novelSusiti Chapter 103 "Charity" and Reality
Chapter 103 "Charity" and Reality
"You...you want to use royal funds to acquire controlling stakes in those oligarchic shipping companies overseas?"
“It’s not about controlling stake,” Constantine corrected. “It’s about becoming their largest creditor and hidden shareholder without their knowledge.”
Sofia felt like she was having trouble breathing.
"You're insane! This is going against the entire Greek oligarchic class! They'll tear you apart!"
“They won’t,” Constantine said calmly. “Because by the time they realize it, I’ll already have the weapon to bankrupt them. The Workers’ Association is the finger that pulls the trigger. Their attention will be drawn to the more likely ‘labor-management conflicts’ rather than their endless wrangling with us in Parliament.”
Sofia was completely speechless.
She finally understood.
The welfare distribution in the port of Piraeus, the establishment of the workers' association, and this outrageous business plan in front of us...
Everything is part of a massive, interconnected plan.
He's not doing charity work, nor is he engaging in any kind of populism.
He is undermining the entire old Greek order!
Constantine looked at her pale face and softened his voice.
"Sophia, one day you will understand."
"The dignity of royalty is not a badge hanging on the wall, nor is it gold thread embroidered on clothes."
"But when disaster strikes, how many citizens are willing to use their own flesh and blood to shield you from the daggers that are thrust at you?"
"The dignity of royalty is not a badge hanging on the wall, nor is it gold thread embroidered on clothes."
"But when disaster strikes, how many citizens are willing to use their own flesh and blood to shield you from the daggers that are thrust at you?"
Sofia was stunned by these words and stood there speechless for a long time. She felt that her understanding of the man in front of her had been completely overturned.
Constantine, looking into Sophia's still puzzled eyes, suddenly asked a seemingly unrelated question. "Sophia, what do you think is the purpose of our charity work?"
Sofia was taken aback; she hadn't expected him to ask such a basic question in such a tense atmosphere. Almost instinctively, she replied, "Purpose? Of course, it's to help those less fortunate, to demonstrate the royal family's benevolence, and to fulfill our responsibilities."
This was everything she had learned from childhood, from her English grandmother to her German mother, and from all the court tutors. It was the duty of the nobility, one of the reasons for the existence of the monarchy.
"Well said." Constantine nodded. He didn't refute it, but instead walked to the most inconspicuous cabinet in the corner of the study.
The cabinet, made of heavy oak and topped with a brass lock, seemed out of place among the other exquisite pieces of furniture in the study. Constantine took a small key from his breast pocket, inserted it into the lock, and gave it a gentle turn.
"Click".
The lock is open.
He took a thick file out of the cabinet. The file was covered with dark black hard leather, without any text or badges, simply bound with two leather straps, exuding an ominous aura.
He took the file, walked back to his desk, and placed it in front of Sophia.
He didn't open it immediately, but instead gently tapped the rough leather cover with his fingers, producing a dull "knock, knock" sound.
"So, before you decide how to 'help' them, I hope you can first see what kind of 'misfortune' they are living in."
Constantine's tone was calm, yet it sent a chill down Sophia's spine.
She stared at the black dossier before her, as if it weren't a stack of documents but a Pandora's box. An instinctive resistance rose within her; her upbringing told her that some things were best left unseen. The royal family only needed to maintain elegance and benevolence; the details of those dark corners would naturally be handled by those below.
But Constantine's gaze was something she couldn't escape.
Sofia reached out, her fingertips touching the cold leather cord. She untied the knot and lifted the cover.
There is no preface, and no title.
The first page is a picture.
A sketch drawn with the roughest charcoal pencil.
In the painting, a girl, who looks no more than ten years old, is so thin that she is just skin and bones, with her dry, yellow hair hanging down like weeds. She is barefoot, standing on the cold, damp stone floor, struggling to curl up and crawl under a huge and menacing spinning machine, using her tiny fingers to clean the cotton lint tangled at the bottom of the machine.
The spinning machine occupied most of the image, like a steel behemoth, its gears and belts crisscrossing, poised to devour this fragile life at any moment. The girl's face was expressionless, devoid of a numbness beyond her years. Her eyes were large, yet empty and lifeless, as if they would never hold any light again.
In the corner of the painting, there is a line of small text: East of Athens, Coroneos Textile Factory, Child Laborers.
Sophia's fingers trembled uncontrollably when they touched the cold drawing paper.
She turned to the second page.
This page was no longer a drawing, but a dense mass of text and numbers—a secret investigation report from the Royal Tax Police. Every word on it felt like a cold stone, crashing into her heart.
"The Coroneos textile factory employs 832 workers. Among them, there are 517 adult female workers and 315 child laborers, the youngest of whom is only 7 years old."
Working hours: 5:00 AM to 9:00 PM daily, totaling 16 hours. Seven days a week, no holidays.
"Work meals: Two meals a day. The meals consist of blackened hard bread and diluted vegetable soup. If there is a machine malfunction or the production target is not met, one meal will be deducted."
"Accommodation: Thirty people share a room in a dormitory with no windows, damp floors, and bedding filled with moldy old cotton wadding. The air is filled with cotton dust and a foul stench all year round."
"Medical conditions: There are no medical facilities in the factory. If a worker is sick, it will be considered as absenteeism and three days' wages will be deducted. If the worker is unable to continue working, he/she will be dismissed immediately."
"Common ailments: Due to long-term inhalation of cotton lint and dust, more than half of the adult female workers suffer from severe lung diseases, with coughing and hemoptysis being common. Child laborers generally suffer from stunted growth and skeletal deformities due to malnutrition and overwork."
"Average lifespan: According to secret statistics, since the factory was established ten years ago, the average lifespan of female workers who entered the factory has not exceeded five years. Most of them die before the age of thirty."
……
Sophia's face grew paler and paler.
She could almost see through these cold words the dark, sunless factory buildings, hear the ceaseless roar of the machines, and smell the air thick with the stench of blood, sweat, and mildew.
That exquisite yet fragile greenhouse world, built upon noble etiquette and traditional teachings, is crumbling and shattering inch by inch.