former profession. "It was a weekend, and I was watching a variety show with all the boarding students."

She wiped at her tears, her expression pained, as if reliving a nightmare.

"Then... then I don’t know what happened, but I was suddenly filled with this hatred for the children. I felt like being so tired was all their fault. They were disobedient, they didn’t study, they got into brawls with kids from other schools and got me disciplined... My head was just full of hate and anger, and then... then... I couldn’t stop myself from wanting to... to hit them..."

When she finished, she began to weep silently.

But Old Mike knew she wasn’t telling the whole truth. He’d been through it too, so he knew perfectly well the impulse hadn’t been to *hit* those kids.

It was to beat them to death.

There was a huge difference.

All he could think about then was beating the tavern owner to death.

After the former teacher finished her story, the next Tiefling began to tell his.

He was a recently graduated Mage Apprentice. He hadn’t gone to a school as good as Repin, but he’d still found a decent job and was about to start. Then he turned into a Tiefling, and the offer was rescinded...

Old Mike listened, bored.

He was starting to regret coming to this so-called support group.

This "support group" was just a bunch of unlucky bastards crammed into a small room to share their sob stories.

Maybe seeing you weren’t the only one suffering was supposed to make you feel a bit better.

To Old Mike, it felt no different from watching a blind man walk into a tree and then laughing at him.

Except now he was one of the "blind men."

All the members of this support group had been turned into Tieflings by the Magic Vision Device incident.

Or so they said.

Old Mike had a feeling some natural-born Tieflings had snuck in.

’People this emotionally fragile... oh, not people anymore... they’re a con artist’s favorite target.’

’Those mixed-blood bastards—the career swindlers, thieves, and tomb raiders—would never pass up an opportunity like this.’

Even though he’d become a Tiefling himself, Old Mike still held a deep-seated prejudice against those mixed-bloods.

If it hadn’t been for his wife’s good intentions, her hope that he might find some solace here, he never would have come.

’Completely useless.’

The pity party dragged on for nearly two hours before it finally ended. Old Mike let out a heavy sigh, got up, and left.

’Now where to kill some time?’

He’d lost his job at the Factory.

The Factory’s owner claimed that once Mike was "cured," he’d be welcomed back to the "big family."

’Hah. A big family.’

’The boss always had a way with words that made you want to slap him.’

’What kind of "big family" works its "family members" to the bone for a pittance while the "patriarch" just gets richer and richer?’

’Return to the big family.’

’He must take me for a fool.’

’The production line waits for no one. The workers are all just cogs in the machine. When one of those cogs suddenly sprouts a pair of horns, you just swap it out for a new one.’

It made sense, when he thought about it.

The boss didn’t want a horned monster in his Factory, and his workmates didn’t want to be on the line with him anymore. Who knew if he was dangerous now?

He understood why his boss and coworkers had done it, but it still left a bad taste in his mouth.

But more pressing than his hurt feelings was an even bigger problem.

’Where was the money going to come from?’

He hadn’t dared to tell his wife he’d lost his job. It would only add to her worries without solving anything.

For now, they were scraping by on their savings, and he had no idea how long that would last.

He’d already been to countless hiring places. Without exception, they all rejected him the moment they saw his face.

No factory had the time or inclination to differentiate between a human-turned-Tiefling and a natural-born one. There was no shortage of workers, after all.

Old Mike wandered the streets aimlessly.

’Is this what it’s come to? A life of crime? With my build, I could probably be a debt collector. I’m a decent fighter, and this Tiefling face might even be an advantage for that line of work.’

He gave a self-deprecating laugh.

Crime in Twin Tower City had been curbed significantly, so the risk of getting killed on the streets was much lower than before.

Still, that didn’t make it a safe line of work. You never knew what a desperate person might do.

’I’ll keep looking for a proper job. I won’t go down that road unless I have absolutely no other choice.’

He’d heard the docks were hiring loaders, so Old Mike headed that way.

He’d developed a new habit recently: he stuck to the alleyways, avoiding the main roads, even if it meant taking a detour.

He was afraid of the looks people gave him now.

Every passerby stared at him like he was some kind of monster, and it made Old Mike feel as if he’d been stripped bare.

He pulled his hat low and kept his head down, striding quickly through the deserted alley, terrified someone would notice there was something wrong with him.

"WOOF! WOOF!"

A black dog appeared from out of nowhere, barking furiously as it charged him.

Old Mike jumped, startled. A moment later, a surge of anger washed over him.

’Why does even a dog have it in for me?’

He was about to deliver a vicious kick and teach the stupid mutt a lesson.

"Coal Ball! Stop!" a child’s anxious cry came from behind the dog.

The black dog, Coal Ball, stopped in its tracks.

Old Mike held back his kick.

’That’s a well-trained dog,’ he thought. ’It follows its master’s commands instantly.’

’Some people have no clue how to raise a dog. They don’t make it understand its place, then they turn around and blame the dog for being too stupid to listen.’