Chapter 88

Chapter 88: Friend Grete

A few rough men sat on the rocks by the sea. This place was relatively open; a piece of cloth was spread over the rocks, with two leftover roasted chickens on it. There were also several empty wine bottles nearby. The men had their mouths greasy from eating and belched loudly.

“Hey Manda, why did you leave three silver coins for that kid just now? It’s—”

One of them, who had drunk quite a bit, asked with his tongue curled up. He leaned against the rock, spreading his legs apart.

“You guys don’t understand the value of a steady stream. If you take everything, that kid won’t be able to work and will run away. Who would you rob then?”

“It’s better to give him some hope so he keeps working. That way, he won’t give up, right? Haha.”

Manda was heavily intoxicated, his face flushed red. He spoke slowly and drunkenly.

“Manda is smart as always. Here, have another drink.”

“Cheers!”

The group raised their wine bottles again and drank, spending most of the nine silver coins they had stolen that day.

The young man who had been robbed was none other than the waiter Lolan Hill had seen at the restaurant before. After that incident, his “reputation” spread among the guests. Some began to mimic the behavior, making him imitate a pig’s call and deliberately making things difficult for him, hoping to see him humiliated.

This was a way to cheaply flaunt themselves, as if their status immediately rose when they mocked others.

Not all was sunshine and rainbows in this world; there was more deceit and filth.

One day, he finally couldn’t take it anymore. The boss didn’t say much after learning about it, settled his wages, and suggested he try his luck at some workshops in the city. Coincidentally, the Nisos family’s winery was hiring, and he became a regular worker there, though due to his age, he only received two-thirds of the pay, which he was still satisfied with.

The next day, he went to work at the winery as usual, but today he lacked the usual vitality. He mechanically performed his tasks, his expression numb and dull, just like the other workers in the factory, as if they were cast from the same mold.

What was the meaning of life? These laboring workers didn’t think about such complex questions. They knew only to work, eat, sleep, and get up to work again. When they had a little money, they might buy something good or have a drink.

As for what the future held, they didn’t think about it and didn’t want to. Everyone lived this way, didn’t they?

Such workers were abundant in Hope Lane. Some came from rural areas inland, others crossed over from West Wind, and some were even fugitives from other countries. As long as you could work, no one cared about your past, not even a king. Once trapped in this monotonous cycle of labor, one’s spirit was gradually eroded until they became just another stone, indistinguishable from everyone else.

Everyone was like this, wasn’t it? So they accepted their fate contentedly, acknowledging that they were just ordinary people.

—

But even in this perpetually gray world, there were still those who tried to light a fire.

A new employee joined the winery. He had short black hair and was in his twenties. His name was Grete, and the most striking feature about him was his bright, determined eyes.

In the initial days, he followed the routine and learned the safety procedures. After some time, he quickly befriended the younger workers in the winery. His handsome appearance made even some middle-aged women like him.

One day, he finished work early and invited Bard to join him for a drink to relax.

Bard declined, saying he had no money and felt too insecure to speak, fearing he would only make things awkward.

But Grete didn’t mind. He insisted on treating Bard and dragged him along. Given Grete’s good behavior, Bard didn’t resist strongly. They bought some pies, smoked meat slices, and drinks, and found a quiet spot by the sea on a hillside to eat and chat.

“Where are you from, Bard?”

“I’m from Graythorn County, a poor place at the foot of Vergha.”

“Oh, I’m from West Wind. My hometown is far away in Nied County. We produce a lot of ore there, but unfortunately, mining is very exhausting.”

“Yes, I’ve heard it’s dangerous too,” Bard nodded.

“What about you, Bard? What does your hometown produce?”

“Our place is poor, but Gray Hemp is somewhat famous.”

“That’s not bad. What does Gray Hemp look like? I’ve never seen it.”

“Gray Hemp is—”

Thus, Bard and Grete shared their pasts, discussing their hometowns, specialties, reasons for coming to Hope Lane, and recent lives.

Initially, Bard was a bit reserved, but as they chatted freely, Grete revealed his own flaws and fears, making Bard feel closer to him. Bard relaxed considerably.

At least this person was genuinely listening to me, wanting to understand my story, treating me like a real person. This care and respect were something he had never experienced before.

Unconsciously, Bard spoke about many things he had kept bottled up inside, his thoughts, his past, and recent events.

As dusk approached, the orange sun bathed at the horizon, casting a gentle glow over the beach and hillside, dyeing the world in beautiful gold.

Standing by the sea, Grete picked up a small pebble and threw it obliquely, watching it bounce off the water three times before sinking.

“How’s that? Pretty impressive, right?” Grete said with a hint of boasting.

“Haha, that’s impressive? Watch this.”

Bard picked up a pebble and threw it towards the sea. It bounced a few times before falling, though it didn’t fly far, it was slightly better than Grete’s.

“See how it goes!” Bard smiled.

“Didn’t know you were pretty good at this, Bard.”

“Of course, haha.” With that, both laughed.

From that day on, Bard and Grete became friends. A few days later, Grete introduced Bard to more people. Some worked at the winery, others at the neighboring oil press, and some at the dyeing factory. These people were similar to Grete, sincere and enthusiastic. None of them mocked Bard’s appearance; instead, they said he looked decent, which boosted his confidence and made him more outgoing.

Thus, this group often ate together after work, sometimes going out to play. Bard made many friends and no longer hid in the corner as before.

It was as if the sun had climbed over the wall, its light pouring into this dark and damp corner, gradually drying and hardening it.

Thank you, Xing Xuan Chen Yu, for your support!