After a sudden downpour, the sun dried the mud on the roads once more. When the big trucks rumbled past, dust rose in their wake.
In the hot, damp wind, the dust drifted up listlessly, then settled back down.
Any exposed skin could feel waves of unpleasant slickness and stickiness. Everything in one's crotch had clumped together, making it impossible to get comfortable.
Taking just a few steps outdoors made one sincerely miss ice-cold Happy Water and air conditioning.
Unfortunately, both were luxuries in the Wilderness.
Those who could enjoy them were few and far between.
As summer gradually receded, after one seemingly endless torrential rainstorm after another, the interminable rainy season—the kind that made people sprout mushrooms in their misery—finally came to an end.
The Wilderness once again welcomed stability and prosperity.
Setting aside the relatively infrequent rainstorms and the relatively less vicious sunlight, it could now be called a fine season of crisp autumn skies and refreshing air.
The Settlements residents and Garbage Collectors, who had been stifled for months, once again shouldered all their belongings and poured out in full force, like farmers in the busy season. For a time, the once desolate and barren Wilderness actually seemed faintly bustling.
Unlike previous years, however, there was much more conspicuous red this time.
More and more overloaded Small Three-Wheelers, painted in every imaginable color, appeared on the roads, traveling back and forth between the various Settlements, temporary construction sites, and mines.
The equally eye-catching drivers drank liquor, smoked cigarettes, carried guns, and handled deliveries to every godforsaken corner of the land.
The Small Three-Wheelers and uniforms were often sprayed with a black logo, along with the company name that had recently risen to prominence across the Wilderness—Courier Logistics.
"Uncle, o-old—what the hell is this old bastard's name? It's