Chapter 4821

"This isn't a good place," Steve said, "not now, and it certainly wasn't back then. I'm willing to believe the Stark family wasn't deeply involved, but you must know the secrets of this place."

"Knowing doesn't mean anything," Stark said, looking at him, "since we weren't in cahoots back then, we certainly aren't now. I had Shiler buy a house here, not to drag him into this. You know, it's always been him dragging the whole world into hell."

"That's why I'm reminding you," Steve said, "you grew up here, so it's normal to have some psychological scars—I completely understand. But burning this place to the ground isn't wise."

"Who said I'm going to burn this place to the ground?"

"You brought Shiler here for that reason, didn't you?" Steve pointed out, "The secret of this place isn't really a secret—even I, an outsider, know it. It won't be long before Shiler finds out, and then he'll surely cause a big commotion. What will be left here then?"

"Shiler's doing much better now," Stark said somewhat helplessly, "otherwise, why wouldn't I have advised him to buy a house here before? You also have to admit that this situation must be resolved, and none of us could do it better than him."

Stark gave Steve one last look, then turned and went upstairs. Steve stood at the foot of the stairs, sighed, was about to follow Stark's steps, when he suddenly saw, in a decorative mirror in the hallway, the figure of a girl in a servant's uniform, still holding a tray.

Steve blinked slightly. When he looked again, the figure had vanished, but it was definitely not his imagination. He recognized the girl's outfit—that light green professional dress—once worn by servants at a Hampton holiday manor.

Steve took three steps at a time to reach the upper floor. Others had already finished their circuit; this place had all the rooms a manor should have, including a library, study, reception room, and guest rooms. Nearly every window looked out onto the sea, the ocean's blue mingling with the morning's gold.

Bucky emerged from the library and saw Steve standing in the hallway, staring at him. Bucky walked over, put his arm around Steve's shoulder, and asked, "What did you two talk about?"

"Do you still remember Sweet Holiday Manor?" Steve suddenly asked.

"Oh, you mean that resort on the outskirts of South Fork?" Bucky fell into recollection, thought carefully, then said, "I remember they were doing a big promotion in Brooklyn back then, I even passed the interview, but I forget why I didn't go work there."

"It's because you overslept on your first day," Steve said, recalling his black history clearly, "that morning you came flying past my door like a panicked pangolin. Then, less than two hours later, you came back dejected, because they don't tolerate tardy slackers."

Bucky let out a long sigh, then said, "It must've been Sally dragging me out for drinks that made me oversleep. Otherwise, I must've been obsessing over tinkering with the radio again. If I could've worked there back then, we might've been able to afford an old Dodge..."

"The wages there were indeed high," Steve said, "and the place had mandatory tips—you could easily pocket a dollar or two. But not getting the job back then was actually a good thing."

"How so?"

"You forgot? The place shut down before it even opened for two years. Back then it was a huge scandal—I heard from Mrs. Evan that they discovered an unknown bacterium in the manor's water system, water contamination, which made many guests sick, so it closed down."

Bucky nodded and said, "Well, not going was a good thing—I don't want diarrhea... but why did you suddenly bring this up?"

"Do you still remember what kind of people they hired when they recruited?"

"I can't remember that," Bucky frowned, thinking hard, then after a while said, "I remember they had requirements for the figures of male and female servers, especially strict height requirements. Men needed to be strong, women needed to be voluptuous. But that makes sense—after all, it's a high-end resort, servers also need to be easy on the eyes."

"Their uniforms were light green, right?"

"Exactly," Bucky said, clearly impressed by this memory, "I remember complaining to the others who came with me to the interview—dressed like this, walking on the lawn, you'd easily get eaten by a lawnmower."

Steve fell into thought, Bucky frowned slightly: "So there's a problem?"

"I saw someone," Steve said, not choosing to hide it, "wearing the manor servant's uniform."

"Impossible!" Bucky raised his voice, "That place closed decades ago—who'd still wear that uniform? You must be seeing things."

"Maybe," Steve didn't deny it, because he'd only caught a glimpse, not seen it clearly. After chatting with Bucky for a while, the impression faded, so he didn't bring it up again.

They toured the entire manor, all expressing admiration for the house. However, during the process, Stark, Natasha, and Steve were sometimes dazed, speaking and then suddenly spacing out, staring at one spot. Others asked what was wrong, but they didn't answer.

"Breakfast is ready!" Gluttony shouted from downstairs.

At that moment, Strange hurried over from the front door. He rarely wore a suit, and Gluttony eyed him, saying, "Why are you dressed so formally today?"

"I have a wedding to attend in West Hampton," Strange sat at the dining table, reached out, and gently tugged his tie, "it's the daughter of one of my former patients."

Others came down one by one and sat at the table. Breakfast was quite ordinary: fried eggs, bacon, sandwiches, with fruit and vegetable salad, stewed tomatoes and beans, and oatmeal. Though typical white folks' fare, the ingredients were good and fresh from the pot, so it tasted quite fragrant.

"By the way," Strange said, "Natasha, could you trouble yourself to act as my date today?"

Natasha raised an eyebrow and said, "What occasion?"

"Just a lawn wedding," Strange frowned, "I don't want to deal with the ladies sending autumn glances, and that gentleman keeps trying to introduce me to his second daughter."

"You could try reaching out," Natasha's tone was like an old grandmother's, "no need to shut everyone out. A proper emotional life benefits mind and body, right, Shiler?"

Gluttony nodded and said, "Dating isn't bad. But if you truly want to enter an emotional life, you might need to tweak your packed schedule a bit..."

"I just don't want to change," Strange said, "I've got to watch the Southern Cross, maintain the magical defense network, perform surgeries, film movies. Now isn't a good time to start a new life."

"If you say so, then no time ever is," Steve said, "of course, I'm not blaming you. Just that things are endless, and taking personal time to rest isn't bad."

"Work is rest," Strange said astonishingly, "when this job tires me out, I just do another to switch my brain—I don't feel any fatigue."

"Is this your first time attending a banquet here?" Arrogance spoke up, and the whole room fell silent. Everyone stopped their petty chatter, but didn't look at Arrogance, just ate on their own.

"Of course not," Strange said, slightly frowning but still answering, he cut into his fried egg, then said, "I've been to Hampton many times, attended several weddings here alone. What's up?"

"When was the first time?"

"I don't recall exactly," Strange also showed a look of recollection, "back then I was still young, far from magic, but already had some small achievements in medicine..."

"What was your impression of this place?"

"How could it be good?" Strange said somewhat self-mockingly, "a young doctor from a small town, just beginning to show promise, who performed outstandingly in one or two surgeries, extremely luckily got an invitation to high society, came here only to find no one truly respected doctors. They were just pleased to have found another handy tool."

"But it got better later, right?" Bucky said, "you became the Hand of God, able to pull them from Death's grasp at any moment. They all point to you."

Strange didn't answer; Steve shook his head first and said, "No, Bucky, high society isn't what you imagine. Class and bloodline notions are deeply ingrained in their minds—you could bring them immense benefits, and they'd still think it's what they deserve, because they're both noble and successful. They'd think they gave you a chance to display yourself, and without you, countless others would rush to serve them. So even surface respect might not last long—being able to give you a smile is already their generosity and mercy."

Bucky's eyebrows knotted together: "Looks like during our time apart, you've had other matters."

"Don't be like that, Bucky," Steve laughed, "as the only one among us who's never seen high society, you're lucky."

"I'm just saying, when you face these dangers, I actually couldn't be by your side."

"That's not right either," Steve denied, "when we first faced this kind of danger, we were still young, and I wasn't without complaining to you about Hampton's work being unpleasant. You forgot?"

Bucky fell into thought again. He had been brainwashed before, many past memories were jumbled, needing careful recollection to retrieve. But soon, he dug up some memory fragments.

Back then, after the Long Island Rail Road was completed, Long Island's development surged even further. Hampton transformed from a small fishing village into the most famous rich paradise on the entire East Coast.

Following that came a labor shortage. Resorts were built, buildings rose, even customers flocked in, yet there was still a severe lack of service staff.

At that time, all industries in New York were in a golden age. Not only was Wall Street mighty, but all kinds of small street vendors also lived prosperously. Ordinary middle-class folks didn't want to do service work, so Long Island's recruitment mainly targeted Brooklyn's poor districts. Those strong yet struggling youths, yearning for a decent job, were the ideal recruitment targets.

Without a doubt, Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers were among them. Both were typical Brooklyn working-class families, city poor kids, teenagers with nothing to do in their free time. Their personal conditions weren't outstanding, thresholds too high for jobs they couldn't get, so they also threw themselves into Long Island's golden wave, found a job in Hampton that was decent in all aspects.