Chapter 2 The Mayor's office

The next morning, Marcus discovered two things.

First, Hollow Crest was dying much faster than he thought.

Second, somebody was making sure it stayed that way.

He spent almost the entire day locked inside the mayor's office.

No visitors. No council meetings. No speeches.

Just dust-covered ledgers stacked across the desk, half-burnt reports tied together with twine, and enough unpaid invoices to make his head hurt.

Marcus leaned back in the wooden chair and rubbed his eyes. The motion felt unfamiliar. These hands still didn't feel like his own.

Edric Hale's fingers were rough with old cuts and burn scars. A laborer's hands. Not the hands of a man who used to spend fourteen hours a day clicking through spreadsheets and construction drafts.

The room smelled faintly of ink, coal ash, and damp wood.

Outside the narrow windows, snow drifted across the streets of Hollow Crest.

Inside, Marcus slowly realized how completely screwed he was.

The capital had denied emergency aid six times in the last two years.

Coal production had dropped by nearly half.

Three mines had collapsed.

The eastern furnace district exploded last winter.

And according to the latest food inventory, the town had enough grain left to survive maybe three weeks if rations were reduced.

Less if another storm hit.

Marcus stared at the final report for a long moment before laughing quietly to himself.

"No electricity. No heating worth a damn. No coffee," he muttered. "Amazing. I got reincarnated directly into a bankruptcy report."

The laugh died quickly.

Because underneath the latest aid rejection was another document.

REQUEST TO TRANSFER HOLLOW CREST MINING RIGHTS

Approved pending regional collapse.

Marcus frowned.

Regional collapse?

His eyes narrowed as he continued reading.

If Hollow Crest failed to maintain population requirements through winter, ownership of the mines would automatically transfer to Blackwater Ridge—the neighboring industrial town to the south.

The signature at the bottom belonged to Governor Valecourt.

Another signature sat beneath it.

Councilor Bren.

Marcus slowly leaned back in his chair.

"So that's the game," he murmured.

The capital wasn't trying to save Hollow Crest.

They were waiting for it to die.

A knock sounded at the door.

Before Marcus could answer, it opened carefully and Garrick stepped inside carrying a wooden tray.

The older man still wore the same gray coat from yesterday, though this time Marcus noticed the burn marks along the sleeves. Half his beard looked slightly singed too.

Breakfast consisted of watery soup, black bread, and something that looked dangerously close to raw fish.

Marcus stared at it.

"...Please tell me this is prison food."

Garrick blinked. "No, Mayor."

"That's somehow worse."

For the first time since meeting him, Garrick almost smiled.

Almost.

He placed the tray down carefully. "You should eat while it's hot."

Marcus picked up the spoon reluctantly.

The soup tasted like boiled saltwater and disappointment.

He forced himself to swallow anyway.

Honestly, after surviving instant noodles and vending machine sandwiches during overtime shifts back on Earth, maybe he shouldn't complain.

Still.

He missed coffee so much it physically hurt.

Garrick remained standing near the desk. Uneasy.

Marcus noticed it immediately.

"Say it."

The older man hesitated. "The council is unhappy about yesterday."

"That's not surprising."

"Councilor Bren wanted the girl exiled before sunrise."

Marcus dipped another piece of bread into the soup. "And yet she wasn't."

"They think you're losing control already."

Marcus snorted softly.

"Interesting choice of words from men trying to sell the town piece by piece."

Garrick's expression changed instantly.

Not shock.

Recognition.

Marcus saw it and knew he'd guessed correctly.

The silence stretched for several seconds.

Finally, Garrick pulled a folded report from inside his coat and placed it carefully on the desk.

"You should read that too."

Marcus opened it.

It was an inspection report from the furnace district.

Or rather... half a report.

Most of the pages were missing.

The remaining section described structural failures near Furnace Three shortly before the explosion that killed eleven workers last winter.

At the bottom, someone had scribbled a final note in rushed handwriting.

FOUND FOREIGN MATERIAL INSIDE PRESSURE CHAMBER.

REPORT SENT TO COUNCIL.

NO RESPONSE RECEIVED.

Marcus looked up immediately.

"Foreign material?"

Garrick nodded once.

"They found a metal piece inside the furnace after the explosion."

"What kind of metal?"

"Nobody knows."

That got Marcus's full attention.

"The furnaces here run on iron and coal, right?"

"Mostly."

"Then how does an unknown metal suddenly appear inside a sealed pressure chamber?"

Garrick lowered his voice.

"That's the problem."

Snow rattled softly against the windows.

For the first time since arriving in this world, Marcus felt something shift into place inside his head.

Not panic.

Focus.

The same cold concentration he'd get while standing inside half-finished construction sites trying to figure out why a structure was failing.

People lied.

Buildings didn't.

If the furnace exploded, there was a reason.

And if evidence vanished afterward—

Someone had buried it.

Marcus tapped the report slowly against the desk.

"Tell me something honestly," he said.

Garrick stayed silent.

"The girl yesterday. Lyra. Did she actually sabotage the furnace?"

The older man's jaw tightened.

After a long pause, he answered quietly.

"I don't think so."

Marcus leaned back.

"Then why accuse her?"

Another pause.

This one lasted longer.

Finally, Garrick stepped closer and lowered his voice almost to a whisper.

"Because dead workers are expensive."

Marcus frowned.

"But a mechanic causing an accident?" Garrick continued. "That's convenient. Especially when the council already needed someone to blame."

The room suddenly felt colder.

Marcus looked back down at the report in his hands.

Eleven dead workers.

Missing pages.

A mysterious metal fragment.

And a council waiting for the town to collapse so they could profit from its corpse.

Outside, Hollow Crest looked like a dying mining town buried beneath snow.

But underneath all that ice and coal

Something rotten was hiding there.

Marcus folded the report carefully.

"Where is Lyra being held?"

Garrick looked startled. "The old storage cells beneath the watch post."

Marcus stood up slowly and reached for his coat.

"What are you doing?"

Marcus glanced toward the snow-covered streets outside the window.

Then toward the council hall farther down the hill.

"If somebody's lying to me," he said calmly, "I'd rather hear the truth before they decide to bury that too."