Mystery: Mr. Witch and Ms. Hunter

Chapter 76 The End
Leaving the factory, Altaïr couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief.

I don't know how the photo will turn out... Artair muttered to himself as he walked briskly towards the cafe where Michael Joseph was waiting.

But there is no need for me to worry about those things. After all, these are things I cannot change.

Altaïr took a deep breath and calmed himself down.

Even if he saw a similar scene, he couldn't do anything. Loen, an industrial country, had a large part of its legislative power in the hands of these factory owners and nobles. Let's not talk about whether exposing similar things really had an impact on those factory owners. Even if Buffett was really affected and had to improve the workers' treatment, his factory would gradually lose its competitiveness due to the increase in related labor costs, and the workers would not have a good life.

Altaïr walked into the cafe silently and found Michael Joseph. At this time, a haggard-looking female worker was sitting in front of the reporter. When she saw Altaïr coming, she let out a short scream. Altaïr's outfit seemed to remind her of a factory security guard.

"Relax ma'am, this is my bodyguard."

Michael quickly tried to comfort her and gave Altaïr a reproachful look. Altaïr smiled bitterly and shook his head, then sat down next to Michael Joseph. At this moment, the female worker was also somewhat uneasy and seemed to want to leave quickly.

"Then let's end our interview today here. Thank you for your cooperation."

Mike bowed to the female worker very gentlemanly. She nodded vaguely and left quickly.

"We've taken the photos. Go back this afternoon and find a darkroom to develop the negatives." Artair took out his camera under the cover of the flowerpot and handed it to Mike covertly. "It's up to you which photos to release and which to keep. Tomorrow when Venata goes to work, I'll ask her to bring you the bill for tonight."

"Don't you go over there and order some Olmire red wine?"

Mike warned, only half jokingly.

"You know, I don't like drinking."

Altaïr replied in all seriousness. "How is the interview going on your end?"

"What else can I expect? It's nothing more than the expected situations - delayed wages, working more than 14 hours a day, and a terrible working environment. Even if I didn't come to interview, writing down the worst things I could think of would be pretty close."

Mike shook his head. "Every time I see the cautious yet expectant eyes of those female workers when they come to be interviewed, I feel that my conscience is condemning me, because I know that this is just a formality and their situation will never change."

Mike's tone was a little low, but he immediately pulled himself together and said to Altaïr, "Anyway, let's have lunch first. Compared to the last time I came to this restaurant, they have something called 'Golfry' on their menu. Altaïr, have you ever eaten this before?"

Altaïr's expression froze for a moment, and then his Adam's apple rolled up and down, as if he was organizing his words.

"What's wrong? Is this food unpalatable?" Mike said with a casual expression, "I even ordered one for you as well."

"If I have to say, this thing really doesn't taste good."

Altaïr nodded heavily. "Because this thing is not food, strictly speaking, but a potion."

"Medicine?" Mike asked in surprise.

"Yes, a potion for children."

Altaïr nodded. "Because most of the female workers in the East District don't have time to take care of their children, and because of long hours of labor, their breast milk secretion is insufficient, so there is this meal replacement potion for babies."

"Haha, I was wondering why the waiter looked at me in a strange way." Mike smiled awkwardly, "Then what is the main ingredient of this potion, milk?"

"No, this is a potion extracted from marijuana. The kingdom grows medical marijuana on a large scale in its bases on the southern continent, making it not even more expensive than milk. After giving a child a tube of this potion, the baby will be forced to sleep for six to eight hours, and will not wake up and cry even under the noise of the factory."

Altaïr rested one hand on the table, his face grim.

Mike opened his mouth and tried several times before he could make a sound.

"You, how did you know?"

Artair laughed at himself. "Because this thing contains marijuana. Even though the content is not high, it is enough to serve as a lower-level substitute for drugs. There are many gang members in the East District who run similar businesses in secret. I have had several unpleasant encounters with them."

"But it's a pity that if the drug addicts in the gangs continue to speculate like this, I'm afraid it won't be long before the children of the female workers can't even afford this."

At this time, the waiter came over with two tubes of toothpaste-like things and placed the two tubes of aluminum-wrapped medicine on the table. Altaïr unscrewed one tube and smelled it, then put it back.

"Oh, even this is starting to get shortchanged."

……

"It's really surprising. When did our 'instigator' become so sentimental?"

Just as Altaïr lowered his head in a daze, a familiar and charming female voice came from beside Michael Joseph. The tingling sensation that seemed to surge from his bones once again occupied Altaïr's senses, causing his blood flow to speed up uncontrollably and his breathing to become heavy.

Altair looked up suddenly, and Gagran suddenly and ostentatiously appeared in front of him. Michael Joseph beside him had already fallen asleep on the sofa. He was not the only one, but everyone in the cafe was in a state between half asleep and half awake.

"You still have the ability of nightmares?"

Altaïr asked casually.

"No, this is a kind of black magic of the 'witch' that can put people with diseases into a deep sleep."

Gagran changed the order of her crossed legs, and her smooth black stockings swayed in front of Altaïr's eyes, but Altaïr paid no attention to them.

"You spread disease around?" Altaïr asked with a sullen look. "You know, even a mild case of influenza could easily prevent many people here from seeing the New Year of 1354."

It is now the end of November, and there is still more than a month until Loen's traditional Gregorian New Year.

"Don't worry, those symptoms will disappear after this magic is over."

Gagran chuckled, "Besides, even if I don't show up, how many people can say that they will definitely survive this New Year?"

(End of this chapter)