Julian realized, with a sinking heart, that the stakes were rigged against them. The villagers didn't give a damn about the teaching positions—most lacked the literacy to qualify—but for the city youths, a classroom post was the only escape from the soul-crushing labor of the fields.

If they finished last, they wouldn't just lose their future; they’d be sentenced to a month in the fertilizer pits. Julian was already living that nightmare. It was a filthy, wretched existence that stripped a man of his dignity. In the past, he could have bribed a local to take his shifts, but his pockets were empty, and his family had cut him off. He was no longer a young master; he was just another beast of burden.

For the villagers, "fertilizer duty" was just another Tuesday. For the city elite, it was a death sentence for the soul.

"Can’t we change the penalty?" Julian asked, his eyes darting toward Seraphina. "She has a heart condition. If she’s pushed too hard, the consequences could be fatal."

Barrett’s brow furrowed into a knot of irritation. "Fine," he grunted. "Evelyn’s moved to the local team, so I’ll give you two new recruits to balance the numbers."

With a calculated bit of spite, Barrett assigned Mark and another sturdy young man to Julian’s group. He knew they were friends with Dominic—let them suffer together.

Mark: "..."

The rest of the original city team was scattered among the other groups. With the "dead weight" redistributed, the city youths could no longer claim Barrett was sabotaging them.

Dominic and his brothers were quietly thrilled. Losing Evelyn and gaining two "heavy lifters" seemed like a steal.

The two heavy lifters, however, were not amused. They looked at Julian’s team and saw a collection of fragile ornaments and "lay-abouts" who would inevitably drag them down.

"Move it!" Mark barked. "If we end up in those pits, I’m taking it out on all of you!"

Suddenly, Seraphina’s usual routine—I’m weak, but I’m trying—stopped working. In normal times, incompetence only cost a person their own wages. But in a competition, one person’s failure was everyone’s ruin.

As the sun climbed, the field became a theater of frantic motion. The city youths worked with a desperate, feverish energy. The long-handled sickles whistled through the air, felling great golden swaths of wheat with every swing.

Julian gripped his blade, stepped forward, and swung. Whish. A patch of wheat fell.

"Julian! You’re lagging!" Mark roared from ahead.

Julian gritted his teeth and pushed his muscles to the limit. Each swing sent a jolt of fire through his shoulders. He had thought he was doing well. He had expected Evelyn to see his sweat and recant her insults. But now, it wasn't Evelyn mocking him—it was his own peers. They saw him as a slacker. A liability.

He worked until his arms felt like lead, finally stopping to gasp for air.

Mark spun around, his face flushed with heat and rage. "Julian! You’re resting again? At this rate, we’re guaranteed to lose! Get your ass moving!"

Embarrassment burned hotter than the sun. "I’ve been working non-stop!" Julian shouted back, his voice cracking. "My arms are numb. I just stopped for a second—"

"I don't care if your arms fall off!" Mark snarled. "Work until you die, or work harder!"

While Julian and Mark traded barbs, Caleb’s temper—sharpened by youth and exhaustion—finally snapped. After Mark criticized him for the third time, Caleb didn't use words. He lunged.

Dominic looked over and nearly choked on his own bile. This was the harvest! Everything was supposed to give way to the grain. And here were his brother and his friend, brawling in the dirt like animals.

"Caleb!" Dominic’s voice was a ragged scream.

Barrett was even more furious. The town leadership was watching. He had been cursed with a group of city brats who were making him look like a fool in front of Mayor Adrian.

Under Barrett’s murderous glare, Caleb finally backed down and returned to his sickle, though his chest was still heaving with spite. Dominic hurried over to apologize to Mark, who was wiping blood from a split lip. Mark swiped Dominic’s hand away and turned his back. The bridge was burned; they were a team in name only.

Seraphina, meanwhile, had lost all interest in whether Evelyn was being scolded by the villagers. She was at the brink of collapse herself.

"I can't... my heart..." Seraphina gasped, clutching her chest. Her face turned a ghostly, translucent white.

Mabel panicked and waved Barrett over. The Chief looked at the scene and let out a long, weary sigh. "Fine. Take her to the woods to rest. She’s out of the competition."

A flicker of relief sparked in Seraphina’s eyes, but it was extinguished instantly by Barrett’s next words.

"But let it be known," Barrett announced, his voice carrying across the field. "From this moment on, Seraphina is excluded from all village benefits and future allocations. That includes the teacher positions."

"That’s not fair!" Seraphina cried, her voice thin and reedy. "I want to work! It’s not my fault I’m ill. I want a healthy body more than anyone!"

Barrett didn't even look back as he walked away. "Your health isn't the village's problem. You’re here to labor, not to convalesce."

For a split second, Seraphina’s fragile mask shattered. A look of pure, venomous hatred flickered across her features.

Mabel recoiled, startled. "Seraphina?"

The mask was back in an instant. "I’m fine... please, just help me to the trees."

Caleb came charging over. "Mabel, get back to work! I’ll carry her!"

Mabel didn't need to be told twice; she handed Seraphina over and fled back to the wheat.

"Seraphina, let me carry you," Caleb said, puffing out his chest.

"I can't let you do that," she murmured, eyes downcast. "You're already so tired."

"Nonsense," Caleb said, squatting down. "You’re light as a feather. I’ve got plenty of strength left."

As she climbed onto his back, Seraphina glanced toward Dominic and Julian. Neither had even looked up. A pang of resentment stung her as she rested her head on Caleb’s shoulder.

Caleb stood up, his knees wobbling instantly. Good God, she’s heavier than she looks, he thought, his face turning a dark shade of brick-red as he staggered toward the shade.

Adrian watched the spectacle from a distance. "What’s the situation with those two?"

Barrett, feeling like his reputation was bleeding out, rushed to explain. "A girl with a weak constitution, Mayor. She’s being taken to the shade to recover."

Adrian’s expression remained unreadable. "Competition is fine, but health is paramount. See that they don't overdo it."

Barrett nodded vigorously, though inwardly he was adding another black mark next to the names of the city youths. He’d find a way to make them pay for this embarrassment later.

At noon, the field fell silent. The workers retreated to the edge of the woods to eat their packed lunches. A large communal pot had been set up over a fire to heat water and food.

Seraphina, having been declared a "waste" in the fields, had been put on "logistics" duty—boiling water and heating lunchboxes for the workers.

Evelyn approached the fire carrying two lunchboxes. She looked at Seraphina, then at the bubbling water, and then at Adrian, who was sitting with the other officials nearby.

A dangerous, tempting idea began to take root in her mind. She knew exactly what Seraphina would try to do to her food. And she knew exactly how to make sure Seraphina was the one who got burned.