Chapter 971: Upper-Class 6667

The greatest difference between humans and animals is that humans think.

But the most terrifying thing about humans is also their thinking.

Take employment and wages: if people didn’t think, and simply worked mechanically and numbly, then work would just be work—nothing remarkable.

But if a worker begins to think, won’t he feel dissatisfaction with his current condition?

It’s like a factory worker who, each day, produces goods that sell for twenty pala, while the boss earns ten pala from them but pays the worker only two.

Is that fair?

When you don’t think about it, it’s perfectly fair.

But once you do think about it, it’s unfair.

So the greatest strength of humans lies in thinking, yet their most terrifying trait is also thinking.

Sometimes thinking destroys social systems that, though unjust, at least function normally—thinking holds the power to destroy!

The bumpy vehicle finally stopped outside the library they had agreed upon.

Lans had originally planned to host them at the Lapah Grand Hotel, but changed the location.

Near the library were some cheap inns, and Lans had reserved rooms for them.

Along with the invitation, they were given the room keys.

These inn rooms cost only fifteen pala per night—very cheap.

It wasn’t that prices in Lapah were this low, but many Lapah people preferred sleeping on the street rather than paying for a hotel.

Most inns were half-empty, poorly decorated, offered no extra services, and even at low prices struggled to fill their rooms.

In contrast, the Lapah Grand Hotel was expensive by local standards, yet its business thrived, always filled with foreigners and local middle- and upper-class patrons.

Life is sometimes more absurd than the wildest scriptwriter’s tale!

With the help of the key tag, Pedro found his room.

Opening the door, he was hit by a stench of rot and mildew, but he said nothing, walked quietly to the window, opened it, and sat on the edge of the bed.

This was his first time attending such an event; he was nervous, yet he vaguely sensed it might be an opportunity.

He stayed in the room all day, bringing some bread from home.

The kind made from whole wheat flour, a little water, salt, slightly fermented, shaped into balls, and baked in an oven.

Not soft, a bit hard, but good at filling the stomach.

The night passed without incident.

The next morning, someone knocked on his door; he leapt up, walked to the door, and opened it.

Outside stood a foreigner—these Federals had very pale skin, clearly different from the slightly brown skin of native Lapah people.

“Mr. Lans is waiting for you at the library. We have a meeting this morning to introduce ourselves—please don’t be late.”

Pedro nodded repeatedly. “Of course, of course. I’ll get ready and come right away.”

Lapah people had no habit of brushing their teeth—mainly because toothbrushes were expensive, toothpaste was costly, and they couldn’t produce them themselves; all were imported.

Imported goods meant high prices; only the true middle class could afford them.

They used twigs, but rarely, so most Lapah people had yellow teeth.

He spent a long time cleaning his teeth in the bathroom; only when his breath carried no strong odor did he leave.

The library was just one street away; on the way, he saw several others, clearly dressed up, heading toward the library like him.

They must all have been invited by Mr. Lans to attend this… seminar.

Pedro nodded and greeted them; they responded warmly.

The National Library of Zolan had private reading rooms; Lans had rented these.

By ten a.m., the gentlemen had gathered inside, following staff instructions to find and take their seats.

At ten ten, Lans hurried in, slightly apologetic. “Sorry for being a little late.”

Naturally, no one criticized him for tardiness.

Lans sat down at his place, looked around, and said, “I apologize that I could only secure the National Library for this seminar. I originally intended to rent a conference room or hall at the Lapah Grand Hotel, and had even arranged your rooms there.”

“That would have made our seminar appear more formal, more vibrant.”

“But when I spoke with the hotel, they gave me a shocking and regrettable piece of information!”

Lans paused here, his gaze lingering briefly on their faces. “They said lower-class people are not allowed into the Lapah Grand Hotel.”

As he spoke, Lans lowered his head slightly, as if saddened by the news.

His words caused a brief stir in the room; most here were educated and could control their emotions well.

Pedro felt his chest tighten, like wearing a shirt too small, tightly wrapped around his body, making breathing difficult.

Then he couldn’t help but laugh and shake his head—not a joyful laugh, but a bitter one.

He had never been to the Lapah Grand Hotel; he had once longed to go, even imagined that someday, if he had the chance, he’d step inside.

But now, that small dream was shattered.

At the same time, a bloody reality was laid bare before everyone’s eyes.

Lans leaned forward, tapped his knuckles lightly on the table—not hard, but the sound pierced the heart.

“This is an ugly phenomenon.”

“I asked the hotel doorman and the lobby manager how they tell a Lapah person is upper-class or lower-class.”

“Who decides whether a person is upper-class or lower-class?”

“The law? Surname? Or something else?”

“They told me a very straightforward method—”

He looked around again, this time different from the previous two times.

Before, when he looked at them, they met his gaze; now, all lowered their heads.

“He said, judge by clothing.”

“He told me ordinary people can’t afford proper attire—suits, ties or bowties, polished shoes.”

“Ordinary people can’t afford them, or if they can, they won’t buy them—they can’t spend years or decades of income on one outfit instead of improving their family’s living conditions. So the method works.”

“I don’t mean to hurt your feelings or dignity; I discovered this issue and reflected on it.”

“Are ordinary people really lower-class?”

“If ordinary people are lower-class, who qualifies as upper-class?”

“Who decides who is upper-class and who is lower-class?”

“As a foreigner, a Federal, I shouldn’t say these things.”

“But I want to say them.”

“A nation that fails to protect its people’s most basic dignity, and divides them into upper-class and lower-class, must be sick.”

“When a person is sick, a doctor treats them. When a nation is sick, who will treat it?”

He left them with a question—one meant for them to think about.

Those chosen to attend the seminar all had some ideas; some lacked higher education, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t think or had no opinions.

“Alright, let’s end this topic.”

“Let’s focus on our seminar.”

“This seminar will last about five days to a week. To promote exchange between the Federation and the Yalan Alliance, we will record our discussions in both images and text.”

“I believe that after watching the footage and reading the materials, you’ll have many thoughts and viewpoints.”

“Lapah is a less developed region. You’ve lived here many years—what do you think is the biggest difference between Lapah and the Federation?”

“What caused such a vast gap between two neighboring nations and societies?”

“Even compared to the Jede Republic, there’s a huge difference.”

“As another Yalan Alliance member nation in the same region, what’s wrong with Lapah?”

“That is today’s topic.”

“Later, I will invite you to the Federation to observe its society. But now, let’s talk about the people and things here.”

A formal seminar, study, and discussion.

This was a question they had never seriously considered, though perhaps in fragmented moments, they’d once felt a fleeting urge to think about it.

What exactly is Lapah lacking compared to other nations?

Pedro wanted to ask: could this even count as cultural exchange research?

But he also wondered: perhaps this was the misunderstanding born from contact between two different societies—analyzing Lapah’s flaws might help the Federation understand it better?

He didn’t know. Others were thinking deeply, voicing their views; soon, he too was immersed in this atmosphere.

He told himself: this is just academic research.

As a teacher, who doesn’t long for academic research?

At noon, Lans had lunch delivered—delicious meals, even beef and pork!

Pedro had eaten bird, snake, wolf, even leopard meat, but never beef.

Because those animals could be hunted in the wild, but beef required raising livestock.

Anything raised by humans cost money; beef was expensive, and he couldn’t afford it.

He suddenly remembered a line from a film’s narration—

“A worker’s wage can cover his daily meat needs—a pound of ordinary fresh beef mince costs only a few cents.”

(End of chapter)