Empire of Shadows

Chapter 40: A Spark to Ignite

 From the barely open door came stifled breaths, an oppressive sound that made the apprentice’s fingernails dig deep into his palms, drawing blood that seeped from the cuts.  

The dark gap in the doorway seemed to hold everything he loathed. He despised it, wanted nothing more than to storm in and plant his fists on that fat face, but cowardice held him back. All he could do was seethe in silence, letting his hatred fester.  

Sometimes, he wondered what was wrong with the world—why did every misfortune seem to fall on him?  

His parents had divorced long ago. The man he once idolized as a role model had left Jingang City with a woman nearly a decade younger. The court granted custody to his mother, as he was still a minor and his father explicitly refused to take responsibility.  

After a brief consultation with a lawyer, his father had washed his hands of him, leaving him to live with his mother.  

Life was far from easy. With more and more illegal immigrants arriving, jobs were scarce, wages low. Everyone touted Jingang City as a beacon of economic success, but as a native, all he felt was crushing competition.  

Six months ago, his mother decided he needed to learn a trade. Having just graduated high school, he went through "research" to determine that Johnny’s bakery was the most successful business nearby.  

Earning one or two hundred dollars a month from such work would be astronomical for a single-parent family like his.  

So, he was sent there. Over six months, most of his mother’s meager income had gone to his training, but he’d learned nothing—no dough-making, no bread preparation, no techniques to make bread tasty, and certainly nothing about crafting high-quality pastries. Instead, he worked long hours for free and still had to pay Johnny ten dollars a month for the "privilege."  

He hated everything about the place—the bakery, Johnny, and even himself.  

And now, he had to add his mother to that list.  

To save money, she was in the back room with Johnny. He knew exactly what was happening and was powerless to stop it.  

A few minutes later, she emerged, adjusting her disheveled blouse. She caught the fierce look in her son’s eyes, and her expression shifted slightly.  

Without speaking, she gave him a small nod and prepared to leave. But the apprentice followed her.  

"Why?" he asked.  

In the alley behind the bakery, she stopped, turned to face him, and replied, "Because Johnny is the best baker around. If you learn from him, you’ll at least have a way to survive. This was your decision."  

He didn’t understand. He asked again, "Why?"  

"Why did you... do that?"  

Her face remained calm. "Because we’re out of money."  

The apprentice fell silent. His mother, undeterred by his quiet rage, continued. "You don’t have many options left. Either leave here, find a job, and take care of yourself..."  

She hesitated, then added, "Or stay. Johnny promised me he’d keep you on for at least three more months."  

He wanted to say something, but no words came. He had drained their savings, and now she had made sacrifices to keep him there.  

Leaving wasn’t a simple matter anymore. On the surface, it seemed he had a choice, but in reality, there was none.  

He didn’t know what "sunk cost" meant, but he understood that leaving now would render all their sacrifices meaningless.  

Seeing her son’s continued silence, and recalling the repressed anger in his eyes earlier, the woman’s expression softened.  

"You’re grown up now. There’s something I haven’t told you—I’m planning to leave this place."  

He looked up abruptly. "You... when are we leaving?"  

She shook her head. "Not we—just me. I’ve met someone while working. He’s a tourist from out of town. He wants me to go with him, and I’ve agreed."  

"So... you don’t have much time left."  

She turned and left after saying this, believing it to be the best choice. She had sacrificed enough—time, youth, money, even her dignity—for her son. Now it was time to live for herself.  

The apprentice stood there, speechless, as her figure disappeared into the alley. His father first, and now her.  

That night, he worked mechanically, scrubbing the bakery’s floors twice before collapsing into bed, exhausted. His mind churned with thoughts of how to change his circumstances, of how to learn Johnny’s baking secrets.  

He had always believed he’d eventually learn them, but now he realized how naïve he had been.  

Half-asleep, a thought struck him: If Johnny couldn’t bake, then maybe he could take over. Perhaps that was how he could learn the recipes and techniques.  

In his dreams, Johnny was injured, rendered unable to bake. Left with no choice, he entrusted the task to the apprentice, who quickly mastered the craft. Soon, he opened his own bakery, offering cheaper, better bread. Johnny and his despicable daughter were left destitute.  

The apprentice woke the next morning staring at the cracked ceiling. It had been just a dream, but the idea lingered.  

It was Thursday, and business was picking up. Thursdays were the days Johnny personally baked.  

After finishing his morning chores, the apprentice waited in the back kitchen for Johnny, who arrived shortly and began preparing ingredients.  

Johnny turned to him with a sneer. "What are you still doing here?"  

In his dreams, the apprentice had struck Johnny with all his might. In reality, he cowered. "I... I thought I might help you."  

Johnny laughed derisively. "Trying to steal my techniques?"  

"Get out, you little brat. Just because your mom gave me a blowjob doesn’t mean I’m teaching you anything."  

"People offer me five hundred bucks for my secrets, and your mom’s worth maybe five dollars!"  

"Now get out of this room before I lose my temper. And close the door behind you!"  

The apprentice clenched his fists, but Johnny wasn’t worried. He knew he had the upper hand over the boy and his mother.  

"You thinking about hitting me?" Johnny slapped the boy’s head with a flour-covered hand. "Pack your stuff and leave, or get back to stoking the boiler!"  

The apprentice reluctantly released his fists. "Yes, Boss," he muttered. It was yet another humiliation—Johnny insisted on being called "Boss."  

Leaving the kitchen, the apprentice’s hatred only deepened.  

By afternoon, Johnny’s "work time" had ended. He had prepared the dough for high-end pastries and breads, leaving the apprentice to handle the simpler tasks like baking.  

With a few hours of freedom, the apprentice remembered the dream that had haunted him.  

Changing into clean clothes, he left the bakery.  

Being a local had its advantages—he had friends. Though work consumed most of his time, he occasionally caught up with them. Recently, he’d heard tales of locals vandalizing immigrant-owned stores, looting valuable goods.  

At the time, he had dismissed it as idle chatter. But now, he saw an opportunity.  

In the evening, Johnny stepped out of the back kitchen, his sweaty torso covered in thick body hair, resembling a bear.  

"Keep an eye on the proofing racks," he barked. "Once the dough’s ready, put it in the oven. Screw it up, and you’ll pay the price!"  

He added with a lecherous grin, "Your mom may look plain, but she’s got some real skills!"  

Johnny enjoyed seeing the apprentice’s impotent rage, but tonight, the boy showed no emotion.  

This lack of reaction bored Johnny, who returned to his room to rest. Exhausted from the day’s work, he needed a nap.  

Business was booming despite the city’s lingering chaos. Customers lingered in the bakery, chatting over coffee and bread.  

Later, Johnny sat at the dining table, greasy fingers counting the day’s earnings while gnawing on fried chicken.  

As the apprentice mopped the floor, he quietly unlatched the front door.  

In the shadows, his eyes gleamed with a mix of hatred and satisfaction.  

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