After a long, hot day of picking corn, I stood under the shade of a tree, gulping down water from a jug and exhaling in relief. It had been another exhausting day. Without anyone to provide for me, I knew if I didn't work, I'd starve. My body couldn't afford that—I was all skin and bones, even though the farm provided lunch, which I always ate as much of as I could.

As hungry as I always seemed to be, I still found moments of contentment. At least I wasn't a slave. Nobody owned me; I was a free man. I could leave this farm anytime if I wanted. But what would I do then? I didn't have any real skills. Sure, I could use a little mana and was decent at killing wolves, but I wasn't a soldier.

That wasn't even the worst part. What I really wished for was someone to guide me—a mother or father to tell me that all this work wasn't for nothing, that everything would be okay. I wanted a skill I could inherit from a father, something to make money with. But I didn't have any of that. All I had were my two hands and a mind filled with dreams.

I set down my leather jug, noticing how red it was from my hands. Cuts and bruises covered them, reminders of the risks I took just to survive. My whole body bore similar marks. "This work isn't meant for me," I said to Peter, the boy sitting next to me.

Peter, bigger and sturdier than I was, shrugged. "Me neither, man, but what can we do? This is all we've got. Cheap labor—that's our reality."

I nodded and asked, "Do you ever wonder what it'd be like if we had parents? Wouldn't it be nice?"

"No, it never crosses my mind," Peter replied nonchalantly.

"Really?"

"No, idiot. Of course it has. But what's the point? Thinking about it won't change anything," he said with a smirk before lying down in the dirt to cool off.

I watched him relax, knowing he'd complain later about having to clean up. I couldn't help but smile at the thought.

Suddenly, the lunch bell rang. Before I could stand, Peter darted off, shouting, "Hurry up, dreamer boy!"

By the time I reached the cafeteria, Peter was already seated with a plate full of pork, corn, and rice. I looked around at the other kids—Ken, David, Rebecca, and the twins, Ryan and Jacob. Rebecca was helping the younger boys settle in, while Alicia, as usual, was nowhere to be seen.

I took a seat, grabbing some food. The corn stung my cuts, but I didn't care—I was starving. Rebecca smiled at me. "Take your time; the food isn't going anywhere," she teased.

I pointed at Peter. "If I don't hurry, he'll eat mine."

Everyone laughed, watching Peter already reach for seconds.

Later, I headed back to my chores. Alicia showed up, looking more disheveled than usual, her eyes slightly red. It was the third time this week. I couldn't shake the feeling something was wrong.

As I walked outside, the sun hung low in the sky. I grabbed the buckets for water and started toward the river. The path was familiar, lined with towering trees that offered shade by day but turned menacing at night.

When I reached the river, its beauty struck me as always. The clear water shimmered, fish darting below the surface. For a moment, I felt a thrill at the sight of the untamed current. It was powerful and dangerous—just like the life I dreamed of living, someday.