Chapter 612 - 43: Acquiring the Alternate Plane Development License

Chapter 612: Chapter 43: Acquiring the Alternate Plane Development License

The attendant’s gaze swept past them, landing on Alonso.

He hesitated.

As an attendant at the Silver Tower, he of course recognized Alonso.

The attendant who had stood in the first-floor lobby for a year. The poor bastard from an Outer Plane who was always wearing a cheap uniform and smiling at everyone.

But now, Alonso was following behind Lady Douglas and Mr. Melfield, walking toward the elevator reserved for VIPs.

The attendant’s eyes flickered.

He thought about everything that had just happened.

Then, he gave Alonso a slight nod as well.

The nod was so slight it was almost imperceptible.

Alonso looked at him and returned the slight nod.

Their eyes met for a moment before quickly darting away.

Nothing more was said.

Nothing more needed to be said.

The elevator doors slowly closed after Alonso stepped inside.

Outside, the local attendants watched the slowly closing doors, their expressions indescribably complex as they stared at Alonso standing behind the honored guests.

There was envy.

There was jealousy.

There was fear.

And a faint trace of regret.

But there was nothing they could do.

They could only watch helplessly as the doors sealed shut.

The surrounding guests had already begun to move about.

They headed for their own elevators in twos and threes, their expressions still lofty and arrogant.

The show just now was over.

Now, it was time to get back to business.

The local attendants snapped back to their senses, quickly plastered on smiles, and began to greet the other guests.

"Sir, this way, please!"

"Ma’am, welcome!"

Their voices were still enthusiastic, their smiles still fawning.

But they didn’t spare another glance for Pittman, who stood nearby, frozen stiff.

It was as if he didn’t exist.

Pittman stood rooted to the spot, unmoving.

The invisible force that had sealed his throat had vanished at some point.

But he still couldn’t open his mouth.

Because he didn’t know what to say.

He could only stand there, watching the attendants who had once bowed and scraped before him now avoid him like the plague.

Watching the colleagues who were once his equals now refuse to even look at him.

Watching the closed elevator doors, behind which lay a world he could never reach.

His legs began to feel weak.

He wanted to run after them, to kneel, to beg.

But he couldn’t move.

It wasn’t that someone was restraining him.

It was a sense of powerlessness, even heavier than before, crushing him.

He knew he was finished.

Not that he might be finished.

He was *already* finished.

Starting today, he was no longer a supervisor at the Silver Tower.

Starting today, he had no more chances.

Starting today, he could only await his predetermined future.

Failing to pay his loans, being kicked out of his community, losing all dignity, losing his job, becoming a vagrant in the sewers, becoming experiment fodder at a collection station.

Pittman’s body began to tremble violently.

Tears streamed down his face.

But he didn’t make a sound.

He just stood there, dazed, waiting for his fate.

Inside the elevator, it was quiet.

The attendant stood by the door, his gaze fixed forward, a standard, professional smile on his face.

Cheris leaned against Murphy, idly twirling the ends of her hair out of boredom.

Murphy stood silently, his gaze fixed on the reflection in the elevator doors.

Alonso stood half a step behind them, his head lowered, staring at the tips of his shoes.

’His mind raced with thoughts—about the future, about the things he had long since planned, about everything that was now within his grasp.’

The elevator’s indicator lights blinked, one by one.

1st floor, 2nd floor, 3rd floor...

Finally, with a soft DING, the doors slowly opened.

They had reached the tenth floor.

The attendant bowed slightly and gestured for them to exit.

Just as Cheris was about to step out, Murphy suddenly spoke.

"That Pittman fellow... is he really taken care of just like that?"

Alonso looked up at Murphy, a flash of unconcealed astonishment in his eyes.

’What... is he talking about?’

’Isn’t the matter with Pittman already settled?’

’He’ll go home to ’rest’ for a few months, and then life will naturally crush him until he becomes a vagrant in the sewers.’

’Isn’t that the foregone conclusion?’

’Why is he even asking this question?’

’And he’s asking Lady Douglas.’

Alonso’s gaze fell involuntarily on Cheris.

The young woman was holding Murphy’s arm. Hearing his words, she turned her head to look at him.

A mischievous glint flashed in her aquamarine eyes.

"You’re only thinking about this now?"

Her voice was sickly sweet, yet tinged with a teasing tone.

"Why did you make the decision on your own just now, without asking me?"

Murphy looked at her, his jet-black eyes as calm as still water.

He didn’t answer her question.

He simply continued, asking:

"So, will Pittman’s future unfold according to my decision?"

Cheris looked at him, her aquamarine eyes curving into crescents.

She let out a sudden laugh.

The sound was crisp, like a Silver Bell, echoing in the quiet elevator.

"Yes, yes, yes," she said, drawing out the words, her voice tinged with amused resignation. "Happy now?"

She paused, then added:

"As long as I’m present, people will make the right decision."

Murphy nodded.

"Then that’s enough."

With that, he turned and stepped out of the elevator. Cheris, naturally, followed along, still holding his arm.

Alonso stood where he was, stunned for a second.