The heavy rains lasted for many hours as a truly enormous amount of precipitation descended upon the entirety of the city. Thunder roared violently as lightning lit up the skies with its brilliant brightness. The water levels in the slums had risen greatly, making the paths non-traversable, while the insecure roofs of the huts and shacks in which people resided failed to stop the water that leaked in.
Dlint, on the other hand, has fallen asleep within the haven unit, tucked within a blanket as his exhaustion got the better of him, completely knocking him out despite the louder noise of rain and thunder.
Not even the infrequent collapsing of buildings could wake him up.
The residents of the slums gritted their teeth as they weathered the storms, literally, positioning themselves in the least dangerous place in their buildings while also preventing themselves and their meager belongings from the trickle of water entering their little huts.
Each year, the monsoons made living even difficult for the residents of the slums, yet they persevered through the immense rains that thoroughly made their already difficult lives even more difficult than they were.
They huddled together, wrapping themselves in as many layers of clothes as they possibly could. The slums tended to have a much higher fertility rate compared to that of the cities, which meant that virtually every household had children that the adults felt burdened to take care of.
Hours passed as the residents held out under the tumultuous rains and tempestuous winds that bombarded the entire city, until finally the storm began subsiding. The intensity of the rains lowered as the winds grew calmer.
The water seeped into the ground faster than the rain filled it, allowing it to slowly, but surely, reduce its water levels. The dark sheet of clouds that covered the skies finally dispersed, unveiling the bright blue sky and even the warm light of the Sun.
The ominous air looming with the signs of an impending storm was long gone, replaced by one of relief as the people of the slums finally exited their little huts and homes. Their patched, scrappy clothes were notably wet.
Not a single one of them had managed to come out untouched by the rain, while most of them were soaking due to the water entering their little huts and shacks. The children jumped into the streams of water, squealing with joy and excitement, while the men and women of the slums simply couldn't bring themselves to share the same positivity, even if they were relieved that the storm had finally passed.
STEP
They directed a gaze in the direction of Drint, who descended down from the little hillock he had perched himself upon, walking with a purposeful gait while he walked past the streams of water running down the paths of the slums.
Their eyes lit up with surprise even as they steered clear from him while eying him from the corner of their eyes.
He was entirely dry.
Not even the slightest bit of water could be spotted on any of his clothes or skin as he trudged past them with the haven unit fully on display behind him.
They eyed the strange micro-house with peculiar eyes of curiosity.
What caught their eyes was the prominent price tag on the side of the housing unit.
[999—/]
Cæ had decided to bite the bullet and lose one leenar, reducing their profit margins even further in order to fall into a common psychological marketing trick that was used everywhere in marketing.
Even though the monetary difference between 999 and 1000 was negligible, research had demonstrated and proven that the latter was a significantly more compelling price tag than the former and led to more sales.
Tapping into this psychological trick was especially worth it when dealing with the people of the slums, who were extremely judicious with their spending and fastidious when it came to price tags.
Many people directed a strange gaze at the intricate workmanship of the classy blue-white micro-housing unit as they stared at the prominent price tag that glistened, drawing their attention to it.
Their gaze shifted back to Dlint, directing a once-over at him.
Patched, dusty, and scrappy clothes with a scarred body. His eyes were sharpened with seriousness, while his expression was hardened, and his body language was guarded and wary. His gait was firm and hastened; he walked with purpose and direction.
They instantly and correctly recognized him as a resident of the slums.
This was not someone born into a lot of money, by the standards of the people in the slums, at least, brought up in the comforts and luxuries of the slums. And yet, he walked around with a fancy product that looked like it didn't belong in the slums at all. Just the fact that it had what appeared to be a pretty paint job made it seem like it didn't belong in the slums.
And yet, the price tag and the person holding it indicated that it did.
Dlint simply dragged the haven unit with a guarded expression as he walked around much of the district with a purposeful gait.
In reality, he was going nowhere.
This was just the part of the protocols that he had to follow for a more close-up exposure of the product.
This was also one of the more dangerous parts of the showcase.
The slums weren't just a place where one could waltz around with such a showy product, attracting so much attention without any consequences.
"Well, well, well, if it ain't the gramps living in the box."
STEP
Dlint paused as he arrived before three young men, two of whom flicked around knives in their hands smoothly. Their clothes were lanky and baggy, drooping from their body as masks hung down from their necks. They had common tattoos of certain symbols, some that Dlint recognized and others he didn't.
The third man, standing front and center, had his hand buried in his pockets, balled around a certain object. His sharp blue eyes were filled with contempt, and a grin of derision emerged on his face, creasing away at his fair skin.
Dlint's expression hardened.
"That's a fancy lil box you got there, pops," the young man at the center remarked with a greasy tone as he sneered at Dlint. "It's another thing to live inside it, though."
Dlint's steely eyes fixated on them with a fiery light as his hand tightened around his magigun.
"Still, it looks quite heavy," the man grinned as he swept his blond hair back. "Why don't I take that off your hands?"
His tone was laced with malice.
Dlint's fierce eyes sharpened.
The air grew perilous as Dlint's gaze shifted to the right. "Did you get that, officer?"
The three young men turned to the right with a startle, only to find nothing.
They remembered a moment too late that there were no police in the slums.
BANG BANG BANG!
The young men scattered as Dlint fired his magigun, shooting them before they could get entirely out of the way.
SPLAT SPLAT SPLAT!
"Rgh…!" the young man at the center gritted his teeth as he put pressure on his wound, limping away with a desperate stagger as they escaped as fast as they could.
Dlint grunted as he put his magigun away.
It wasn't that he spared them out of some sense of mercy; he wasn't that kind. However, he didn't want to run out of shots while he was in the slums, which made him feel particularly unsafe when he was still supposed to draw attention while in the slums.
He heaved a sigh of relief when he gazed at his magigun.
It was a weapon that relied on enchantments to trigger a powerful explosion, propelling projectiles at extremely high speeds to injure or even kill the target. It was a powerful force equalizer, and that was one of the reasons that Dlint was willing to take on the mission at all.
He spent the rest of the day continuing about his mission, tugging the haven unit about as much of the district as he possibly could.
The same thing happened in all forty-eight districts surrounding the inner city. In all forty-eight districts, the hired 'agents' of the advertisement team went through a similar playbook as they ensured as much exposure to the haven unit throughout the entirety of the slums.
Each of them placed the haven units in prominent places before engaging in the same 'show-don't-tell' strategy. The information that the observant residents of the slums inferred for themselves from their observation was vastly more compelling and convincing than anything that Dlint or his subordinate agents could have possibly told them.
That was all part of the plan.
"What isn't part of the plan, however…" Feidin insisted with a frown, "Is the fact that nearly seventy percent of our advertising team got into conflicts of varying degrees. I knew it wasn't the safest of jobs, but this is truly unbelievable. Roughhousing, knives, and even magiguns like in the case of Dlint's case."
He readjusted his glasses, scratching his curly hair as a pencil rested on his ears while he skimmed through a tabulated data of the various advertisement reports that he had gotten from each of the forty-eight advertising agents that had been deployed into the slums.
"It's the slums," Cæ remarked from the other side of the table in their little office on the second floor as he skimmed through the same reports. "It was bound to happen. After all, we're asking to violate the number one rule of the slums, which is not to stand out."
STEP
Seliphaz stopped in front of the two men with folded arms and an anxious expression. "I-I hope they'll all be ok… I don't want any of them getting hurt."
A thick purple sweater kept her warm atop a simple blue t-shirt that matched her short hair, while long leggings stretched down to her very ankles underneath her shorts, covering every inch of her skin, for she couldn't tolerate the stinging cold of the monsoons.
Cæ stirred as he sipped some of his hot cochil beverage. "They'll be fine, don't worry too much about it."
Seliphaz knitted her eyebrows with indignance. "That feels callous, aren't you concerned about what will happen to them in the slums?"
Cæ heaved a sigh. "I'm not. Not because I don't care, but because I know that they can handle themselves. There are ways to handle conflicts without them turning for the worse, and it is a life skill in the slums. They're all armed and know how to use it for deterrence and when to actually use it. I would be worried if the two of you were in the slums since you have no idea how to comport yourselves, but the same isn't true for them."
Cæ himself had partially entered the category as the two of them, having lived in the inner city to unlearn certain crucial habits and states of mind that were part of his toolkit to navigate the slums, but the agents of the advertisement team were still quite different.
Feidin heaved a sigh, shifting his glasses. "I hope the ad campaign is done soon, Cæ. We can't afford to pay forty-eight wages the rates that we do."
Cæ nodded with a knowing expression. "These are one-time work contracts. Once our product gets sales, it will function as a natural advertisement for all the people in the slums. We can downsize our advertisement efforts then."
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