I Became a Plutocrat in World War I: Starting with Saving France
Chapter 160 Celebrating Triumph

Chapter 160: Chapter 160 Celebrating Triumph

The continuous drizzle kept falling, making Davaz Town less quiet than usual. People were busy on the town’s streets, holding umbrellas and wearing raincoats.

Today was Shire’s day off, and they wanted to prepare for the welcoming ceremony more than half an hour ahead.

This was the idea of the mayor. He thought Paris had organized welcoming ceremonies for Shire time and again, and Davaz Town, as Shire’s hometown, should hold an even bigger... although a bigger one seemed unrealistic, at least it could be more grand and enthusiastic.

However, before they could get ready, Shire’s car suddenly arrived unexpectedly.

This caused chaos on the spot, as neighbors frantically cheered, the person responsible for scattering petals on the roof hadn’t climbed up yet, and several tables were knocked over by the chasing crowd.

But the crowd still surged forward trying to present flowers to Shire, with guards hastily blocking both sides.

"What are they doing?" Shire asked in confusion, while responding with a wave from his car.

"They are celebrating your triumph, Lieutenant!" Lauren said, "But you arrived half an hour earlier than usual today, which messed up their plans!"

Shire felt somewhat helpless.

He intentionally set off half an hour earlier and snuck out through the back door of the command post; otherwise, he would have been surrounded by the crowd and journalists, and the car he rode in would have been filled with flowers.

The car stopped at his doorstep, where more guards were stationed—a whole patrol team was deployed to maintain order, but still couldn’t contain the enthusiasm of the people, who nearly went crazy shouting and cheering for Shire.

Dejoka and Camille stood at the door with a look of helplessness in their eyes, indicating they didn’t need this.

When Shire got out of the car, he saw Teddy and other classmates, both male and female. They must have all arrived, waving flowers in their hands with blazing eyes.

This was specially arranged by the mayor. He gathered Shire’s classmates at the doorstep, thinking it might grab Shire’s attention.

The mayor succeeded. Shire had to respond to the classmates’ enthusiasm, stepping forward to shake hands and thank them individually, receiving flowers one after another until he couldn’t hold them anymore, having to hand some over to Lauren first.

Flowers kept being handed to Shire, along with classmates’ blessings:

"Congratulations, Shire, you are amazing!"

"You severely punished those invaders!"

"You are our role model, Shire!"

...

Some classmates even waved their induction orders at Shire: "Shire, I’ll report the day after tomorrow. I want to become a hero like you!"

Shire responded with a smile, but his heart was filled with pity.

His name was Michael, a year older than Shire, now at the age of conscription. He was one of the top students in the class. Now he had to carry a gun to the battlefield, and the scariest part was fantasizing about becoming a hero like Shire...

One day, when they fall cold on the battlefield clutching their wounds while comrades step over them attacking enemy positions, the only companions left with them would be pain, despair, and the descending rain, getting colder and colder, consciousness gradually fading... Then, without a doubt, they would hate the hope that Shire once gave them.

Suddenly, a strong hand grabbed Shire. From behind the flowers emerged a face of an adult, stubbled, anxiously saying to Shire, "I need to talk to you, Shire. My name is Kobudo..."

Shire was startled and tried to withdraw his hand, but it was held tightly.

"I mean no harm, I have an idea!" He spoke faster, eyes pleading. "It will only take a few minutes, please..."

Lauren recognized him as a reporter from the "Morning Paper" and immediately instructed the guards to take him away.

Shire sighed inwardly. Now reporters have to put in such efforts?

But Shire didn’t take it to heart. He waved goodbye to the remaining classmates hurriedly finishing the socializing, turned, and walked into the house amidst the envious looks and cheers of the classmates.

...

At the dinner table, Dejoka glanced out the window at the neighbors who were slow to disperse, shaking his head saying, "I feel we have become celebrities too!"

"Indeed!" Camille said, bringing the apple pie to the table and complaining, "All day long, reporters keep asking questions, they even want to know what color Shire likes and what fruit he eats!"

However, Shire saw a proud smile on her face.

Dejoka raised his eyebrows and whispered as Camille returned to the kitchen, "Actually, your mother likes to talk about your childhood, she can talk for hours and scare the reporters away!"

Shire paused his actions, looking at Dejoka in horror.

Dejoka knew what Shire was worried about and comforted him, "Don’t worry, she didn’t tell them you wet your bed at twelve!"

Shire felt a bit embarrassed; somehow, this matter had spread to the school and once became a joke among classmates. They couldn’t reveal it to the reporters, right? As a public figure, Shire experienced the distress of having no privacy.

Dejoka timely shifted the topic: "So, we still have informants in our factory?"

Dejoka learned about the battle at Lafox from the newspaper. If Shire had taken great pains to deceive everyone and then used "everyone" to deceive the Germans, it meant there were no secrets anywhere, including the factory.

"Yes!" Shire nodded lightly, forked a piece of apple pie, stuffed it into his mouth, chewed a few bites hastily, and swallowed eagerly, then grabbed the cup for a sip of milk.

He hadn’t had time to drink water since the morning and felt both thirsty and hungry. Suddenly, he found Camille’s cooking quite good.

Dejoka frowned. "We’ve hired too many workers from Francis’s factory. It’s normal that he has bought a few of them. The problem is..."

Dejoka shook his head embarrassedly. "Without concrete evidence, I can’t do anything to them."

Shire nodded, indicating he understood.

If Dejoka fired them casually or interrogated workers like criminals, it would undoubtedly affect morale and cause worker dissatisfaction, leading to strikes or even pushing workers toward Francis’s factory.

"So, how do we find those people?" Dejoka asked.

"We don’t need to find them." Shire replied with a mouthful of food, his words unclear: "We just need to isolate the train station and let them send more carriages over!"

Dejoka responded with an "Oh", understanding.

As long as no one, including transport workers, knew what was being transported, it doesn’t matter if the informants were found.

The method was what Shire said: "Let them send more carriages over."

When the goods were produced, they were sealed in carriages and, when the train arrived, the carriages were temporarily attached from the warehouse... except for those directly managing the carriages, no one else would know what was being loaded onto the train.

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