Afterward.
Young Sang trailed behind Luna and Adolf. He wore a set of tattered clothes and a pair of filthy straw sandals. With his hands clasped behind his head, he strolled along whistling idly—a perfect picture of carefree sloth.
The orphanage’s income came from just three sources. First, the negligible subsidies from the local government. Second, donations from wealthy families, which were hit or miss. Third and most reliable: the dean leading everyone out to work.
Take today, for example.
Dean Lilian—the young lady everyone called Sister Lilian—had brought the whole group of thirty-plus kids to weed the manor of Kaen Town’s lord, Baron Loren. And for all that labor, their pay was a measly three copper coins plus sixty inferior coins.
Oh.
Right.
A quick note on the currency in this world: one hundred inferior coins made a copper coin; one hundred copper coins made a silver coin; and ten silver coins made a gold coin.
Purchasing power was tricky to explain. That could wait.
When Young Sang got back to Loren Manor, he found a bunch of kids of all ages hard at work along the road. The moment they spotted him, the complaints came pouring out.
“Sang, how do you always manage to slack off?”
“Sang, you’re the worst!”
“Sang, you’re dead meat! Sister Lilian is mad—no dinner for you tonight!”
Sang had lived eighteen years in his old world and picked up some modern education along the way. Inside, he was a sly adult. He couldn’t care less about these kids’ whining. He sauntered over to where Dean Lilian stood, then bent down and pretended to get busy.
He didn’t want to miss dinner for real.
Going hungry hurt like hell.
This world was truly cruel.
Luna and Adolf were Sang’s best friends at the orphanage. They knew his tricks all too well—the slacking first, then the fake diligence. They exchanged a glance and shook their heads in helpless amusement.
Though Lilian was the dean, she was only in her early twenties: a gentle woman with striking looks marred only by a smattering of freckles.
She always threatened the kids with no dinner, but she rarely followed through. Only if someone caused real trouble and pushed her too far would she actually punish them that way.
Just then, Lilian spotted Sang popping up out of nowhere. Hands on her hips, she grumbled, “Sang, were you slacking off again?”
Sang replied without batting an eye, “No way. I just had to use the bathroom.”
She sighed. “I really can’t do anything with you.”
“Heh heh heh. Sister Lilian, you’re too good to me.”
“You’re just a rascal on the outside, but deep down, you’re probably the most mature kid here… Too bad all that cleverness goes to waste on slacking.”
“Eh… I’m just a kid who’s been out of kindergarten for over a decade!”
“What’s a kindergarten? Ah, there you go again with your weird nonsense… Fine, I’ll let it slide this once. It’s still early—hurry up and finish your work.”
“Got it!”
Lilian had been an orphan herself, raised by the previous dean. A few years back, when the old dean passed away, she’d taken on this thankless job.
Don’t think being dean was easy.
This was a world ruled by the Blood Race, one none too kind to humans—let alone a pack of fatherless orphans. Lilian racked her brains every day just to keep food on the table.
The tropes in webnovels were all lies.
A transmigrator couldn’t accomplish squat.
Your modern ideals would only mark you as a freak. Champion human rights in a world with none? You’d suffer even more.
Like Brother Xun, wielding his pen like a sword to slash through the night’s darkness? He’d be a corpse in the street by morning. Or maybe tinker with inventions? What could an eighteen-year-old almost-college dropout even do?
Just like that old saying: “Say the Earth is round, and they’ll burn you at the stake.”
So it was that An Xiguang—no, Young Sang—sometimes felt a strange sense of déjà vu. He was a puny ant by the roadside, watching the wheel of history rumble past, crushing everything in its path. Forget changing its course; just keeping up without getting left behind took every ounce of effort.
Well…
If he couldn’t keep up, he wouldn’t bother trying.
Even if the wheel of history left him in the dust, forgotten in some corner of time, Sang didn’t mind much. He’d lived hard enough in his last life. This one, he might as well hole up forever in this rundown little town.
The sun dipped toward the horizon.
Another gorgeous dusk. The orb intertwined with distant peaks, painting the sky in blazing oranges and reds, like a sky set aflame. Flocks of birds wheeled by, their cries echoing faintly. A clear wind scattered the day’s stifling heat. Pure bliss.
The day’s work was done.
Lilian led the other kids back to the orphanage. Young Sang loved this lazy haze, so he wasn’t in any rush. Instead, he lingered alone under his favorite tree, leaning against the trunk for a quick rest.
This was the secret base of Sang, Luna, and Adolf.
Sure enough.
Moments later, Luna and Adolf showed up. The three of them sat in a circle around the tree trunk. Sang fished two shiny red apples from his pocket and handed one to each.
“Here! For you guys!”
Luna’s first reaction: “Watermelon, did you steal these?”
“What do you mean steal? A scholar doesn’t steal—he takes! Baron Loren’s a cheapskate. Thirty people for a day’s work, and he pays just a few copper coins plus sixty inferior ones? Taking a little heat subsidy isn’t too much, is it?” Sang shrugged it off.
“Stealing is wrong!” Luna was a stubborn, no-nonsense kid.
Sang didn’t bother arguing. He held out his hand. “You’re right, stealing is wrong. So don’t eat it—give it back to me!”
“No way! I’ll eat it for you. It’ll lighten your sins~!” Luna licked her lips and stuck out her tongue.
“You’re shameless, Luna.”
“Nyah nyah~”
Adolf was an upright kid, but he had no qualms about taking from the Blood Race.
Oh, right—Baron Loren was one of them. Adolf hadn’t started out at the orphanage. At age eight, the Blood Race had killed his parents, turning him into an orphan. He hated them with a passion. Right then, he chomped into the apple like it was a hunk of the baron’s flesh.
“What about you, Sang?” Adolf asked halfway through his. He’d noticed something: only two apples, and Sang had given them both away.
Sang waved it off with a cheeky grin. “Idiot. Someone as clever as me? I already ate so many I’m sick of them.”
He even mimed gagging.
Luna made a disgusted face and nodded. “Don’t worry about Stinky Watermelon, Adolf. He’s the slipperiest guy around!”
Adolf seemed to catch on but said nothing.
In truth…
Young Sang had lied. When the work ended and someone from the manor came to check the weeds pulled, two apples was the absolute limit. Get caught, and the whole group’s pay for the day would’ve been docked. Everyone’s labor down the drain.
Here in this otherworld, fresh off the boat, his goal was simple: apple freedom.
