Before Rex could reach the warehouse gate, two guards stopped him.
“Sir, outsiders are not allowed to enter casually.”
The guard raised his hand in a stop gesture, his expression businesslike.
Rex didn’t say a word.
He silently pulled out the gilded ID badge from his chest and handed it over.
The guard took it, glanced at it, then turned it over twice to confirm the Chamber of Commerce’s unique stamp and signature were authentic.
Then he returned the badge to Rex with both hands.
“Our sincere apologies, Mr. Leonardo! We didn’t know it was you!”
“It’s fine.”
Rex put the badge back in his pocket.
“Diligence is a good thing. I’ll put in a good word with the President.”
The two guards stepped aside in unison and bowed respectfully.
Rex walked into the warehouse.
It was called a warehouse, but it was more like a never-stopping factory.
Looking around, rows of stone storehouses stood neatly arranged, with wide roads crisscrossing between them.
Carts came and went, dockworkers carrying crates shuttled among them.
The sounds of crates colliding mixed together, noisy yet orderly.
Rex stood at the entrance for a few seconds, then walked along the main road deeper in.
The office building was in the center of the warehouse district—a three-story stone building with its exterior painted the same gray as the storehouses.
Rex pushed the door open.
In the first-floor lobby, clerks were busy processing documents.
Hearing the door, they looked up and were all startled to see the masked stranger.
Rex ignored them and went directly to the second floor.
Li Ya had said Herman’s office was at the end of the hallway.
The door was open at the moment.
Rex stood at the doorway and saw a man in his forties facing away from the door, standing on tiptoe to reach a ledger on the highest shelf.
He was short and slightly plump, with a dense ring of keys hanging from his lower back.
“Mr. Brent?”
The man turned around.
He had a round face with thick stubble, just as Li Ya had described—easy to recognize.
His eyes were small but bright, and he looked at people with a cautious, appraising gaze.
Seeing the masked man at the door, Herman’s hand stopped mid-air, and the ledger nearly fell and hit him in the face.
“You are…”
His gaze fell on the copper badge pinned to Rex’s chest.
“Special Advisor?”
He put down the ledger, wiped his hands on his pants, and walked over quickly.
“Hello, hello! I’m Herman Brent, the warehouse supervisor.”
He extended his hand proactively, his smile very warm.
Rex shook his hand.
“Rex Leonardo. I just arrived recently, came to have a look and get familiar with the operations.”
“Oh! You’re the advisor Mr. President Li invited!”
Herman slapped his forehead, and his smile became more natural.
“My apologies, the President mentioned it a few days ago, but I got busy and forgot. Please don’t mind.”
“Not at all.”
“Then… shall I show you around?”
Herman stepped aside from the door and made a welcoming gesture.
“There’s a lot going on in the warehouse, and the staff are diverse. It’s easy to get lost on your first visit.”
“Thank you for your trouble.”
The two walked out of the office building one after the other.
He introduced things as they walked, speaking at a moderate pace with clear logic—obviously someone used to this kind of work.
“This is Area A, storing various ores. The Federation’s mines send two shipments every month, which are transferred through the warehouse and then sent to the workshops in the south.”
He pointed to the storehouse on the left.
“Over there is Area B, mainly magical materials and alchemical ingredients. These things are very precious; temperature and humidity need to be monitored constantly. The storehouse is even specially equipped with a magic array for protection.”
“You really have quite a lot of things here.”
“You bet.”
Herman’s tone carried a hint of pride.
“Granchester Chamber of Commerce’s warehouse is second to none in the entire Federation, no, the entire continent. Anything you can think of, we have here, and maybe even things you can’t think of.”
“What about grain?”
“Over in Area C. Wheat, rye, oats, corn, and so on. Also spices and tea from the East. A batch just arrived recently, the tea fragrance is rich, but the price is even higher than grain…”
As the two passed Area D, Rex noticed a few carts stopped at the storehouse entrance, but the crates on the carts had no labels.
The dockworkers handled them with care, their movements much more cautious than elsewhere.
“What’s over there?”
Rex asked casually.
Herman’s steps paused for a moment, then quickly returned to normal.
“Oh, that’s Area D. It stores some… uh… ordinary goods. Silk fabrics, daily necessities, and the like. Not worth much, so this area gets less attention.”
He smiled, his tone light.
“The President puts the valuable things in the warehouses of the front areas. These back areas are just common stuff.”
Rex nodded and didn’t ask further.
But he mentally noted the location of Area D.
Fabric and daily necessities weren’t worth being unloaded with such abnormally careful methods.
The two continued walking.
Herman’s introduction remained smooth—from storage categories in each area to daily throughput volume, from transport routes to downstream clients, he spoke with authority.
He could even name what was inside a sealed crate with his eyes closed.
“Have you been in this line of work for a long time?” Rex asked.
“Over twenty years.”
Herman’s tone carried a hint of emotion.
“I started out carrying bags at the dock, then was transferred to warehouse bookkeeping, and gradually moved up. I know every single brick in this warehouse.”
After finishing the tour, they returned to the office building.
Herman led Rex into his office.
“Please, have a seat. Let me make you a cup of tea. My place is a mess, don’t mind it.”
Rex glanced around the office.
The space wasn’t small, but it was packed with all sorts of things.
Ledgers and lists were piled on shelves, unprocessed documents lay scattered on the desk, and a few sample boxes were stacked in the corner.
The window was clean, though, offering a full view of the warehouse area outside.
Herman returned with two cups of tea, cleared a spot on the desk, and set them down.
“Please.”
Rex picked up the tea cup and took a sip, not bothering to appreciate what tea it was.
His gaze fell on the stack of lists on the desk.
The format of the lists was very neat—each batch’s dispatch time, destination, and handler were all written clearly.
But a few were tucked underneath, only a corner visible, and the handwriting on them looked more scribbled than the others.
He put down the teacup and casually picked up the topmost ledger, flipping through it.
“Are you married?”
Herman was taken aback, clearly not expecting such a sudden question.
Then he smiled, and his smile had something very genuine about it.
“To be honest with you, sir, I have a wife who loves me very much.”
He pulled a photo from a frame on the desk and handed it over.
“This is her. We’ve been married for twenty-three years.”
The woman in the photo had a round face, slightly plump, with a simple smile.
Next to her stood two young men who were clearly Herman’s sons—their features were cast from the same mold as his.
“Two sons.”
Herman pointed at the photo.
“The older one is Marcus, twenty-two this year, an apprentice at the blacksmith’s shop in the south of the city. The younger one is Philip, twenty, learning carpentry from his uncle.”
“They’ve both reached the age to start a family.”
“That’s right.”
Herman sighed, but his tone carried more of a father’s worry.
“Marcus has been looking at girls recently, and the bride price that family wants is not low. Philip isn’t in a hurry, but with his personality—he never fights for anything—I, as his father, worry about him even more.”
He put the photo away carefully and placed it back on the desk.
“It’s just a shame that I’m too busy with work and rarely have time to spend with them.”
“Mr. Brent works very hard.”
“Hard work? Nonsense.”
Herman waved his hand.
“It’s just making a living for the family, not really hardship. But you, Mr. Leonardo, have you started a family?”
Rex shook his head.
“No? You don’t look young either.”
Herman’s tone carried a kind of experienced concern.
“Haven’t met the right one?”
“Hmm… something like that.”
Rex put down the teacup and leaned back in the chair, quickly fabricating a fake story in his mind.
“When I was twenty, I liked a girl. I practically gave her everything I had at the time, but in the end, she ran off with a wealthy merchant.”
Herman’s expression changed—from concern to sympathy, and then from sympathy to a kind of empathetic resonance as if he had been through something similar in his youth.
“She was blind.”
Herman’s voice dropped a few notches.
“Don’t take it to heart, sir. There are plenty of good women in this world. She’s not worth…”
“It’s fine.”
Rex smiled.
“It’s all in the distant past. I’m fine alone now, very free.”
“But…”
“So I’m a lifelong bachelor now.”
Rex stood up and brushed non-existent dust off his clothes.
“Thank you for today, Mr. Brent. I’ll buy you a drink another day.”
“You’re too kind!”
Herman also stood up, the sympathy on his face not yet fully faded.
“Then… how about we go to that tavern in the south of the city tonight? The beer there is good, and I often go with a few old buddies.”
“Definitely next time.”
Rex politely declined.
“I have other things to do today.”
“Alright, alright. Take care.”
Rex walked out of the office, crossed the warehouse area, and headed out without looking back.
But he knew that Herman was at that moment standing behind the second-floor window, watching his retreating figure.
Herman was indeed watching.
He stood by the window with a calm expression, but his brow was slightly furrowed.
“Special Advisor?”
He muttered to himself, his voice so low only he could hear.
“Where did the President find this person?”
Only after Rex’s figure disappeared beyond the warehouse gate did he walk back to his desk and sit down.
His gaze lingered on the stack of lists on the table for a long time.
Then he reached out, pulled out the few scribbled lists from the bottom, folded them twice, and stuffed them into the inner pocket of his coat.
“Special Advisor…”
He repeated the words again, then shook his head and continued processing the papers on the desk.
Rex walked out of the warehouse gate and headed back along the street.
After a few dozen steps, he stopped at a fruit stall and casually picked up an apple.
“How was it today?”
He asked in a low voice.
The stall owner was a lean middle-aged man, busy arranging apples.
His lips barely moved, his voice squeezed out through his teeth.
“This morning he arrived an hour earlier than usual. Before entering the warehouse, he stood in the back alley for a while, as if waiting for someone. But no one came, so he went in.”
Rex put the apple back and took out a few copper coins, placing them on the stall.
“Continue tomorrow.”
“Understood.”
Rex turned and left, slowly walking back along the main street toward Li Ya’s villa.
But in his mind, he was reviewing every detail he had seen today.
Herman’s reaction had been too quick.
From seeing the ID badge to switching his expression, there was almost no pause.
A veteran employee who had worked in the warehouse for twenty years shouldn’t be so sensitive to the title of Special Advisor.
Unless he knew what that title meant.