Chapter 23 Detective Comics

Thank you for the stone although it's only 12.

*Note*- Have done a 20 chapter mass release on patreon that makes it at 30 advance chapter.

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In this era, the media reigned supreme, even without official recognition. This understanding fueled Colin's determination to reshape The Messenger newspaper.

Tap, tap...

As noon approached, the rhythmic clattering of John's typesetting gradually faded away. Feeling the strain on his shoulders, he completed the final row of content and meticulously checked for any typographical errors. Only then did John let out a sigh of relief, standing up and leaving the typesetting machine behind.

Meanwhile, Jonny, who had been working alongside him in the newspaper office due to the snowstorm, pulled out his packed lunch. His stomach growled with hunger.

Using a small knife, he sliced the rosy-colored bread into pieces, spread a thin layer of peanut butter, and paired it with a cup of freshly brewed coffee. It was a modest meal, fit for an employee.

"Boss, here's your lunch," Jonny said, offering a slice of bread generously smothered with peanut butter along with the coffee.

"Thank you," Colin replied, briefly glancing at the meal brought by his assistant and expressing his gratitude.

Putting down the worn-out newspaper he had been reading, Colin opened a drawer and retrieved a half-empty bottle of salad dressing. He poured half of it onto a plate, adding a touch of meat, vegetables, and bread to his meal.

Letting out a silent sigh, he took a bite of the bread.

The texture of the pink bread was peculiar—crispy and delicate, occasionally accompanied by hints of bean or grain aroma. However, with each chew, a faint gamey flavor of offal lingered, and no amount of peanut butter could mask it.

Such a distinct and intriguing texture in a small piece of bread was a direct result of its ingredients.

Liver bread, also known as liver rolls or liver cakes, was a savory bread made by grinding pig liver and incorporating ingredients like beans, oats, and tomato sauce. It was then baked in a mold to form a long loaf shape. For Colin, it provided a source of meat in his lunch.

During the hardships of the Great Depression, offal was an affordable option, making liver bread a staple on ordinary households' dining tables when they couldn't afford more common meats like pork, beef, or chicken.

Simultaneously, it became a regular accompaniment to the lunch menu at The Messenger newspaper.

With a pinched nose, Colin forced himself to consume the remaining liver bread, aided by sips of coffee, and swallowed it down. As he contemplated the distinctive texture of the bread, he couldn't help but shudder.

"Perhaps we should consider removing liver bread from the lunch menu at The Messenger; it's certainly an acquired taste," Colin suggested, his brow furrowing as he observed Old John and his son in the newspaper office.

The two of them calmly consumed their bread, their expressions devoid of any significant reaction.

For those living through the harsh realities of the Great Depression, merely filling their stomachs was of utmost importance; taste and texture were luxuries reserved for the wealthy.

While munching on the liver bread, Jonny unfolded the newspaper, eagerly searching for a particular section he had been anticipating, immersing himself in its contents.

The fifteen minutes of lunchtime seemed unusually prolonged for Colin.

After taking the final sip of coffee from his cup and tidying up the meager cutlery on the table, Colin rose to his feet, placing the tray near the stove where the water was boiling. The rest was Jonny's responsibility.

One benefit of being the boss was not having to worry about trivial matters.

Especially during the Great Depression, workers became exceedingly diligent, fearing that a momentary oversight could cost them their valuable job opportunities.

Suppressing unnecessary thoughts had become a common practice among workers during those trying times. In order to sustain their essential sources of income, they learned to accept low pay and unfair working conditions.

Simultaneously, bosses often reminded their employees that if they became complacent, there were countless others willing to take their place.

If it weren't for the abysmal state of the economy, the Great Depression might have been an era coveted by all capitalists.

Shaking his head, Colin brushed away the inexplicable thoughts clouding his mind.

He picked up the coffee pot from the stove and refilled his empty cup, unconsciously passing by Old John and Jonny. His gaze inadvertently fell upon the newspaper's content.

To his surprise, Jonny wasn't engrossed in the expected news article but rather in a series of comics boasting a distinctly contemporary style.

Swallowing the last morsel of liver bread, Colin paused behind Jonny, unknowingly catching Old John's glance through his brass-rimmed glasses. The elderly man seemed poised to offer a reminder.

"Hush," Colin whispered, placing a finger to his lips, interrupting Old John and fixating his gaze on the comic strip held by Jonny.

The comic's storyline was straightforward, centered around a detective's battle against evil.

The protagonist was a typical private investigator who resorted to shooting criminals without much deliberation, in stark contrast to the traditional image of a detective relying on intellect to solve cases.

"What comic is this?" Colin inquired, his eyes scanning the storyline of the comic strip. Suddenly, a spark of inspiration ignited within him, prompting him to swiftly question Jonny.

"It's 'Dick Tracy'..." Jonny instinctively responded upon hearing the inquiry from behind.

Only then did he realize his mistake, raising his eyes to meet Old John's gaze and then awkwardly turning his head to face Colin? His face contorted with embarrassment as he stammered, "S-sorry, boss, I didn't mean to read... I didn't know you were here..."

"Don't worry, it's lunch break," Colin reassured him, gesturing toward the crumpled newspaper in Jonny's hands, which had suffered from his nervousness. He continued, "I'm simply curious about the comic you were reading. Can you tell me its name?"

Upon realizing that Colin didn't intend to reprimand him, Jonny released a relieved sigh, and Old John, who had been holding his breath on the other side, relaxed as well.

Following Colin's indication, Jonny hastily unfolded the wrinkled newspaper and explained, "It's 'Dick Tracy.' It's a recently serialized detective comic in the newspaper, chronicling the adventures of the protagonist, Dick Tracy, as he battles criminals and brings them to justice..."

"A serialized comic," Colin echoed, his gaze fixed on the black-and-white comic printed in the newspaper. He posed the question that intrigued him the most, "So, is 'Dick Tracy' popular?"

"This?" Jonny glanced down at the newspaper, his eyes focused on the printed depiction of the comic's protagonist, before responding with uncertainty, "It should be popular. Otherwise, 'Dick Tracy' wouldn't continue to be serialized in the newspaper..."

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