“Where’s Johnny?”
The apprentice rolled his eyes at the familiar, irritating voice and looked up at Lance. “You can’t just call him by his name. You should say ‘boss’ or ‘sir!’”
“And you missed tonight’s peak hours. The boss is furious and says he’s docking your pay—a lot of it!”
The apprentice smirked, his expression one of petty satisfaction.
Though his own life was miserable—over six months in the bakery, and all he’d learned was kneading dough. The chubby boss was meticulous about protecting his recipes. The apprentice knew the basic ingredients but had no idea about proportions or the sequence.
His time had been spent laboring over dough, shaping loaves, and putting them in the oven. Beyond that, he’d learned nothing.
Despite this, he carried an inexplicable sense of superiority, especially toward Lance. Teasing Lance was his twisted way of finding solace, though ever since his mother’s humiliating visit, his sense of superiority had started to crumble.
Still, his habit of mocking Lance persisted.
Lance didn’t bother taking the apprentice’s words to heart. Instead, he delivered a verbal punch.
“Just because he slept with your mom doesn’t make him your dad. If I were your dad, I’d be disappointed in you—he hasn’t even earned the title based on frequency!”
The apprentice froze, stunned by the venomous comeback.
Lance walked past him, tossing another barb over his shoulder. “Better mop that floor before he shows up, or your mom might have to pay the price again.”
The apprentice stood paralyzed, his face first red with rage and then pale.
His life was indeed worse than it seemed. Six months at the bakery hadn’t taught him anything useful, and the financial burden on his family was growing. His mother’s recent visit had been a desperate plea to stop paying tuition fees.
But the boss had refused, offering instead a degrading deal—monthly tuition would be waived in exchange for her providing… services. She agreed, ensuring her son could stay, though the situation humiliated them both.
The apprentice couldn’t afford to leave now. The sunk costs of his family’s money and sacrifices were too great. He was desperate to learn something useful, to prove their efforts hadn’t been in vain.
Lance knocked on the boss’s door, and it opened to reveal Johnny in a tattered undershirt. Upon seeing Lance, his face twisted with anger.
“You little worm! Missing peak hours tonight? I’m docking three dollars. And you owe me fifteen already—starting today, I’m charging you interest…”
Lance cut him off. “I quit.”
“What did you just say?” Johnny’s voice rose. “You’re quitting? Hah!”
He laughed derisively. “Who else would hire an illegal immigrant? The whole city’s against you Empire thieves and criminals. Nobody will give you a decent job but me!”
Despite his mockery, Lance could see a flicker of unease.
“I’ve worked about a week this month, plus last month’s wages. Just pay me twenty dollars, and we’re even,” Lance said calmly.
Johnny’s voice rose again. “Are you kidding me?” Then, dropping to a more conciliatory tone, he continued, “I know you’re upset, Lance, but this is your fault…” ṟᴀＮỐᛒËş
“How about this? I won’t charge you more, and I’ll give you five dollars for last month. Enough to save face with your friends. Let’s not make this harder than it needs to be, okay?”
Lance shook his head and walked toward the exit. “You disgust me, Johnny. When we meet again, I hope you still have this attitude.”
As Lance headed out, Johnny followed, calling after him. “Nobody works harder than you for free! Where am I supposed to find another one like you?”
The apprentice watched their exchange from the front room.
“Get out of my way, you idiot! And mop that floor before bed, or you’re out tomorrow!” Johnny barked, shoving past the apprentice.
By the time he reached the street, Lance was already in his car.
Johnny shouted, “I’ll report you for stealing from me!”
Lance stared at him through the window, his gaze so calm it sent a chill down Johnny’s spine. He fell silent, and Lance drove off.
Johnny stood fuming on the sidewalk, muttering curses and wondering how he’d find a new free worker. Returning to the bakery, he vented his frustration on the apprentice, spewing insults about his intelligence and his mother.
Finally, Johnny stormed back to his room.
The apprentice, red-eyed, clenched his fists so tightly his nails dug into his palms, yet he remained silent.
Lance found a cheap inn near the docks. One dollar a night, with limited hot water included. The wooden building smelled musty, a common problem for poorly maintained coastal structures.
The soft bed felt unfamiliar, but the real challenge came after midnight. The surrounding rooms came alive with noises—moans and cries that grew louder as if competing.
When one room quieted, another began.
Lance sighed. Even at this hour, some people carried their burdens through life’s thorny paths, struggling as best they could.