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Drug.

Satisfaction of the soul that ignites fantasy and vitality.

One point of finely crushed crystals (referring to 0.1g of methamphetamine, a slang used by Western criminals) is the source of power, and a single flake carefully scraped off with a clean razor blade is the source of clarity.

A satisfaction of the soul and a source of power. The green waves rolling over the vast land are the source of clarity, the fruits of the farmer’s blood and sweat.

That is indeed priceless.

“…Well then, it’s lunch time. Everyone stop working and head to the dining area!”

At the booming command, the farmers wiped their beads of sweat and straightened their backs.

“Is it already lunch?”

“Oh come on. The sun is high in the sky, and already? Can’t you see the fields over there? We still have a long way to go.”

“Take it easy now, take it easy. We’re all just trying to make a living here…”

The farmers exchanged idle banter as they walked out among the sprouting crops.

Behind them stretched a massive farm of 300 hectares in size.

This is the Punsoden sugar palm farm.

As the name suggests, the farm’s main product is the dampenaut, but in reality, it’s a place where opium, the primary raw material for heroin, is cultivated.

Why is opium grown disguised as an ordinary farm? This is entirely due to the unstable political situation on the Mauritania Continent, and a good example of this exists.

According to a report released by the UNODC (United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime) in 2023, Myanmar surpassed Afghanistan to become the world’s largest opium producer.

A coup d’état launched by a military that cannot accept the election results sparked pro-democracy protests. With merciless crackdowns and resistance from civic organizations and armed groups from minority ethnic groups, it was only natural for the embers of civil war to engulf Myanmar.

The drug trade thrived on the ashes of that chaos.

People who lost their jobs flooded the streets, while the military and paramilitary groups, aiming their guns at each other, needed funds. That was the seed sown amidst intricately interweaving interests. It spread all across Southeast Asia, reaching Central Asia, East Africa, and Europe.

The result was like this.

“Lunch is 30 minutes! After 10 minutes of rest, the afternoon group returns to work, while the morning group heads home!”

“Only 30 minutes to eat? Give me a break.”

“It’s not a one-time thing, so why are you complaining? Hurry up and take your spoon.”

“Forget it. I’m only working this morning.”

“Working in the afternoon doubles your pay, right? Why not just stay?”

“Ah, but I’m busy.”

The farmers earned quite a decent wage, albeit not as much as they had hoped.

“Ugh—so hot. Anything unusual at the post?”

“Except for the neighborhood kids causing trouble earlier.”

“Report it to the commander and radio down to send up the afternoon group. You go deliver the goods.”

“Again?”

“They told you to send it every two weeks.”

Armed gangsters raked in a decent profit from exports.

“Hey there! Delivery!”

“Oh, our Yayo is back! Did you send from the farm?”

“Yes!”

“Great job. Here, have some candy and go play with Aduke. And…”

“Don’t tell anyone, right?”

“Smart little kid, aren’t you? Such a cutie~”

“Hehe.”

The badge-wearing gangsters fill their pockets with tax money.

A castle made of white powder is a win-win situation for everyone, except for the families of drug addicts and the civil servants of the region ruined by drug influx—everyone else lives in a happy world.

And happiness and misfortune are separated by a thin line.

Episode 20 – Who Threatened with a Knife?

The cafe on Koonjojo Street could be called a landmark, without a doubt.

Coffee beans grown on the plains absorb the flavors of nature, providing a delightful aroma and taste. The menu, saturated with the pain of past colonial rule, fills the bellies of travelers from across the sea with a familiar sense of fullness, all at a reasonable price.

Is it just the food and drinks that are excellent?

No. If the mouth is delighted, the eyes and ears should also be pleased. And enjoying the beautiful scenery is a privilege reserved for window seats.

The window area, devoid of artificial glass, is not only a spot to savor coffee and meals but also a prime location to experience the noise of the road, the dust, and the gazes of pedestrians.

“Welcome!”

“Long time no see. I came for lunch.”

The farmer visited the cafe on Koonjojo Street. The cafe owner greeted him with a pleasant smile and moved towards the farmer, who was occupying a corner seat and quenching his thirst.

“What brings you here? You usually come during dinner.”

“Something came up.”

“Is it okay to skip work in the afternoon? You’ve been going to the farm every day lately; aren’t you pushing yourself too hard?”

“Just bring me some coffee.”

“Oh, of course! You’re a regular, after all! By the way, what about alcohol?”

The farmer simply shook his head without saying a word.

Waiting for a warm cup of coffee, he gazed out the window. However, even after the coffee arrived, he didn’t initiate any further conversation.

No orders were placed, and he didn’t move. He simply smoked in silence while sipping his coffee, looking as if he were waiting for someone.

“What are you doing? Staring into space all alone?”

“Just bored.”

The cafe owner tilted his head, puzzled by such a response, but even when asked, he received only the reply of “just passing time.”

It wasn’t the most satisfying answer, but there was no time to dwell on it. A truck arrived to deliver vegetables.

The cafe owner didn’t have time to ponder the question and hurried out to the back alley.

Then, a new customer entered the cafe.

The man who emerged from the alley looked around widely.

With one hand holding a phone, engaged in a conversation, he crossed the street and entered the main door.

There was no welcome for the new visitor, nor any staff to assist; yet the customer showed no sign of becoming flustered in front of the simply chaotic cafe.

He walked to a corner seat.

“Didn’t you say you were quitting smoking? Last time you said you would.”

“Honestly, it’d be easier to just end my life. How can you quit smoking?”

The ridiculous answer made the customer burst into laughter. The farmer gestured for him to take a seat.

“Is the farming going well?”

In response to the light question, the farmer nodded with a smile.

His expression even seemed to radiate a bit of pride.

“The yield is good. This time last year, I must have harvested at least three times as much.”

He expressed the size of the crops with the hand holding the coffee cup.

“They’re this big. Quite substantial, right?”

“You won’t have any worries about seeds for next year.”

The customer chuckled. The farmer, too, shared the sentiment with a smile.

“I think we’ll gather quite a bit. By now, we’re almost done with packaging.”

“I saw a line of trucks heading your way recently.”

“Was it the truck that came eight days ago? If so, it was probably bananas leaves bought from the farm.”

The farmer began to recount tales he heard from the skilled human-dwarf hybrids.

“Banana leaves are used for packaging. According to the workers, they wrap it all up in that. Once production transfers, they have to be rolled up and loaded immediately. The guards are all pushing for it too, you know…”

The customer listened quietly to the tale. Even as the farmer grumbled, he merely nodded, offering no interjections or questions.

While he remained silent, many stories were exchanged.

The farmer spilled out the facts he had learned, as if confessing. Some of it trivial, and some of it significant. Of course, from the farmer’s point of view.

“Yeah. But that girl, it turns out, has her eyes on another guy…”

“Hey, if you walk a bit west from our farm, there’s that abandoned barn, right? Well, it’s actually been a pharmacy making ‘painkillers’ for ages. You can find empty oil barrels, stacks of firewood, abandoned hydrochloric acid containers, and pipes lying around there. It’s been left alone for years, so no one uses the place. But a delivery guy mentioned that the workers on the production side were wandering around that barn at the crack of dawn a few days ago.”

“Now, this is just a rumor, but… there are whispers that the farm manager is passing ‘rubber’ to the goblins. You know, those green-skinned troublemakers waving red flags and shouting about revolutions. Apparently, he sneaks them some of the stuff they produce. They said he hid it in his wife’s skirt when leaving, while we have to strip down and get yelled at, ‘Is there anything hidden?’ after working all day in the blazing sun… I can’t even comprehend how outrageous that is.”

The customer listening quietly spat out.

“So? What’s the higher-ups saying?”

“Tsk… You think they’d pay attention to rumors flying around among the dirt-playing fools?”

The farmer licked his lips and added.

“I heard that they’re coming to check out the farm in a couple of days, but I doubt they’re coming to scold the manager.”

“Who’s coming?”

“That guy with the big belly, waddling around with his belly on the belt.”

Ah, that commander.

The customer muttered as if he understood.

After a moment of grumbling, whether it was in sorrow or dissatisfaction, the farmer lowered his hands beneath the table. It seemed like he had something to say.

“Umm… Sir? I have something to discuss with you.”

The farmer’s anxious gaze flicked towards the customer. However, the latter was not even giving him a glance.

Should I say it, or should I back off?

The dilemma took a while.

But no matter how much he thought about it, there was only this path left.

“Actually, I have some issues, so I might not be able to help any longer.”

When the farmer, fumbling in the uncomfortable silence, finally spoke, the customer immediately reached into his pocket.

He pulled out his mobile phone.

Wait a minute. The customer raised his hand for understanding and glanced at his phone. After tapping the keys for a while, he put the phone away and raised his eyebrows.

“What did you just say?”

“I think I need to quit my job….”

“Oh, right. That’s what you said.”

He dragged out the last word as if singing. One hand propped up his chin, and the other was tapping on the table.

“Got some issues and need to quit. Sure, that can happen. I totally understand….”

The customer chuckled as he tapped the table.

“What kind of issue does a farmer growing poppies under a warlord possibly have?”

“…”

“Isn’t it not even your farm? You’re just a worker there. If you’re sick, take a break. If you’re tired, it’s no big deal to miss a day. Nobody’s gonna say anything if you skip afternoon work for a coffee, right?”

Unless that’s not the case.

Well.

“Aren’t you afraid someone might catch you slip some cash in your pocket?”

There was no answer.

Only silence.

Despite the sleepy stare directed at him, the farmer couldn’t meet his gaze. More accurately, he couldn’t do so.

“Really, man… did someone hold a knife to your throat and force you to work in the opium farm? Tsk.”

“…”

The customer clicked his tongue, sounding pitying, and pulled something out of his bag.

It was a rather thick envelope.

“Payment for your trouble.”

The customer slid the envelope towards the farmer.

“I added a bit more, so you shouldn’t feel shortchanged.”

The farmer hesitated for a moment, then peeked into the envelope and opened his jacket.

This amount was at least six times the daily wage for harvesting poppies from 5 AM to 12 PM today. There was no reason to refuse, and it wasn’t easy to do so either.

After the bills disappeared into his coat, the customer took a puff of his cigarette and suggested to the farmer.

“In two days, when that guy from the farm arrives, contact me directly. In the morning of that day, I’ll wire 2000, and once confirmed, I’ll send over another 4000 right there.”

“Will you really give that much?”

“Of course. He has a family. If he wants to send his kid abroad, he has to save up, right?”

Well, even 4000 is still a long way off.

The customer added, smiling as if it were no big deal. He even patted the farmer on the back.

“See you next time.”

With that farewell, the customer walked away swiftly.

The farmer lingered in the corner, smoking a cigarette for a while. Then suddenly, as if realizing something, he sprang up.

“Who should I tell about that….”

He hurriedly leaned out the window with no glass, but the figure he was searching for had vanished without a trace.

*

Exiting the main road, the man turned into an alley.

Holding his briefcase in one hand, he dragged his feet along wearily.

With the mobile phone pressed against his ear.

“Yes, it’s me. I just confirmed with the client. The intelligence about inspecting the Punsoden farm in two days, including Zimbanya-Gulhamre, is correct.”

-‘Great job. It’s definitely a target inspection, right?’

“Ah, why are you acting like this again? The intelligence team and I have checked this several times… this time, we can definitely catch them, so please keep your worries at bay. Make sure the federal agents are well-prepared. Please! If they charge in without knowing about the undercover agents like last time, it’s going to be a disaster for us!”

-‘Yes… understood. Is there anything unusual?’

“Sigh… The client rep is throwing a fit about not wanting to work, so I soothed him for now. But I doubt it’ll last long, so….”

-‘Already? There’s still quite a bit of time until the cut-out, though.’

“What can I do if he says he can’t do it? It’s not like it was a long-term deal anyway, just take the goods this time and cut ties.”

-‘If the officer managing the information source feels that way, then so be it. I’ll report to headquarters, so be sure to return promptly.’

“By the way, Deputy? I’m also quite busy, so it would be great if you could set a return date for me….”

-‘…Wait a moment. I have an urgent call. Sorry!’

“Hello? Honey, you… you son of a—”

The obscene curse came right after the call was cut off.

The man stared at his phone with a dazed expression. His hands trembled, and his face was so pale it looked white.

Smash!

The screen shattered into pieces, startling the rats into a frenzied retreat.

“This is just too much, damn it!”

Unable to hold back, the man unleashed a string of curses.

“Someone send me home, you bastards!”

Colonel Frederick Nostrim.

It had been three months since he had been sold around the Mauritania Continent in place of his younger sister.

Even after nearly 100 days, he was still stuck in the desert.

 

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