I Became the Leader of the Monster Circus Troupe

The overall appearance of the Slagbrot Bakery Factory resembled a massive castle.

The sharp soaring chimneys resembled turrets, and the high outer walls without windows evoked thoughts of stone-built battlements.

However, the factory did have windows, albeit not easily recognizable due to the metallic panels used as exterior cladding, which gleamed with a silver sheen.

These panels were seamlessly joined together, leaving no room for even a single sheet of paper to slip through.

What was even more astonishing was that not a single flat metal panel was used; instead, the panels were curved at various angles, allowing the factory’s outer walls to form smooth curves, akin to dough moulded by skilled hands, without any sharp or jagged edges.

Such extreme curvature did not seem suitable for a factory building that should prioritize efficiency and productivity.

Similarly, there were no walls or armed guards blocking off the factory compound from the outside world.

The low fences and large arched gate at the main entrance served merely as symbolic boundaries, with not even security guards patrolling the area.

This open working environment fostered a atmosphere where confectioners could continuously develop creative products.

However, when the time came, he found himself seriously considering the need for barbed wire fences and armed guards.

It was during the October Halloween festival.

Throughout this month, the factory held a special event: children dressed as monsters would visit the factory to receive free snacks.

However, the snacks given out were mostly surplus or low-quality items.

This event was also an opportunity to clear out warehouses before the influx of imperial logistics shifted to Yeterinpuurk.

The factory manager had no issue with the event itself.

It was the boldness of the children, fuelled by the festive atmosphere, that worried him.

Just yesterday, several incidents occurred within the first day of October. Starting with a child falling into the chocolate tempering machine, then another being hospitalized for ingesting unneutralized toxins, followed by a child leaping into the incinerator to save the pet squirrel, and one nearly being flattened by the compression machine.

The fact that there were no fatalities that day seemed miraculous.

The circus-like atmosphere in the city only seemed to exacerbate the children’s excitement, leading to more recklessness.

Back in his day, such antics would have been met with a swift reprimand.

However, the factory manager recalled the daring children of his own youth with a sigh.

He feared what other accidents might occur in the remaining four weeks.

So, when he disembarked from his commuter carriage and saw the crowd of reporters surrounding him, it was not unreasonable for him to feel a pang of fear.

Perhaps there would be a fatality after all.

At this time of year, reporters often swarmed the area around the factory.

However, the crowd before him now was several times larger than usual.

Clearly, something major had occurred.

The reporters bombarded him with questions before he even stepped off the carriage.

“What happened?”

“Is it true?”

“Really?”

Probing for facts amidst the chaos was one of a reporter’s patented manoeuvres.

It was an effective tactic to unsettle someone who might be hiding something.

However, the factory manager was not one to be easily rattled.

He calmly deflected the questions and assessed the situation.

The reporters seemed frustrated by his non-responses.

“Could it be related to the item you purchased at the Vegas auction?”

“How did you ascertain the authenticity of the item?”

“Why did the nobleman visit here today?”

Finally, the factory manager pieced together the outline of the situation.

Whatever the reason for the reporters’ presence, it wasn’t solely because of what was happening here.

It was related to Marquis Slagbrot, the owner of this factory.

He noted that most of the reporters wore badges labeling them as “Special Correspondents” for various media outlets.

These individuals were dispatched to cover the Grand Circus Prix.

Based on these clues, they inferred one fact through the mention of “Vegas auction.”

“The Marquis must have acquired something else again.”

Marquis Slagbrot as a well-known circus enthusiast, with many rare collectibles related to circuses in his possession.

Just two days ago, he suddenly announced another visit here, leading the factory manager to speculate that he intended to add another exhibit to the showroom he had set up in a corner of the factory.

“Clear the way!”

“Step aside, everyone!”

Soldiers in uniforms carrying swords emerged from inside the factory.

They were the Marquis’ personal guards.

They pushed aside the questioning journalists and courteously escorted the factory manager inside the building.

The Marquis’ young secretary greeted him.

“Manager.”

“What’s going on?”

The secretary sighed softly, shaking his head.

“It seems rumours have spread somehow. We originally planned to reveal the item you acquired once all the guests had arrived, but things have turned out like this. I apologize.”

“It’s alright. October is always like this. But who are these guests you mentioned?”

“Well… Ah, there they are.”

The secretary gestured towards one side of the square.

Five carriages bearing the noble crests were lined up, making their way here.

As the secretary signaled, soldiers rushed out and quickly formed a cordon around the carriages.

The carriages came to a stop right next to the factory entrance.

As the coachmen opened the doors, people inside the carriages began to disembark one by one.

The journalists gathered here were all from entertainment magazines or cultural sections of newspapers.

They could identify the people getting off the carriages.

Golden Carnival.

Silver Veil Circus.

Satbyeol Circus.

Papal Circus.

Wonderstein Circus.

All five of them were participants in this year’s Circus Grand Prix.

They got off the carriages and greeted each other with delight.

Karen ran to Maya as usual, embracing her tightly, while Ella spotted Ruelle, clinging to her dad’s leg, and waved cheerfully.

Wonderstein exchanged greetings with Arno, Minova, and Hopps.

Hopps had met Arno at the Rose Windmill Cabaret before, but after him rescuing her sister at the last ball, they properly exchanged greetings.

Unlike the 50-year-old Arno and the married Minova was in his 30s, Hopps, in his 40s, having a slightly naïve aspect about him, often teasingly chiding him like an elder brother.

He would often throw jokes at him like a spiteful older brother.

Hopps started at Wonderstein’s face and chuckled.

“You seem to have shaken off the bachelor label while I wasn’t looking.”

“…Can you tell just by looking at my face?”

“Haha, you’re more innocent than you look. At least if you answer like that, you’ll get some sympathy, right? Carrying that face all the way to this age? So, who have you been sleeping with?”

“Can you please keep it down?”

Wonderstein glanced at Ella and Maya, who were standing nearby, and spoke.

Hopps’s expression stiffened at the sight.

“You wouldn’t happen to think that, would you?”

“Stop with the strange thoughts. It’s not like that. And shouldn’t you refrain from asking such questions?”

“So what? It’s just us guys here.”

At Hopps’s words, Wonderstein glanced at Arno standing next to him.

Arno didn’t give any indication and was staring into the distance.

At that moment, the man who had been standing alone until now intervened in their conversation.

“That guy’s nothing special, Hopps. He’s just a man who goes around hypnotizing women. Heh.”

At Simon Maguire’s words, Minova frowned and said, “Please stop with the nonsense, Lord Fantastic. Director Wonderstein is not that kind of person. He’s a decent young man. Let’s show courtesy among directors.”

Lord Fantastic nodded, as if to acknowledge his words.

“Ah, criminals indeed defend criminals. It may be true that there are many unprincipled individuals in this industry, but it would be awkward for me to treat someone who uses his fists or mesmerizes women the same way I treat other directors.”

“What did you say!”

The atmosphere between the two became tense.

The animosity between them spread to the children.

Ruelle clung to her father’s leg, trembling at the thought of another accident, while Ella glared at Lord Fantastic, who insulted Wonderstein, and Reyna standing behind him.

Now that it was about time for the secretary to gather the journalists and introduce them, he frowned at the situation unfolding.

‘This is why clowns are not welcome. How dare they come here as if they were invited?’

Fortunately, before he could step forward, Arno intervened and managed the situation.

As the oldest among the circus people gathered here, he gently restrained them, causing Simon and Minova to reluctantly step back.

Wonderstein thought that Simon seemed particularly irritable today.

Given their draft dispute, he certainly had reason to hold a grudge, but it was strange for him to pick a fight in this situation.

Once the situation was settled, the Marquis’ secretary lined them up behind and stepped forward to the journalists.

“As you may have already heard, His Lordship the Marquis recently acquired a valuable item. You may have heard of it before. ‘Fantasy 13.'”

His declaration surprised everyone present.

Fantasy 13 referred to the 13th script left by the playwright Christian.

Officially, he left behind 12 scripts, but rumours of an unfinished 13th script circulated in the industry since long time.

To finally find it was like discovering a gem in front of the factory.

“D-Did you hear? It’s Christian’s! Christian’s 13th script!”

No one was more excited than Ella.

She kept exclaiming in admiration, tightly gripping Wonderstein’s arm beside her.

He remembered how big a fan she was of Christian.

The journalists fired off their prepared questions like a barrage.

“W-Where did you acquire it?”

“Has its authenticity been verified?”

“When will you reveal its contents?”

The secretary calmly answered each question from the journalists.

“It was found in an old locker at the Lekachep Circus School. As you know, His Lordship and the playwright Christian were close friends.”

“It hasn’t undergone precise evaluation yet. However, His Lordship is confident it’s authentic.”

“His Lordship wanted to see the performance with his own eyes before revealing its contents to the public.”

The journalists nodded at the first two responses, but raised their eyebrows at the last one.

“What do you mean? His Lordship wants to see the performance himself?”

“Exactly as it sounds. His Lordship wishes to have the exclusive right to witness the first performance of the script.”

The secretary gestured to the 10 people from the five circus groups behind him.

“The individuals here are gathered to request exactly that: to perform the 13th script.”

Support TranslatorWrite ReviewJoin Discord

Chapter 208: Wonderland – 11