A few hours had passed since Guil had given me the rundown.

He showed me the small dormitory where I would sleep and quickly explained the tasks I would be doing.

Now, in the early morning, I found myself in the midst of the farm.

My hands were covered in dirt as I desperately searched for the tuber that had slipped from my grasp.

It was crucial to find it. Each of these plants carried a debt of 2 points.

The field stretched out before me, vast and filled with countless plants.

The farm supervisor had made it clear that every plant mattered when she explained everything to me. She warned me that some months, they came within a hair's breadth of missing the debt payment by two or three tubers.

But the most worrisome point she raised was about the farmers' individual plots. Each farmer had a specific number of tubers to gather, and if the yield fell short, the responsibility fell on the farmer's shoulders, and their future would be at stake.

I couldn't afford to make a mistake.

My hands delved into the muddy soil, as if it had swallowed them whole.

Sweat trickled down my forehead, threatening to obstruct my vision.

I finally grasped something—a root.

I pulled it out, examining the peculiar tuber.

It was long with bulbous protrusions scattered all over it.

The stench emanating from it was nauseating, nearly making me gag.

I tossed it into my basket. "And people actually eat this?" I thought in disbelief.

I took a deep breath, trying to capture a bit of fresh air by raising my head, but the thick, stale odor of the field made it nearly impossible.

The putrid scent enveloped everything.

I had been warned that working in the field caused headaches, and now it all made sense. I was supposed to toil here for nearly 12 hours a day, every day.

I contemplated this idea.

"Isn't this worse than death?" I pondered.

I had done everything possible to avoid becoming a slave, and yet here I was, pretty much becoming one.

And the worst part was that I was expected to be grateful.

My thoughts were interrupted by an uneasy feeling.

The sensation that someone was watching me. I turned my head and confirmed my suspicion.

The farm supervisor was staring at me, anger etched on her face. I wasn't supposed to stop working. Immediately, I took a step forward and crouched down to pull another stalk.

It had only been a few hours since I arrived, and I was already contemplating a means of escape.

Perhaps I needed to discuss it with Guil? After all, no one had forced me to be here.

But I wasn't sure.

There were around ten other people with me, harvesting these plants.

They were working just as diligently and didn't seem to be here against their will.

Before making a decision, I needed to gather as much information about the situation as possible.

I awaited the brief pause we had, after six hours, to eat.

We were given a weed that tended to grow alongside the black Turcos.

It had no taste, but it was enough to fill our bellies.

"They don't even bother to feed us properly," I thought to myself.

We were slightly away from the field, eating on scraps of cloth that served as our makeshift plates. Seeking an opportunity, I approached another farmer.

He appeared thin and weakened.

His blond hair and youthful appearance belied his worn-out cheeks and tattered clothing.

"Hey, hi," I greeted him, raising my bundle of herbs. "Enjoy your meal."

He looked at me, surprised that someone approached him.

"Ah... Hi. Are you new?" he asked curiously.

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

"Yes, I arrived last night." Hearing this, he glanced at the herbs in my hand.

"Do you like the food here?" he inquired.

I shook my head negatively.

"You'll get used to it. I like it when they make bread with it sometimes, and the soup isn't bad either," he explained.

"Bread and soup? They cook this weed?" I asked, taken aback.

"Yes, but only on special occasions, like during a good harvest or when it rains," he replied.

I feigned interest, nodding my head.

"And... does everyone in the village eat this?" I innocently asked.

"He tilted his head, a puzzled look crossing his face.

"No, not everyone. Only the least useful people. The guardians, supervisors, and even the chief enjoy much better food," he stated, his voice steady, as if it were a universal truth.

"And the chief... Despite his importance, he's always the last one to pay his debts each month. Makes sure everyone's equal," he added, admiration tinting his words.

His tone was unsettling. It sounded less like true admiration and more like rehearsed propaganda.

I maintained a neutral expression, hiding my skepticism.

To gain his trust, I had to mirror his acceptance.

"Questioning the status quo could mark me as an outsider," I thought.

I sized him up quickly. He was someone who had managed to convince himself that his circumstances were normal, perhaps even satisfactory.

"And luckily, they are more useful than us!" I replied.

For the first time, he seemed to smile.

"Yes, especially the guardians. They deserve to have the best food possible. After all, they protect us," he continued.

I guessed that the guardians were the ones I had seen when I arrived—the armored men and the mage. "Yes... By the way, since I'm new, I'm not aware. How do they protect us?" I asked.

This time, he appeared annoyed.

"Well, their mere presence keeps any Drifters away!" he said simply, like a child defending their favorite hero.

However, that hadn't seemed to be the case when I saw them. They appeared frightened, and the only thing that saved us was the massive wall of trees we had crossed, probably thanks to Guil.

Of course, I didn't share all this with him.

I changed the subject to calm him down.

"The field is enormous. The harvest should be enough to pay off all the debts this month," I said, gazing towards the farm.

Glancing at his reaction, I saw him shocked.

Damn, what did I say wrong?

"No, no, no! That's nonsense! Every month, we come close to not being able to pay everyone's debts. And last month, we had to..." he stopped himself from speaking, waved his hand, muttered something, and began eating his herbs as if they were a sumptuous meal.

What had they done last month?

I asked him, but he didn't respond and turned his back to me.

They had gotten rid of someone who was no longer useful.

That was the only explanation I could think of.

I didn't press for more information.

A few minutes later, I returned to the field to continue my labor.

I kept up my repetitive motions, working faster than most of the other farmers.

It was likely due to my strength points.

Hopefully, they wouldn't get rid of me.

As I collected yet another black Turcos, I reflected on this debt matter.

I had been told that there were three farms of similar size here.

It took three nights for these plants to grow.

Each plant occupied a plot of land.

So each month, one plot brought in 20 points.

This farm, at a glance, must have... 10k plots easily.

So, three farms, 30k plots... 600k points!

Even if a harvest was poor, and even if level 30 players had debts of several thousand points...

No, unless I forgot something, it was impossible to run out of points.

The whole thing smelled like a scam.

The day passed, stretching into the late afternoon.

Finally, I had finished.

I wasn't sure what had exhausted me more, the harvesting or my ceaseless thoughts concocting various escape scenarios.

I checked my profile as I walked back to my dormitory.

My EP was running low, and I hadn't gained any XP despite all the harvesting.

"What a shitty day," I thought.

On my way to the dormitory, I decided to take a longer route and explore the village a bit.

I circumvented a house and found myself in an area I hadn't seen before.

The houses were spread several tens of yards apart.

It was a more expansive space than I initially thought.

When I had first crossed the village, it was later in the day.

Now, I observed people here and there, walking around.

Someone sat in front of their house, while another was repairing their roof.

Everything seemed peaceful.

But the more I advanced, the more I noticed a peculiar detail.

There were almost only people of a certain age.

The youngest person I saw must have been 40 years old.

The farmers working with me were all between 20 and 30 years old.

"So, after a certain age, they get individual houses instead of being crammed in a dormitory?" I pondered.

I found that idea fair. Seniority granted privileges.

I ventured further and realized I was moving away from the village.

There were no more houses.

In the distance, I saw the tree wall and a few lit poles illuminating the area.

I considered turning back when I spotted a square, imposing building.

It was near the wall and separate from the village. I decided to investigate.

After a few minutes, I stood before this peculiar structure.

It was tall with windows only on the second floor, each barred.

It resembled a prison.

It made sense to have a prison in this world, but such a large one for such a small village?

I decided to walk around the building, hoping to find the reason behind this mystery.

As I circled, I found nothing out of the ordinary.

There were only two windows at the front, and the three-story building was constructed of sturdy wood. I stood on the right side of the building, facing the wall, and touched the wood.

I was about to return to the village when I heard the heavy door of the building open.

Two male voices exchanged words.

"We were supposed to receive a sacrifice, but apparently, there was an issue," one voice said.

"I heard we got it for free," the other voice replied.

"Nothing is free in Hell. You know the saying: If it's free, someone must have died," the first voice retorted.

"Yeah, I know. But either way, someone will have to disappear this month," one of the voices concluded.

Then they moved away, presumably heading back to the village.

I waited there for a moment, leaning against the wood.

I didn't grasp everything, but I understood the main point.

This village wasn't protecting people from Hell; instead, it was a product of it.