That night, alone behind bolted doors and shuttered windows, Evelyn turned on her radio. As the hum of the news filled the small room, she reached into her spatial storage and began pulling out the day’s "spoils."

She opened the biscuit tin first. Inside was seventy-some dollars in cash and a handful of ration coupons for grain and bathhouses, though meat coupons were scarce.

The canvas bag, however, was a true windfall. It held $380 in cash, a bicycle permit, cloth coupons, and more. At the bottom sat a square sandalwood box. Evelyn opened it to reveal a lining of crimson silk cradling a jade bracelet of exceptional quality. She let out a sharp, derisive scoff. She recognized this piece—she had seen it on Seraphina’s wrist in her past life. Back then, she hadn't known it was a gift from Julian.

Seraphina’s own stash was meager—less than forty dollars and a few loose coupons for sugar and grain.

Adding it all to the hundred-plus dollars from the initial wallet, Evelyn did the math. Her "earnings" from the group totaled $631.75, along with over fifty pounds of grain rations, five pounds of meat coupons, several pounds of oil and cotton rations, a bicycle permit, and tobacco coupons. While Evelyn tallied her growing fortune, a few miles away, Dominic and the others spent the night tossing and turning in fitful sleep.

The hammer fell the next morning. Barrett handed down his sentence: Julian, Dominic, and Caleb were assigned to fertilizer duty for an entire month.

In the village, hauling "night soil" was the grimmest of chores, usually rotated among the men. Now, the burden sat solely on their shoulders. Beyond the stinging public ridicule, there was the visceral reality of the job—they quite literally had no idea how to do it.

Julian’s face was a mask of simmering fury. Caleb, however, hit his breaking point instantly. "I won't do it! I refuse!" he shrieked.

"Refuse and you don't get paid," Dominic said flatly. "And if you don't get paid, you don't eat."

Desperate, Caleb scrambled to the village phone to beg his parents for a rescue. But the family finances were stretched thin, and his father’s voice was cold as he explained that no help was coming. Caleb hung up looking like a ghost.

Julian fared no better. Before he could even begin his grievance, his father, Arthur, unleashed a torrent of abuse through the receiver. He was told to keep his head down and stop antagonizing Evelyn. The scandal of the broken engagement had been suppressed for now, but Arthur warned that if Julian’s "moral failings" were dragged into the light, he would be ruined.

When Julian tried to call back, Arthur gave him the final blow: Adrian had strictly forbidden the family from sending Julian a single cent. If they disobeyed, Adrian would wash his hands of Julian’s future entirely. Julian was livid. His cousin hadn't lifted a finger to help him, yet he was now actively strangling his lifeline.

They had spent a dollar on the calls and hadn't recouped a penny.

A cold panic settled in Caleb’s chest. Was he truly expected to survive on his own? Julian, meanwhile, felt a wave of revulsion at his father’s command to grovel for Adrian’s favor. But without family support, could he even survive this wasteland?

They looked like wilted cabbage leaves. Seraphina tried to rally them, her voice a fragile chime of encouragement. "Evelyn is just a girl and she’s thriving here. I know you can do the same."

Dominic offered a bitter, inward smile. Seraphina didn't understand. Life here was only bearable with a safety net. For years, he had avoided the worst of the labor because of his family’s subsidies. To work a full shift now? It would strip the skin from their bones.

At the latrines, the stench was a physical blow. Julian and Caleb doubled over, retching until they were bringing up nothing but bile. Julian staggered under the weight of the yoke, his buckets only half-full, his face turning a sickly shade of purple.

As they labored, Evelyn and Tess appeared on the path.

In the midst of the putrid air, with his boots caked in emerald-green sludge, Julian looked up to find Evelyn watching him. The embarrassment hit him like a physical strike; his legs felt weak, and his face went from pale to a bruised, ashen blue.

Evelyn wanted to laugh, and so she did. She knew Adrian had made his move. With their families cutting them off and Barrett holding the whip, their lives were about to become a living hell. Did they think this was bad? It was a pittance compared to the years of misery they had inflicted on her in the past.

"Are you enjoying this?" Julian spat, his voice trembling with shame.

Evelyn didn’t bother to hide her amusement. "The great Master Julian , hauling night soil in the mud? Yes, I’d say it’s a fair bit of comedy."

Tess let out a raucous laugh beside her. "Master? He’s a stick-in-the-mud! Look at those buckets—he’s carrying less than I do!"

Julian gritted his teeth. "Evelyn!"

"Watch it!" Tess barked, pulling Evelyn back. "Don't you dare splash that filth on us. Move along! You’re stinking up the whole road!"

Julian shook with rage, his buckets swaying dangerously. Behind him, Dominic hissed a warning. "Steady! If you spill a drop, Barrett will add another week to our sentence!"

Julian clamped his jaw shut and steadied himself. He had never known a day of such suffocating humiliation.

As Evelyn passed Caleb, she saw his buckets were even lighter than Julian’s. Tess’s voice dripped with disdain. "Is this a joke? Are you even a man? You're carrying barely a thimbleful!"

Caleb had been holding his breath so long he was turning red. Tess’s mocking caused him to gasp, drawing in a lungful of the foul air. He keeled over, dry-heaving until tears streamed down his face.

"I’m going to tell the accountant," Tess muttered as she led Evelyn away. "Giving people like them full credit for a day's work is a waste of good grain."

By lunch, the stench had followed them home. Seraphina had prepared a meal, but with no meat coupons left, it was a meager spread of vegetables—vegetables that technically belonged to Dominic.

Since Julian and Caleb were new and hadn't earned their keep yet, they had no claim to the rations. Dominic had been forced to pay the collective a dollar just to cover their extra mouths.

Seraphina sat at the table, her face pale as the wafting scent of the latrines clung to the men. Her practiced smile was nowhere to be found.

"Maybe..." she whispered, her stomach turning as she looked at their filth-streaked clothes. "Maybe you should go wash up first?"

Trying to eat in that room felt like trying to have a banquet in the middle of a cesspool.