The Road to Adulthood

As everyone left the room, Dida moved a chair over and sat beside Wells.

"Captain Wells, I truly have you to thank this time. If you and your men hadn't risked your lives to protect me, I'm afraid I wouldn't have escaped this disaster either."

Faced with Dida's gratitude, Wells raised his bandaged hand and waved it dismissively.

"Mr. Dida, you're too kind. This is what we should do. Since we accepted your employment, protecting you and the cargo is our foremost duty."

Hearing Wells's response, Dida waved his hand, and silence fell between them.

Watching the caravan manager hesitate, Wells's heart sank. A bad feeling drifted up from the depths of his heart.

Seeing Dida remain silent, Wells, unable to hold back any longer, forced a smile and asked him,

"Mr. Dida, did you come to speak with me about something?"

Since Wells had taken the initiative to ask, the caravan manager, after hesitating for a long while, showed a trace of embarrassment before slowly speaking.

"It's like this, Mr. Wells. First of all, I am personally deeply grateful for saving my life. Without you, I might not even be able to sit here and speak to you now. But there are some hurtful things I have no choice but to say.

"None of us wanted this transport to be attacked by wolves, but regrettably, it did happen, causing heavy losses and casualties to both the caravan and the mercenary company.

"None of us can change this outcome. Your mercenary company has lost more than half its members and can no longer complete the remaining escort duties. According to the agreement we signed before, I must terminate our cooperation.

"But in consideration of your saving my life, I will waive your breach-of-contract penalty and compensate you with ten gold coins in my personal capacity."

As Dida spoke at length, Wells froze on the bed. He could only watch Dida's mouth move nonstop while his mind turned into a muddled mess.

Without money, how was he supposed to compensate his men? They had barely escaped death, only to receive nothing. In his desperation, Wells struggled up from the bed and reached out to grab Dida's arm.

"Mr. Dida, no, no, please reconsider. We still have half our men left. Just give me a few days, and I can recruit more people. We can still complete the commission."

Dida was startled by Wells suddenly lunging at him and hurriedly rose, trying to break free.

"Let go, Captain Wells, let go! Don't get worked up. This is the contract, a contract written in black and white. Though I am deeply grateful that you saved my life, according to the contract, if the caravan's goods suffer twenty percent damage, you must compensate us. Now, a full thirty percent of my goods have been damaged."

Wells, crippled and bedridden, had lost all his former vigor. As Dida tried to evade him, he was dragged off the bed as well. Like an old dog with a broken spine, he collapsed onto the floor, his only movable hand clutching Dida's trouser leg as he begged continuously.

"Mr. Dida, Mr. Dida, you can't do this. Our mercenary company gave everything for your cargo. We don't want the original fee anymore. Eighty! How about eighty gold coins?"

Seeing Dida remain unmoved, Wells hurriedly continued.

"Sixty, sixty gold coins will do, Mr. Dida."

At that moment, hearing the commotion in the room, Paimon anxiously shoved open the door and rushed inside.

The moment he entered, he saw a sight that made his blood boil. His uncle was being humiliated beneath the feet of that disgusting fat man. Overcome with rage, Paimon charged forward with his fist raised and punched Dida squarely in the fat face. The caravan manager flew straight into the wall like a round balloon.

Just as Paimon was about to spit out a few harsh words, Wells's furious shouting rang out.

"You swine, you idiot, you fool whose brain has been soaked in beer, what are you doing?! Get out of here!"

Paimon froze at his uncle's furious rebuke. Ever since he was little, his uncle had always been kind and gentle. He had never scolded him even once.

But Wells, lying on the floor, had no time to care about that. He wriggled toward Dida, who had fallen to the ground.

"Mr. Dida, are you all right? Paimon, that child... Paimon didn't mean it. He's still young. He may have misunderstood..."

The caravan manager sat up from the floor and rubbed his swollen cheek. He opened his mouth and spat out a tooth, then glanced at Wells, who lay on the floor pleading with his eyes, before looking at the frozen Paimon. Supporting himself against the wall, he slowly rose without a word, walked over to Wells, tossed down a money pouch, and left without looking back.

Watching Dida leave the room, Wells lay motionless on the floor like a deflated ball. The members gathered at the doorway hurried inside and, with many hands, carried Wells back onto the bed. Yet they tacitly avoided mentioning what had just happened. Second Captain Okro waved his hand, signaling for everyone to leave and not disturb the captain's rest.

Only after the door closed did Wells dare to cry aloud, despairing like a forty-year-old man who had been fired, divorced by his wife, and discovered that the child was not his.

Havent brought Paimon to a table outside the inn, then raised a hand to order two drinks from a passing waitress.

Looking at Paimon, who said nothing and whose face was flushed red from holding it in, Havent found the situation somewhat tricky. A seventeen- or eighteen-year-old youth was at the age when his pride was strongest. If he said even one wrong thing today, they might end up cutting ties for good.

The waitress brought over two large mugs of beer. The youth, who would normally have taken a moment to admire the waitress's figure, was unusually indifferent today. He grabbed the beer and gulped it down in a few swallows. Before Havent could figure out how to begin, Paimon had already picked up the second mug and drained it as well.

Seeing Paimon still silently stewing, Havent raised his hand again and beckoned to the tavern waitress. Fine, perhaps getting drunk would be a good thing too.

"Bring me a wooden barrel of strong liquor, a roast chicken, two charcoal-grilled pork hind legs, and two bowls of stewed meat with rice."

Soon, the waitress brought over everything Havent had ordered. Not wanting his good brother to drink alone in misery, Havent began drinking cup after cup alongside him.

"Will, am I really such a useless person? Can't I do anything right?"

After seven or eight cups of strong liquor, Havent's mind had begun to drift. Holding a chicken leg in his hand, he replied unclearly,

"If you put it that way, then yeah, a little. You're too straightforward. You do things without thinking them through, and being impulsive isn't a good thing."

Paimon, with the alcohol rising to his head, protested unwillingly.

"But they never respected me. They always treat what I say like a joke and think I'm still a child."

"So what? We are children. Being an adult is hard work. Look at your uncle just now. To make sure everyone had food to eat, he humbled himself before that fat pig. Then you went up and punched away every bit of that fat pig's guilt over owing your uncle his life. You're that impulsive—if you aren't young, then who is?"

Listening to Havent's words, Paimon stared blankly into his wooden cup, not knowing what he was thinking.