After a sudden downpour, the sun dried the mud on the roads once again. When the big trucks rumbled past, dust flew everywhere.
In the hot, damp wind, the dust rose listlessly, then drifted back down.
Every patch of exposed skin could feel waves of unpleasant slickness and stickiness. Everything between their legs had clumped together, and no matter what, it just felt wrong.
Taking even a few steps outdoors made one sincerely miss ice-cold Happy Water and air conditioning.
Unfortunately, both were luxuries in the Wilderness.
Very few got to enjoy them.
As summer gradually faded away, after one torrential rainstorm after another that seemed endless, the rainy season—so long it felt like people would grow mushrooms from the torment—finally came to an end.
The Wilderness once again welcomed stability and prosperity.
Setting aside the relatively infrequent rainstorms and the comparatively less brutal sunlight, it was already fair enough to call this a crisp autumn season.
The settlement folk and Garbage Collectors, who had been stifled for months, once again shouldered all their belongings and poured out in force, as though it were harvest season. For a moment, the once desolate and barren Wilderness actually showed faint signs of bustling activity.
Unlike previous years, this time there was quite a bit more eye-catching red.
More and more overloaded Small Three-Wheelers painted in gaudy colors appeared on the roads, traveling back and forth between various settlements, temporary construction sites, and mines.
The equally conspicuous drivers drank, smoked, and carried guns as they delivered goods to every godforsaken corner.
The Small Three-Wheelers and uniforms were often spray-painted with a black logo, along with the name of a company that had recently risen to fame in the Wilderness—Courier Logistics.
"Uncle, o-old... who the hell is this old bastard? His name's pretty complicated..."