She Is Not a Witch

While Loranhil was engrossed in researching new things, Melu swiftly swept away the family’s differences with lightning speed. At the banquet following that day’s meeting, the uncles and relatives of the family “voluntarily” handed over their rights and business operations, and were arranged by the main family to continue recuperating at the headquarters.

Teams of messengers and personnel set out from the Helis headquarters, heading to various branch offices. Massive personnel changes occurred in these branches, with some taken over by people sent from the main family, while others directly promoted unrelated personnel who had previously been marginalized. In an instant, the Helis family’s atmosphere was purified, as if cutting away excess fat, ready for action with a lighter load. The vacated positions also motivated previously unsuccessful staff, giving them hope. The entire merchant association was revitalized with new energy.

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Nisos family, winery.

Under the brick structure and wooden beams of the winery was a busy scene. Piled goods, neatly stacked barrels, and huge vats filled the space.

Some workers continuously brought in boxes of grapes and placed them on tables. A group of women and children then began sorting, removing unripe, small, rotten, moldy grapes and other debris.

Another group of people crushed the sorted grapes and put them into vats. The fragrance of fruit began to spread throughout the factory. The vats were filled with crushed grape fragments, skins, and juice.

Among them, a young boy was also working hard. He wore a mask and special gloves, constantly crushing grapes into a large bowl. When the bowl was full of crushed grapes, he would pour it into the vat. Several workers stood beside him, some old, some young, but he was the youngest.

These winery workers worked from morning until night, with only a one-hour break at noon. They usually had no days off, and if they took time off, they would inevitably have their pay docked. Although it was hard work, many people still flocked to it, after all, they could earn more than ten silver coins a month, which was much better than farming at home.

As evening approached, the boy felt tired and found an empty barrel to sit on while continuing to work.

“Bard,” a middle-aged woman nearby gestured for him to get down, not to sit.

The boy was confused, thinking his posture didn’t affect his work, but the woman continued.

“It doesn’t look good to work like that. People will gossip if they see it.”

She then told the boy to get down, warning him that if the manager saw it, he would probably say something like, “Are you that comfortable?”

With no choice, the boy obediently got off the barrel, stretched his sore legs and back, then continued working.

At night, huge candelabras were lit, illuminating the brick-built factory. Several employees hoisted the vats and poured them into giant filtering funnels lined with layers of gauze. The purple-red grape juice slowly flowed through the gauze filter.

When it seemed done, several employees gathered the gauze and squeezed out the remaining juice. Finally, they obtained a vat of relatively clear grape juice. After covering the vat and letting it settle, the group finally ended their shift.

“Are you done? Hurry up, Old Dela’s pancakes will be sold out if we’re late.”

One of the older men started urging. He was covered in stains, smelling of sweat mixed with grape juice—unpleasant, but no one mocked him because they were all the same.

“Wait, let me cover this properly, or old Abe will dock our pay tomorrow.”

“That old bastard is always nitpicking. Who’s he trying to impress?”

“Exactly, it’s not like the Nisos family pays him more. He’s just being disgusting, always finding ways to cut our pay.”

“Maybe he just likes that feeling. Haven’t you seen how he acts like a noble lord every time he inspects, so full of himself?”

“Alright, it’s done. Let’s go, we’ll have some meat tonight.”

“Huh, are you treating? I can’t afford it.”

“Don’t worry, it’s on me.”

“Hey, since when did you become so generous, Manda? Did something happen again?”

“Heh, you’ll see soon enough.”

Several winery workers left arm in arm, leaving only one night shift worker. He locked the door, extinguished most of the candles, leaving only a few for light. Then he took out some dry bread, softened it in hot soup, and after eating, he dozed off on the table. The night was still long.

Bard, who had worked in the factory during the day, dragged his tired body back to his lodging. This was a remote corner of Hopland, where dirt and squalor were the true portrait of the area. There were no lights at night, only the smell of garbage and dead fish from the street.

In the middle of a small square was a well. Not far away was a low house, with an old man leaning against the doorpost, his eyes half-closed, half-awake.

Bard went forward to draw some water. The wooden bucket was heavy; he could only pull up half a bucket.

Tightly gripping the rough rope, the thorns on it pricking his hands, he slowly raised the old, swaying bucket.

“What are you doing?” A hoarse voice sounded behind him, like a ghost. Bard was startled, his hand loosened on the rope, and the bucket plummeted rapidly, the rope burning his hand as it slid. He quickly grabbed the thick rope again before turning to look.

The old man leaning on the doorway had woken up. He stared at Bard with murky, dark yellow eyes, as eerie as a dead man.

“I… I’m drawing some water to drink, and to wash myself,” Bard said, trembling with fear.

“You… where do you live?” the old man continued to ask.

“I live in the red mud house behind the elm tree to the west. I just arrived a few days ago, introduced by Granny Nant,” the boy said nervously.

“Oh.”

The old man responded and closed his eyes, no longer paying attention to him.

Bard drank some water, then washed himself quickly before hurrying away.

The next day was payday. Bard had been working at this winery for two months, and this was his first month’s pay—12 silver coins.

He carefully wrapped the silver coins in the waistband of his clothes before heading back, but today was not as peaceful as usual.

Several men reeking of sweat and alcohol cornered Bard in an alley. They had planned this, waiting for the boy. Their leader was Manda, one of the workers from the winery.

“Kid, happy? You got paid today.”

Compared to the small-framed Bard, these grown men were quite tall. Standing together, they seemed to block out the sky.

Covered by the shadows of these men, Bard could only keep retreating until he was backed against a dusty wall.

“Be good, hand over the money, newcomer. It’s the rule, understand?” One of the burly men said. His skin was dark, his teeth yellow.

“No…” Bard was scared, but he didn’t want to give it up. This was money he had earned with great difficulty, working hard for a long time. He needed it to pay rent and buy food.

SLAP——

A slap sent Bard reeling, his whole body stunned. His face burned, then pain shot through his calf as someone kicked him, but he still managed not to fall down.

SLAP——

Another slap.

“You better wise up, you little shit.”

The others started tearing at his clothes, searching for where he had hidden the money.

Bard hugged himself tightly, slowly sliding down the wall to crouch on the ground. Curses rang in his ears, followed by continuous beating. A final heavy kick to his head knocked him unconscious.

When he woke up, it was already dark. His clothes and waistband had been torn open, and of the 12 silver coins, only 3 remained. He knelt on the ground, gripping the remaining coins one by one in his hand, his nails digging into his flesh. He wept quietly, hot tears streaming down his face and falling into the dust.