The sound of a scrubbing brush scraping the floor echoed through the back room as the apprentice stood by the door, juggling a freshly baked, still-warm loaf of bread in his hands.
He looked at Lance with a trace of mockery in his eyes, as if to say, “Even if a chicken gets a rare chance to fly, it’ll end up back on the ground.” That was likely the gist, though the apprentice himself probably wouldn’t be able to express it so poetically.
Lance straightened up, holding the brush. “How’s yesterday’s bread treating you?”
The room still held a strong aroma of cheese and ham, and the grin hadn’t even faded from the apprentice’s face before it vanished.
His mouth began to tighten and his expression soured as if he’d tasted something awful. He looked like he had words to say, but over the past month, he had lost every single one of these exchanges.
He was always the one left in an uncomfortable silence. This time, he’d learned his lesson and, with a huff, simply turned and left, keeping what little pride he had intact.
The apprentice didn’t argue because experience had taught him that, no matter what he did, he’d end up feeling worse.
Everything in the world seemed against him, and the feeling of being rejected was even stronger as he tasted the dry, nearly inedible bread in contrast to the rich scent of cheese and ham.
Lance knew Johnny wasn’t a good person, but he needed a place for now.
He could’ve gone elsewhere, but dealing with Johnny was far less stressful than the trouble he might face in other places.
Johnny was just a fool—annoying, but ultimately harmless.
Money?
It was sitting right there in the drawer, and once he decided to leave, no one would stop him from taking what was rightfully his.
The bakery was packed during the three-day weekend rush, and the apprentice, likely still bitter over the pizza, stayed holed up in the back.
His mood seemed to be spiraling, but the chubby boss paid it no mind.
All he needed was a fool to help out without demanding pay. He’d never had any intention of teaching this kid his craft.
The only reason he’d even let the kid stay was because his mother, though older, still had tight skin and was good at sweet-talking him.
Whether the apprentice learned anything or not wasn’t the boss’s problem.
That’s how the trade worked: smart ones could pick up the craft; fools could just keep working.
Without Lance, this might have been the ideal life for the bakery owner.
But things were what they were.
For Lance, frustrating the boss with his helpless rage had become a small source of entertainment.
On Monday morning, when the fewest customers were around, Lance opened up the newspaper the boss had already read and quickly spotted news from the Empire. ŗ𝘢Ɲȏ𐌱˧
The emperor and his crazed army were being crushed by the rebel forces. His Majesty had issued the harshest conscription order in history, requiring every Empire male over fourteen to fight for the nation.
They might even conscript women, given that fewer people were willing to fight for the emperor or the royal family.
Even the nobles were staying neutral now.
Otherwise, the rebel army—made up of the Empire’s lower class—wouldn’t have defeated the Royal Knights so many times, forcing His Majesty to flee the capital.
“Madness” was the only word for the emperor’s current state.
The Federation had reported on this because the intensity of the Empire’s war was affecting two trade routes, leading to a steady rise in the price of certain goods.
The stock exchange warned that prices for these goods would remain high unless the war ended soon.
Below that article was a mention that more refugees were expected to arrive in the Federation to escape the war.
The number of illegal immigrants in just six months had already far exceeded that of previous years, sparking heated debate over whether to deport these “black-market immigrants.”
Jingang City and a few other prosperous cities were economically booming, creating new jobs so that the conflict between illegal immigrants and locals hadn’t erupted yet.
But in areas with slower growth, tensions had already begun.
The paper noted that three Midwestern states had decided to crack down on illegal immigrants, imposing strict deadlines for them to leave the Federation or face imprisonment.
Lance didn’t think much of this plan; for most illegal immigrants, prison itself could be a way of making a living.
Even in Jingang City, things were shifting. Work card fees were on the rise—an unmistakable sign.
In the afternoon, Elvin arrived with Ethan, Mello, and a few others.
It wasn’t a busy day at the bakery, so everyone had requested time off to relax together.
Lance went out to greet them, exchanging hugs and calling each of them “brother.”
This made the young men visibly excited, each one hugging Lance back, slapping his shoulder or back, and calling him “brother” in return.
Passersby cast glances their way, but quickly looked away, as it didn’t seem out of the ordinary.
They’d gathered partly because Ethan wanted to thank Lance in person, and also to strengthen their bond.
After all, Ethan’s trouble had ended up bringing them all closer.
It made these young souls far from home feel like a united group—a feeling that was both attractive and reassuring.
Lance requested leave from the bakery, and the boss deducted a dollar, but he didn’t care about that.
A group of young men strolled down the lively streets, surrounded by sleek cars and fashionable women everywhere.
The whole city pulsed with a unique vibrancy!
You could feel the city’s heartbeat, its growth, and its progress.
This was the first time Lance had really explored Jingang City, and he wandered through it with his friends.
The more streets they crossed, the more they saw. The blurry image in their minds was slowly taking form.
Lance lit a cigarette, a cheap one that cost five cents. It was harsh, and the smoke stung a little.
Ethan, curious, asked to try it. “Let me have a go…”
Lance handed him one, and soon everyone wanted to try. Back home, none of them would have dared.
The thought alone would’ve earned them a beating from their fathers!
But here, in the Federation, the chains were breaking, and they felt bolder, more free.
Unsurprisingly, they all choked after the first puff. Ethan tried to hold it back, but his face turned red before he finally gave in and coughed.
Lance laughed as he watched them, a raw energy stirring within him as he saw their youthful playfulness.
He flicked his ashes and asked, “So, what do you guys want to be in the future?”
Still coughing, Ethan raised a hand. “I want to get rich, buy a big house, and bring my mom over.”
Lance looked at Elvin, who tilted his head, thinking. “I want to be a lawyer. I hear lawyers make good money.”
One of the guys laughed. “But you didn’t go to school! You’d need college for that, and you can barely read.”
Annoyed, Elvin turned and punched him. “Then I’ll get rich like Ethan and hire a team of lawyers to work for me!”
Others said they wanted a beautiful girlfriend or to win the lottery.
Mello, a bit older at twenty-two, sat apart from the rowdy group, smiling as he watched them.
Lance looked over at him. “What about you, Mello?”
Mello scratched his head. “I just want legal status. I don’t really crave money that much. My family’s always been modest—not rich, sometimes even poor.”
“But that brings me peace. Sometimes I think having too much money isn’t good.”
“I’d rather earn wealth and everything I need by my own hands.”
“But the way things are, sometimes I feel like I can’t even breathe. All I want is to stand up and face life, not bend over to it.”
His words were heavy, and the others fell silent, each one reflecting on their own struggles and ambitions.
Some sighed, others muttered complaints about their jobs, but all felt an even stronger desire to achieve wealth and status.
These budding ambitions had been given fresh fuel today, and no one could predict what they’d grow into.
Finally, Elvin turned to Lance. “What about you? What do you want to be?”
Lance took a long drag, exhaling smoke slowly with a hint of a smile. “I want to be someone useful to society.”
The group blinked in surprise before bursting into laughter, pushing Lance around in jest.
Amid the laughter, something in each of their hearts was being grounded and reshaped, helping them integrate into this era more deeply.
Lance could feel himself transforming, no longer a mere visitor to this world. He was becoming a true part of it, someone truly alive in this time and place.
“Lance, do you think… our dreams can come true?”
Lance stubbed out his cigarette, nodded firmly, and answered with unwavering conviction, “They definitely can!”