Marketplace and Bullying

At four or five in the morning, the sky was still pitch black. Most people were still asleep, but the market in Edusburg had already become bustling, with the most hardworking people in the city sweating it out.

There were bare-chested laborers, shouting slogans as they laboriously dragged carts full of fruits and vegetables through the market; there were vendors shivering in the cold morning wind, their hands working like they were knitting sweaters, quickly and methodically arranging goods on the shelves; there were young lads with stubbly chins, brushing spices onto meat skewers as thick as a forearm amidst the smoke of burning charcoal and the aroma of grilled meat; and merchants selling livestock, pointing at the moaning animals in wooden pens, haggling fiercely with customers whose faces were red from the cold.

Roy struggled to squeeze past several large boxes of fresh, mud-covered parsley and watercress, arriving near a stall selling herbs.

The stall owner was a middle-aged man in his forties, wearing a thick felt hat and a grey cloak. He rubbed his hands rhythmically inside his sleeves, his honest face covered in orange-peel-like wrinkles, his dark, cloudy eyes holding a merchant's customary shrewdness.

"Young man, what do you want to buy?" The merchant's gaze swept over Roy's still-childish, handsome face, and he rubbed his fingers together mysteriously and lewdly. "Medicine for hemorrhoids and anal fistulas?"

Hemorrhoids and anal fistulas? Roy blinked, wondering why he would say that. He couldn't possibly think I... A look of disgust, as if he had eaten a fly, appeared on his face. "I'm not here to buy herbs... My name is Roy. I just arrived in Edusburg not long ago and I'm looking for a job. I heard the market is short on people, so I came to ask."

"Is that so... Roy," the merchant nodded, crossing his arms and scrutinizing him again. "You don't look strong enough, so we can rule out most of the physical labor. Can you do arithmetic? Can you read? What other strengths or advantages do you have? Tell me."

"Arithmetic is no problem, but I can't read common script." Roy's eyes scanned the merchant's shelves, observing all the dozens of herbs. A slight smile appeared at the corner of his mouth. "Besides, I'm very familiar with herbs. For example, I know the oldest herb on your shelf, in the center square, is a five-year-old Mandrake Root. Mandrake Root is very effective for rheumatism, malignant sores, and coughs."

The merchant's face showed surprise. He hadn't expected this young boy to have such sharp eyes and be so accurate. "Take a closer look, what herb is this?" The merchant pointed to the square to the left of the Mandrake Root, a yellowish-brown, conical root.

"This is Aconite," Roy winked at the shopkeeper. "It's about three years old, and it's mainly used for... well, it has a miraculous effect on impotence."

The merchant asked him about more than ten kinds of herbs on his shelves, and Roy answered them all fluently.

"You can even recognize the flowers of this Bidens? Young man, you truly have extraordinary knowledge," the shopkeeper exclaimed, extending his hand to him. "Roy, right? You can call me Tross. I've been running an herb shop in the market for over ten years, and I have a good reputation, both personally and for my shop. Would you consider working for me? Your accent clearly indicates you're not from Edusburg, and besides me, the other vendors aren't easy to get along with."

"Can you be more specific?" Roy's heart relaxed, and he calmly asked, "For example, the job content and salary..."

"Young man, I'm forty-three years old this year. To run this shop, I still have to get up at four or five in the morning every day, brave the freezing cold to get goods and set up the stall. This kind of life is too torturous. I might not live to fifty. I want to find an assistant to help me get through this period. Someone familiar with herbs and who can do arithmetic would be best, and they must have a good memory."

"Mainly, you'll be here from four in the morning until eight, waiting for me to relieve you. If there are no problems, the weekly salary is 5 Crowns and 50 Copper Coins."

Getting up before four in the morning wasn't difficult for Roy. After completely replacing sleep with Meditation, he only needed five hours of rest each night. But a weekly salary of 5.5 Crowns, which was only 22 Crowns a month, wasn't even enough for rent outside the city.

"Uncle Tross can't fool me just because I'm young and from out of town..." Roy pursed his lips. "10 Crowns a week... I can start working now."

"Young man, you can't just name your price. When I was thirteen or fourteen, I worked myself to death and still didn't earn this much in a month." Tross narrowed his eyes, his tone shifting. "How about this? I'll give you 7 Crowns a week, and I'll also cover one meal for you, at the grilled meat stall next door. I guarantee you won't find a better offer anywhere else."

Roy stared into the merchant's eyes. After a long time, as the other party was about to lose patience, he nodded. "Uncle Tross, shall we start counting from today? Tell me specifically what I need to do and what the current market prices for herbs are?"

Roy spent the entire morning at the herb stall, inquiring about the price of each herb.

Herb prices fluctuated frequently, so Tross recorded the latest information on a piece of parchment by the shelf every morning for him to refer to and memorize. He also taught him how to use the basic weighing tools and a few precautions.

Finally, Tross specifically instructed him to come before four in the morning to take over the shift and then let him go.

Roy continued to wander around the market. His work at the herb stall ended at eight in the morning, and he still had plenty of time to find another job.

The ideal job would be an apprentice butcher, gaining both Experience and Crowns. But as the miller outside the city had said, Edusburg was not Kaye Village, and the butchers here had no relation to him, so they wouldn't easily give benefits to outsiders.

Although he couldn't get a job slaughtering pigs and sheep outside the city, Roy set his sights on another similar job in the market – a vendor who specialized in processing live chickens, ducks, geese, and other poultry for the townspeople.

Poultry only yielded 1 Experience Point, which was one-fifth of ordinary livestock, but there were many of them.

The poultry processing stall was next to the wooden fence where livestock were kept. The owner was an old local man named Rul with white hair. After Roy shamelessly recommended himself and demonstrated his skilled cutting technique, cleanly dispatching a fat goose that was honking loudly, and removing its feathers, blood, and internal organs, Rul agreed to hire him.

However, the wages were extremely low: only 50 Copper Coins for every thirty poultry processed. But the amount of work was voluntary, and he could leave anytime he felt tired.

Roy didn't haggle. This strenuous job was mainly for Experience Points. According to old Rul, he had to process at least fifteen poultry every morning, which would be fifteen Experience Points. This was even higher than what Roy had risked his life for before.

This was the advantage of a big city: more opportunities and more ways to gain Experience, without always risking his life.

Roy breathed a sigh of relief, put down the dripping knife, and brushed off the messy poultry feathers all over his body. He had processed 20 "quackers" throughout the afternoon, gaining 20 Experience Points and proficiency in the Slaughter skill.

More importantly, he now had a foothold. Even without the Witcher's assistance, he could survive in this big city. In a few days, once his work stabilized, he would find a place to continue his studies.

Under the afterglow of the setting sun, Roy returned to the watermill outside the city. The smell of soil, grass, and falling leaves hit him, and he finally recovered from the stench of poultry droppings. A slight smile curved his lips, and his mood brightened.

About a hundred feet from the mill, Roy suddenly stopped, looking curiously into the distance.

Outside a dilapidated wooden warehouse, a group of boys and girls were gathered around a pile of dry grass and firewood. Their faces showed a meanness that didn't match their age, and they were pointing and sneering at a small figure sitting on the ground within the circle.

"You ugly freak, you look like a camel... You should have stayed hidden in the house instead of running around. Seeing you just ruins my appetite, how can I eat?!"

A tall, thin boy with a face full of dense freckles kept poking the person's hair with his index finger, spewing venomous words.

"Hmph! She's not a camel, camels are cute..." Another little girl with two pigtails and a delicate appearance, holding a forked branch in her chubby little hand, struck the person's bulging back heavily. The person flinched from the blow, wrapped their hands around their knees, and pressed their face tightly against them. "She's a monster... This thing inside is full of poisonous sewage. If she hates someone, she'll secretly poison their food... My grandma was definitely poisoned to death by her, and her own mother was poisoned to death by herself!"

"She's an old hag, a freak, that's what the books say. She curses people every day and casts evil spells. We should find a Witcher to deal with her... Only a mutant can deal with a freak."

"Wuwu..." The person in the middle suddenly sobbed.

"Ugly freak, monster, and you have the nerve to cry! You think we're bullying you!" The freckled boy suddenly slapped the back of her head. "We're doing what's right, like the Revolutionary Army, and she's a bad seed belonging to the Baron's side! Beat her!"

Some children pulled her hair, some kicked and punched her back, some whipped her with branches, and some threw stones and mud at her.

"Hey! You bunch of brats, what are you doing? Stop it!"

A loud shout suddenly came from not far away. The children who were causing trouble were startled and looked back. Without even seeing clearly, they scattered in all directions in a panic. In the blink of an eye, only the girl who was tightly hugging her knees remained.

Her old white apron was covered in footprints and mud. Under her brown hair, bruises and swelling could be seen on her neck.

"Your name is Toya, right? The miller's daughter. How are you feeling? Did those brats hurt you?" Roy walked over and squatted down beside her, extending his hand.

The hunchbacked girl merely turned her head to look at him, her eyes timid yet vigilant.

Two bright red slap marks appeared on her fair, small face, as if two buckets of dirty paint had been splashed onto an exquisite oil painting. The girl pressed her hands, covered in chilblains and calluses, against the ground. Silently, she pushed up her emaciated body, hunched over by her massive hump, and limped into the warehouse, closing the door.

Roy couldn't imagine what kind of life she lived to wear such an expression... but he felt he should do something for her. So, he took out the processed Marigold from his spatial storage, wrapped it in cloth, and placed it outside the door. "Toya, I've left some herbs outside for you. Just chew them up and apply them to your wounds later... Trust me, they work very well."

At the dinner table, Roy indignantly brought up the matter to the miller and his wife.

"I saw a bunch of brats bullying Toya. Five or six of them cornered her, pulled her hair, hit her with sticks, and slapped her face until it was swollen. Aren't you going to do anything about it?"

"Oh, little brother, you don't understand. That girl is tough. A few hits don't hurt her much, and it keeps her working obediently," Mana said, gnawing on a piece of greasy fatty meat, a look of weary acceptance on her plump face.

Roy gasped. There was no doubt in his mind that this fat woman was definitely a stepmother.

"I understand you mean well," Henk chimed in, "but we're just an ordinary family. We can't protect Toya like a princess, can we? That's just how the world is. With her looks, where would she go without people gossiping and talking behind her back? She needs to go through more setbacks and grievances, suffer more, for Toya to survive. It's been over ten years, and that girl is very strong now."

A little grievance and setback?

Roy finally understood. These two, who wouldn't even let Toya sit at the dinner table, didn't see her as a daughter at all. She was probably just free labor they could hit and scold as they pleased.

"Let's not talk about that girl. Little brother, you spent most of the day in town. Did you find a job?" Mana asked curiously, more interested in this question than in Toya.

"I did..."

Joy flickered in the couple's eyes. If his job was stable, then this kid would have the money to keep renting the room...

After dinner, Roy specifically went to check outside the warehouse door. He didn't see the Marigold and breathed a sigh of relief. When he returned to his room, he was surprised to find a fresh, thoroughly wiped apple on the water bucket in front of his door, with the blue cloth that had wrapped the herbs underneath it.

"Is this a return gift?"

He seemed to have found a way to communicate with the girl.