Evelyn hadn't clawed and maneuvered to drag this lot to the countryside just so they could enjoy the scenery. She had brought them here to break them.

Seraphina was panting heavily, her chest heaving, but her eyes burned with a sharp, frantic light. "Evelyn! You’re going too far! We’ve only just arrived, and none of us have ever seen a harvest. It’s natural to be slow. We aren't doing this on purpose, and it certainly isn't Julian’s fault alone. Just because he broke off the engagement doesn't give you the right to—"

"Seraphina! That’s enough!" Dominic barked, his face dark with warning.

But Seraphina was past the point of caution. Disheveled and trembling with indignation, her eyes welled with tears. "Why shouldn't I say it? She’s the one in the wrong! We admit we're slow, but what right does she have to single Julian out? By what authority does she question our character or call us lazy? We weren't born for farmwork. We’re learning! We’re trying our best..."

Caleb immediately jumped into the fray. "Exactly! Who are you to question our 'ideology'? You’re just a bitter, narrow-minded woman. It’s no wonder Julian dumped you. You deserve every bit of this!"

Dominic felt a migraine blooming behind his eyes. "Caleb! For the love of God, shut your mouth!"

Barrett strode over, his expression grim. He had no patience for their theatrics; he had been watching this group slack off all morning. He knew the difference between a struggling novice and someone simply "laying flat"—waiting for others to shoulder their burden.

"What’s the shouting about?" Barrett roared. "Evelyn is a city girl too, and she’s outworking every one of you! She’s faster, cleaner, and more efficient."

"Instead of feeling ashamed that you’re being outpaced, you stand here making excuses as if your incompetence is a point of pride!"

"You lack ability? Fine. But you’re proud of it? You think you’re special?"

As Barrett’s tirade echoed across the field, Caleb opened his mouth to retort, but Dominic grabbed his arm and jerked him back. "Shut. Up."

"Evelyn, you’re moving," Barrett announced, pointing toward the villagers’ section. "Go join that group."

Dominic’s face paled. "Barrett! Evelyn is from the city. Putting her in with the locals isn't right. She’ll only drag them down."

He knew Evelyn was capable, but the villagers worked at a punishing, professional pace. If she held them up, the backlash from the locals would be brutal.

Caleb, fueled by spite, sneered, "She hates our group so much? Let her go! Let her see how she fares with the real workers. She’ll find out exactly how much she’s actually worth soon enough."

Seraphina remained silent, her eyes flickering with a hidden hope. If Evelyn was humiliated and cursed at by the villagers for being a burden... the thought brought a cold sense of satisfaction to her heart.

Barrett had actually intended to help Evelyn—he had seen that even her own brothers wouldn't lift a finger to defend her. But Dominic had a point; the physical toll of the villagers' pace would be grueling.

Before the Chief could second-guess himself, Evelyn stepped forward. "Barrett! I’m going. Right now."

Barrett nodded, issued a final warning to Dominic’s team to pick up the pace, and led Evelyn away. As they walked, Evelyn leaned in and whispered a suggestion to him—a way to turn the harvest into a high-stakes race.

Barrett’s eyes widened, and then he let out a booming laugh. "That’s a brilliant idea!"

He placed Evelyn with Tess and a few other local girls. It was a kind gesture; they were her friends.

Tess puffed out her chest protectively. "Don't you worry, Evelyn. I’ll pick up the slack. You just go at your own pace!"

"We can move faster to cover you," Meda and Elara added warmly.

A rare wave of warmth washed over Evelyn’s hardened heart. "I’ll do my best. I won't let the team down."

Adrian, as Mayor, was following the new directive for cadres to "go deep into the masses." Every harvest, the town officials were expected to get their hands dirty alongside the people.

When he arrived at the fields, he saw Barrett dealing with the city youths. He sent his secretary to quietly gather the details. When he heard what had happened, his eyes clouded with a dark, simmering shadow. He looked at the city boys—their laziness was a blight on the district.

When Barrett announced the "Harvest Competition," Adrian stepped in to raise the stakes. He added a bicycle permit and twenty dollars in cash to the grand prize. At his suggestion, the town leadership split up to join different teams, turning the chore into a full-blown tournament.

Deep in the sea of gold, Evelyn was bent double, her fingers flying as she bound the wheat. Her hair was matted with sweat, sticking in damp strands to her face, and her fair hands were already raw and streaked with blood.

Adrian’s heart tightened as he watched her.

The news of the rewards spread like wildfire. The prizes were lucrative:

First Place: A bicycle permit and a full day of paid rest for the whole team.

Second Place: Ten dollars and a half-day of paid rest.

Third Place: Two pounds of meat coupons.

But the sting lay in the tail: The members of the last-place team would be barred from the upcoming selection for village teachers—a coveted, "clean" job everyone wanted.

The city youths erupted in protest. Mark was livid; they could work themselves to death and still never beat the seasoned peasants. "Barrett! This isn't fair! This is clearly targeted at us!"

"Our group has several newcomers," Dominic added desperately. "We’re practically guaranteed to be last."

"It’s a dictatorship! It’s blatant discrimination!" the voices rose in a chorus of outrage.

Barrett remained unmoved. "The harvest treats everyone the same. If you have the strength and the will, you win. It’s like the teacher positions—you have the education, so you have the right to compete for them. Do the villagers cry 'unfair' because they weren't taught to read? No. They accept their reality."

"If you lack the muscle to work, who is to blame but yourselves?"

The city youths fell silent, their faces flushed with a mix of greed for the prizes and fear of the consequences.

"One more thing," Barrett added, his voice dropping an octave. "The last-place team won't just lose the teacher slots. Every member will be assigned to fertilizer duty for a month. And yes—that includes the 'Elderly and Children's' team."

Mark and his friends swallowed hard. They were able-bodied men. If they were beaten by the elderly and the children... they wouldn't even have the face to cry "discrimination" anymore.