Empire of Shadows

Chapter 96 - Renting Land and the Duties of Friendship

Maintaining a city councilor with even marginal value costs about $60,000 a year. This was the figure William offered Lance as a reasonable estimate.

“I don’t know how much you’re earning annually, but it’s clear that this is still far off for you,” William remarked.

“You should focus on stabilizing your current work and broadening your horizons. When you’re wealthier, you won’t need to invest in councilors—they’ll come looking for you instead.”

William lowered his voice slightly. “Jingang City’s ten councilors all have ties to the Kodak Family, but none of them were directly pushed into office by Kodak. Do you understand what I mean?”

Lance nodded. “I understand.”

Still, understanding didn’t stop him from being direct. “William, I’m speaking hypothetically. If we decided to work toward making you one of them, do you think it’s possible?”

The café, located just across from City Hall, wasn’t low-class. Each coffee came with two biscuits, dotted with chocolate chips—not soft chocolate or syrup but firm enough to provide a satisfying crunch. The sweetness paired well with the coffee’s bitterness.

William popped a biscuit into his mouth. “If I were to run, the Federation Party would likely support me—as long as I didn’t need their funding.”

He clapped his hands and leaned back in his chair. “Winning would be a pleasant surprise for them. Losing wouldn’t be a regret or a loss. But are you seriously considering this?”

To be honest, the thought tempted him. Being a “servant” in city hall wasn’t nearly as appealing as becoming a city councilor with influence. As a middle-aged Federation man, he still wanted to make a mark.

Seeing Lance’s resolute gaze, William felt a surge of motivation. “The party would back me. Several Federation-backed capitalists in Jingang City would also lend support.

“But they won’t be pivotal. You know this is Socialist territory. At most, they’d cut me a $200 check, not openly endorse me.”

“We’d need to carefully choose a district with minimal competition and a higher chance of winning.” He paused, narrowing his eyes. “Are you really serious?”

Lance pulled a cigar from his pocket and tossed it to William. “Do I look like I’m joking?”

“Tell me, if I wanted to help you become a councilor, what would I need to do?”

William inspected the cigar thoughtfully. “Money, votes, and publicity.”

Lance committed these three words to memory, then stood up. “I need to visit the Land Management Bureau. I’ll contact you once I’m ready.”

Watching Lance’s confident departure, William’s composed demeanor wavered slightly.

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The Land Management Bureau was just a five-minute walk from city hall. After stating his purpose in the lobby, Lance was escorted to an office where a middle-aged man greeted him.

What stood out most about the man was his shiny bald head, gleaming under the office lights.

“Mr. Lance, all available plots are listed here.”

He spread out a map, revealing a detailed layout of Jingang City marked with various zones—residential, commercial, docks, ports, public utilities, and more. The city seemed stylishly organized, divided into tidy, color-coded shapes.

The man guided Lance’s attention to the industrial zone in the city’s western area. “This section has pre-developed land with hardened surfaces, basic factory buildings, and accompanying warehouses. If you set up your factory here, you’ll only need to pay rent.”

“This section, however, is undeveloped land. If you wish to purchase it, you’ll first need to pay the listed price to the city hall.”

“Additionally, your factory must comply with Jingang City’s industrial management regulations,” he added. This primarily referred to fulfilling basic social responsibilities, such as employing workers.

“I heard you’re planning to open a clothing factory?” The bald man appeared quite talkative, striking up conversation as Lance studied the map.

Lance handed him a cigarette. “Any good suggestions?”

Land prices varied widely. Some plots cost as little as $20 per acre, while others reached nearly $400 for the same area. The disparity was significant.

Lance, unfamiliar with the specifics, hoped the bald man could provide some guidance.

Lighting the cigarette, the man said, “If you’re not planning a large factory for thousands of workers, my suggestion is to rent our pre-developed industrial plots designed for small businesses.”

“Here, for example,” he pointed, “you’ll pay only $0.10 to $0.20 per square foot in monthly rent. That includes access to all basic facilities, plus a complimentary 100-square-foot warehouse.”

“As long as your factory’s area doesn’t exceed 2,000 square feet, renting is the best option.”

Two thousand square feet might not sound like much, but with two square feet per job, it could create 500 positions.

If the factory space was used for storage too, it could easily provide 800 jobs—all for just a few hundred dollars a month.

“If you want to buy land and build, these $200-per-acre plots are a good choice. They’re reasonably close to main roads and included in mid-term city development plans. The Planning Bureau has already laid out basic road designs—you’d only need to follow the construction plans.”

“For these plots, groundwork is simpler, with no large stones. Any construction company could prepare the site in a month.”

He continued, explaining how raw land could be transformed into a factory site. Many challenges arose, like road construction. Buying land didn’t grant automatic access to build a road connecting the factory to main arteries.

Depending on city plans, additional approvals might be required, or alternate routes might need to be constructed.

Then there were utility issues—water pipes, power lines. Pre-developed areas included these services for free. But undeveloped plots often required upfront investment, which might or might not be reimbursed later.

The bald man warned that utilities companies often underpaid for such reimbursements.

Cheaper land meant higher costs and longer timelines for development. For large enterprises with vast resources, this wasn’t a concern—they’d buy thousands of acres, no matter how remote.

For small or startup businesses, however, the bald man strongly recommended renting pre-developed plots.

Lance extended his hand. “Your advice is invaluable to me. Let’s formally introduce ourselves. I’m Lance. Lance White.”

The bald man quickly stubbed out his cigarette and eagerly shook Lance’s hand. “John Brown.”

When Lance slipped a $5 bill into his palm, John’s grin grew so wide it seemed to stretch off his face.

Flattered, John became even more enthusiastic, pointing out suitable locations on the map.

“Your suggestion is incredibly helpful,” Lance said. “If I rent a 1,000-square-foot factory with room for future expansion, where should I start?”

John marked a few plots on the map. “This spot is ideal. It’s not far from the main road, close to public warehouses, and convenient overall. It’s just a ten-minute walk from the bus station.”

“Expansion would be easy here, though the rent is a bit higher—$0.18 per square foot. Monthly costs, including other fees, would be around $220.”

Lance decided quickly. “This one, then. What’s next?”

John filled out a form for him. “Take this to the Commercial Services Bureau…”

Lance groaned inwardly. He hadn’t expected so many bureaucratic steps. “This is my first time. It’s a bit complicated. Is there a service that handles this for me?”

John chuckled. “Yes, usually intermediary agencies take care of it. Hardly anyone does it themselves.”

“I don’t have time to find one now. Listen, John, I think we’re going to be good friends. Could you help me with this?”

John hesitated. “But I have work to do.”

Lance shut the office door and pulled out a $10 bill. “For coffee.”

John stared at the money, unable to look away. After a long pause, he smiled and shrugged. “I’m just doing my duty as a friend!”

Lance grinned back. “Exactly. Who could fault you for that?”

John soon requested leave—a perk of being a civil servant. With a reasonable excuse, superiors were usually accommodating. His excuse? A stomachache. Two hours off.

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