Under the shade of a roadside tree, Lance looked at Ethan. “Feeling a little uneasy, are we?”
Ethan shook his head, denying it. “No.”
But Lance could tell he was uncomfortable inside; Ethan just wouldn’t say it out loud.
“I worked hard for a whole month, and that bastard tried to pocket my pay. I punched him, and now I still have to apologize…” Ethan muttered.
Hearing Lance say this, Ethan raised his head, looking at Lance in surprise as though Lance had read his mind.
“Don’t look at me like that. I don’t know what’s on your mind—I just get it because I’m young, too.”
“Oftentimes, I feel like pride matters more than anything else, but, Ethan, this is the Federation.”
He lifted his head, taking a deep breath. “Do you smell that?”
Elvin joined him, inhaling the air, while Ethan was more straightforward. “The sea air, some stench, and maybe a hint of motor oil.”
“No!” Lance shook his head. “That’s the smell of money, and power!”
“This is a good place, Ethan. It’s a place where you can do whatever you want, as long as you have money. But you need money first.”
“Do you have money?” Lance asked. Ethan shook his head, and Lance patted his arm. “So, you’re still not in a position to do whatever you feel like—whether it’s punching that bastard or anything else.”
“I asked you to apologize because I don’t want this to escalate,” Lance explained, glancing at Elvin.
“The number of work cards at the docks is fixed, but outside the docks, there’s a countless number of people like us waiting to start work.”
“If that jerk twists the story and spreads it around, Ethan, Jingang City might not have a place for you anymore.”
“People won’t give jobs to someone who could punch their employer at any time. Why would they pick you to pay fifteen bucks when they could pick someone else? Because they’re asking for a beating?”
“You could take all his money, but it’d mean you—maybe all of you—won’t be able to find work at the docks afterward.”
“We’re too easy to recognize. They can spot us among others, so here’s today’s lesson—rules.”
“Take only what’s rightfully ours. As long as we follow the rules, no one can use those same rules against us.”
“If he doesn’t lie or cause trouble, no one will know what happened, and it won’t impact you.”
“But if he does stir up trouble, the rule-makers will deal with him for causing unnecessary chaos.”
“This isn’t the Empire, where you could go complain to your family, your uncles, or aunts and have them stand up for you.”
“Here, we have to bear it ourselves.”
Lance turned to Elvin, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “Ethan’s not the brightest sometimes, so keep an eye on him and get through this stretch of time.”
Recent events had made Elvin admire Lance to the point of near total obedience. “I will.”
Lance nodded. “If there’s anything you don’t understand, just say it.”
“We crossed the ocean to be here, we share the blood of our ancestors. We’re brothers—we should be open with each other, united together.”
Ethan lowered his head and, after a long pause, murmured, “Thank you.”
Lance chuckled and gave him a light punch on the chest, but Ethan didn’t even flinch, standing solid as a rock, like a little ox!
“Alright, I should be heading back. If anything comes up, don’t act impulsively. Come find me.”
“Even if you feel like killing someone one day, make sure to talk to me first. Don’t throw your life away over some stupid impulse!”
He gave Elvin’s arm another pat and headed off by car.
As Lance departed, Elvin rolled his eyes at Ethan. “Do you even know everything that went down today?”
Ethan scratched his head, looking a bit embarrassed. “Sorry for dragging you guys into this.”
Elvin waved a hand dismissively. “We’re brothers and fellow villagers, Lance was right—we should stick together.”
Then he recounted what happened after Ethan went into hiding, including how several friends from the first wave of arrivals chipped in money to help, even two strangers from their hometown pitched in three bucks. 𝐫аŊ𝔬𝐛Ê𐌔
Ethan burst into tears!
He felt deeply moved and guilty because his foolish actions had saddled everyone with debt.
Now, as the shame gave way to guilt, reason began to return, making him calm down. He realized how stupid it had been to hit that bastard in a moment of rage.
“…So, the most urgent thing now is to pay back this debt.”
“The good news is, I’ve still got over seventy bucks, so we don’t actually need much more…”
As the car sped down the bustling street, Lance sat in the front passenger seat. “Got a smoke, Fordis?”
Fordis gave him a sideways look. “You should add ‘sir’ to that request!” But he still pulled open the glove compartment, revealing a pack of cigarettes.
Lance took one, lit it with a match, and inhaled deeply.
Thick smoke filled his lungs, carrying the scent of summer, a whiff of nostalgia, of time, and of history, instead of just tar and toxins!
He rested his right elbow on the open window, leaning his head out, letting the hot summer wind ruffle his hair and blow through his heart.
A new world, a new life, a new beginning!
For once, his calm face showed a hint of a genuine smile—whatever brought him here, he’d use this world as his canvas to paint his wildest dreams!
At 4:55, the car stopped in front of a bakery. When Lance got out with Fordis, the chubby bakery owner’s eyes nearly popped out!
He hesitated, looking unsure. “Lance, you didn’t get me in any trouble, did you?”
“And who is this gentleman…?”
Lance was an undocumented immigrant, a stowaway. The boss had figured that out long ago; otherwise, no legitimate person would take a job for barely ten bucks a month, even as a minor.
The Federation had never prohibited child labor, only set shorter work hours and required proper wages.
Lance had nothing—no work card, no social security number—so he was definitely undocumented.
Seeing Lance return in a luxury car couldn’t help but make the boss feel suspicious, even a bit uneasy.
Lance kept things simple. “A new friend, Mr. Fordis, just stopping by to grab some bread.”
“I didn’t miss my shift, did I?”
Since he hadn’t figured out who “Mr. Fordis” was, the boss reined himself in a bit. “Of course not, I was just joking with you.”
He paused. “Go get your apron on; I’ll attend to Mr. Fordis.”
Taking in Fordis’s clearly expensive attire, the boss was reminded of his middle-class knack for knowing these things.
Who else were those magazines targeting, if not the aspirational middle class?
Certainly not the high-spending wealthy!
“Lance is a diligent kid. If the floor’s been mopped once, he’ll mop it again just to stay busy.”
“I always use him as an example to show others how good he is.”
“Although he’s a bit shy socially, I had no idea he knew someone as important as you, Mr. Fordis.”
The boss’s attempt at probing was clumsy. Fordis shot him a glance, said nothing, and stepped into the bakery.
Though annoyed, the boss kept a smile on his face, gazing at the luxury car and Fordis’s fine clothing.
Realizing Fordis wasn’t interested in small talk, he backed off. “Lance, introduce your friend to some of our specialties.”
Lance, now in his apron, stood behind the counter. His new look amused Fordis. “So… what would you recommend?”
Lance opened the display case. “The only thing here remotely tasty is the high-quality ham from Musu Island.”
Musu Island, another country, wasn’t close by. Thanks to its unique climate and geography, it was famous for three things:
Tobacco.
Ham.
And women.
Lance picked up a piece with tongs and handed it over. Fordis pinched it with his fingers, gave it a taste, then shook his head. “Not authentic Musu ham; barely passable.”
“If this is the best you’ve got…”
He glanced over at the boss in the corner. “I’ll take two portions, and two breads that match. Got any donuts?”
“Yes, with every box of donuts, you get a free coffee. If you like your coffee like wood shavings, I can give you an extra cup.”
Fordis closed his eyes as if dizzy. “So, this is how you treat your customers?”
Lance chuckled, packing the food as he teased, “Ninety-nine percent of our customers just want a full stomach. They care about the price, not the taste or origin.”
He packed everything into a paper bag and placed it on the counter. “Six ninety-nine.”
One box of donuts, ninety-nine cents, including a free coffee.
Two premium hams, five bucks. Two better-quality breads, one dollar. A fair price.
With his food in hand, Fordis paid, giving Lance a reminder, “Don’t forget your deal with the boss!”
He cast a glance at the boss before pushing the door open, smiling politely as he left.