631
In Pritz Harbor, a young man with black hair, black eyes, a thin face, and a monocle rode a bicycle back to his doorstep, wobbling along at his leisure.
With an obvious smile, he opened the mailbox and took out the newspapers and letters inside.
After entering the house, the young man pinched the monocle over his right eye, opening envelopes and reading their contents as he walked, until he found an unsigned letter:
"If all of us in Backlund lose contact, that means Pallez Zoroast is very likely hiding near Böklund Street in the North Borough.
"Don't ask us why we took the risk. Life always needs a little excitement, fun, and anticipation."
Wearing a local-style flower-trimmed straw hat, a local Tabara shirt, and a jacket, Amon bent over and watched intently as the brown-skinned locals dug tiny blue-green crabs, each only a quarter of a palm in size, out of the sand and seawater, putting them into the baskets they carried on their backs.
The people digging for crabs were all alive. (Emphasis.)
This small seaside city, which could be explored in half a day by bicycle, had yet to fully implement all aspects of the "Regulations on the Reemployment of Dead Creatures." The newly built Death Church did not yet have a roof, and there was only one Sequence 7 and a few ordinary people inside.
The undead creatures they summoned were normally only enough to maintain public order. If they brought in more creatures to participate in production, that Sequence 7 would run out of spirituality.
Taking part in this sort of farm-stay activity certainly offered a sense of novelty. Although following humans around doing inefficient things was boring most of the time, discovering some genuinely good food through these activities was certainly encouraging.