Ch.529Episode 20 – Who Threatened You with a Knife?

# Drugs.

The soul’s satisfaction that burns fantasy and vitality.

One point of finely crushed crystal (Western criminals’ slang for 0.1g of methamphetamine) is the source of power, and a flake cut with a clean razor blade is the source of clarity.

The satisfaction of the soul, the source of power. The green waves rolling across that vast land are the source of clarity and the fruit of farmers’ blood and sweat.

That is true treasure.

“Alright, it’s lunchtime. 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 lunchtime already?”

“Come on, man. The sun’s high in the sky. See that patch of land over there? We’ve still got plenty to do.”

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

The farmers exchanged trivial banter as they walked out from between the sprouting crops.

Behind their backs of various sizes stretched an enormous farm covering 300 hectares.

This was the Punsoden Sugar Palm Plantation.

As the name suggests, the plantation’s main product was supposed to be sugar palm, but in reality, it was a place for cultivating opium, the primary raw material for heroin.

Why was opium being grown under the guise of an ordinary plantation? This stemmed entirely from the unstable political situation in the Mauritanian continent, and there happened to be a good example.

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

A coup staged by the military that refused to recognize election results. The pro-democracy protests it triggered. There was brutal suppression, and civilian groups and armed ethnic minority forces resisted—the sparks of civil war naturally engulfed Myanmar.

The drug industry fed on those very ashes.

People who lost their jobs flooded the streets, and the military and paramilitary groups pointing guns at each other needed funding. Seeds were sown amid these curiously aligned interests, spreading throughout Southeast Asia to Central Asia, East Africa, and Europe.

The result was this.

“Mealtime is 30 minutes! Take a 10-minute break, then the afternoon shift returns to work, and the morning shift goes home!”

“We’re supposed to eat in just 30 minutes? Give me a break.”

“It’s been like this every day, so why complain? Just pick up your spoon.”

“Forget it. I’m only working the morning shift today.”

“But you get double pay for the afternoon shift. Why not stay?”

“Nah, I’m busy.”

The farmers earned a decent daily wage, though not as much as they’d hoped.

“Whew, it’s hot out here. Everything quiet at the checkpoint?”

“Nothing except some local kids who got scolded for playing ball earlier.”

“Report to the commander and radio down to send up the afternoon shift. You go order some deliveries.”

“Again?”

“They said every two weeks, remember?”

The armed thugs made good profits from exports.

“Mister! Delivery!”

“Oh, our little Yayo is here! Did they send you from the farm?”

“Yes!”

“Good, good. I’ll give you candy, so go play with Aduke. And…”

“Don’t tell anyone, right?”

“You’re such a smart kid. You cute little thing~”

“Hehe.”

The badged thugs lined their pockets with taxes.

A castle made of white powder was good for everyone involved.

It was practically a happy world for all—except for the drug addicts’ families and the officials in regions devastated by drug influx.

And the line between happiness and unhappiness is razor-thin.

## Episode 20 – Who Threatened You with a Knife

The café, a landmark of Kunzojo Street, could rightfully be called a true icon.

Coffee beans grown in the great plains retain nature’s full flavor, offering a pleasant aroma and taste. The menu items, infused with the pain of a difficult colonial past, fill travelers’ hungry stomachs with a somehow familiar satisfaction, while the affordable prices are considerate of light wallets.

Are only the food and drinks excellent?

No. If the mouth is pleased, then the eyes and ears should be equally delighted. And enjoying good scenery is the privilege reserved for window seats.

The window seats, without even artificial glass panes, were prime spots where one could taste not only coffee and meals but also the street noise, dust, and gazes of pedestrians.

“Welcome!”

“It’s been a while. I’m here for lunch.”

The farmer visited the café on Kunzojo Street. The café owner greeted him with a welcoming expression and approached the farmer who was refreshing himself in a corner seat.

“What brings you here? You usually only come in the evenings.”

“Something came up.”

“Is it okay to skip the afternoon shift? I’ve been wondering if you’re pushing yourself too hard, suddenly going to the farm every day lately.”

“Just give me some coffee.”

“Oh, of course! Anything for a regular! By the way, would you like some alcohol?”

The farmer silently shook his head.

While waiting for a hot cup of coffee, the farmer looked out the window. But even after the coffee arrived, he didn’t start any conversation.

No orders, no movements.

He simply smoked cigarettes silently and sipped his coffee, looking like someone waiting for another person.

“What are you doing? Just staring blankly into space by yourself.”

“Just bored.”

The café owner tilted his head in confusion, but when he asked, the only answer he got was “killing time.”

It wasn’t a particularly satisfying answer, but he had no time to dwell on it. A truck had just arrived to deliver vegetables that were running low.

The café owner went out to the back alley without time to ponder his questions.

And a new customer visited the café.

*

The man who emerged from the alley looked around carefully.

With a phone in one hand, talking to someone, he crossed the main street and entered through the front door.

There was no welcoming staff to greet the new visitor, but the customer didn’t seem at all flustered by the complex café layout despite the lack of guidance.

He walked to the corner seat.

“I thought you were quitting smoking? You said you would last time.”

“It would be easier to end my life than to quit smoking. How could I possibly quit?”

The visitor burst into laughter at the absurd response. The farmer offered him a seat.

“How’s the farming going?”

At this casual question, the farmer nodded with a smile.

It was an expression that even hinted at pride.

“The harvest is good. We’ve collected at least three times more than this time last year.”

He used his hand, which had been holding the coffee cup, to indicate the size of the crops.

“The pods are this big. Quite thick.”

“Well, you won’t have to worry about seeds for planting next year.”

The visitor chuckled. The farmer also laughed in agreement.

“I think we’ll collect quite a lot. By now, they should have almost finished packaging.”

“I saw trucks heading that way in a line recently.”

“The trucks from nine days ago? If that’s what you’re referring to, they were probably banana leaves purchased by the farm.”

The farmer began reciting what he had heard from the skilled human-dwarf hybrids.

“Banana leaves are used as wrapping paper. The packaging workers told me they wrap the products in them. Once production hands them over, they immediately roll them up and load them. The guards rush them so much that, well…”

The visitor listened quietly to the story. Even when the farmer grumbled, he just nodded without making any comments or asking questions.

While he remained silent, many stories were exchanged.

The farmer confessed everything he had discovered, down to the smallest detail. Some things were trivial, others were important facts. By the farmer’s standards, of course.

“One of the security chiefs has promised to marry a village girl. But that girl has apparently fallen for another man…”

“You know, if you walk west from our farm, there’s an abandoned cattle shed? That place used to be an apothecary where they made ‘painkillers.’ If you go there, you can still see empty oil drums, piles of firewood, abandoned hydrochloric acid containers, and water pipes, but it’s been abandoned for years and nobody uses it. However, according to the delivery person, production workers were wandering around that cattle shed yard in the early dawn a few days ago.”

“This is just a rumor I’m not sure about… They say the farm manager is passing ‘rubber’ to the goblins. You know, those greenskins with red flags talking about revolution. Rumor has it he’s secretly diverting some of the production to them. Apparently, he hid it under his wife’s skirt to smuggle it out. Meanwhile, we’re working under the scorching sun, and after work, they push us into the stream and strip us naked to check if we’re ‘hiding anything.’ The hypocrisy is just unbelievable.”

The visitor, who had been listening quietly, finally spoke up.

“So? What did the higher-ups say?”

“Well… Would they listen to rumors circulating among dirt-diggers?”

The farmer clicked his tongue and added:

“I heard someone from above is coming to inspect the farm tomorrow or the day after, but I doubt they’re coming to scold the manager.”

“Who’s coming?”

“You know, that guy with the protruding belly resting on his belt.”

“Ah, that commander.”

The visitor murmured in understanding and nodded.

After finishing what seemed like either lamentations or complaints, the farmer lowered both hands under the table. He appeared to have something to say.

“Um… sir? I have something to tell you.”

The farmer’s anxious gaze briefly turned toward the visitor. However, the other party didn’t even look at him.

Should he speak, or should he back down?

The deliberation was long.

But no matter how much he thought about it, there seemed to be no other way.

“Actually, due to personal circumstances, I don’t think I can help you anymore.”

As the farmer finally managed to speak in the uncomfortable silence, the visitor immediately put his hand in his pocket.

He took out his mobile phone.

Raising his hand to ask for a moment, he looked at his phone. After tapping on the keyboard for a while, he put the phone back in his pocket and raised his eyebrows.

“What did you say earlier?”

“I said I need to quit this job…”

“Ah, right. That’s what it was.”

The trailing end of his words, hummed as if singing. One hand stroking his chin, the other tapping on the table.

“You have personal circumstances and want to quit. I see. That can happen. I understand, but…”

The visitor who had been tapping the table smiled gently.

“What personal circumstances could a farmer growing poppies under a warlord possibly have?”

“……”

“It’s not even your farm, right? You’re just working there for wages. If you’re sick, you can rest for a while; if you’re tired, you can skip a day. No one says anything when you skip the afternoon shift to drink coffee.”

If not that.

Well.

“Are you afraid of getting caught with a secret stash in your pocket?”

There was no answer.

Only silence.

Even though the half-open eyes were directed at him, the farmer didn’t meet the gaze. More precisely, he couldn’t.

“Seriously, man… Who threatened you with a knife to work at an opium farm? Tsk.”

“……”

The visitor clicked his tongue briefly as if in pity and took something out of his bag.

It was an envelope of considerable thickness.

“For your trouble.”

The visitor pushed the envelope toward the farmer.

“I put in a little extra, so you shouldn’t feel shortchanged.”

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

This amount was at least six times more than the daily wage he would receive for harvesting poppies from 5 AM to noon at the farm today. There was no reason to refuse, nor was it easy to do so.

After the bills disappeared into his breast pocket, the visitor lit a cigarette and made a proposal to the farmer.

“The day after tomorrow. When that guy arrives at the farm, contact me immediately. I’ll send you 2,000 in the morning, and as soon as it’s confirmed, I’ll transfer 4,000 right then and there.”

“Y-you’ll give me that much?”

“It’s nothing. You have a family. You need to save up if you want to send your son to study abroad like he wants.”

Well, 4,000 is still far from enough.

The visitor added with a smile as if it were nothing. He even patted the farmer’s shoulder.

“See you next time.”

With that farewell, the visitor swiftly departed.

The farmer continued to sit in the corner smoking for a while afterward. Then, as if suddenly realizing something, he kicked his chair back.

“Who did he tell that story to…”

He hurriedly stuck his head out the glassless window, but there was no sign of the person he was looking for.

*

The man who left the main street moved into an alley.

Carrying a briefcase in hand, trudging along with heavy steps.

With a mobile phone pressed to his ear.

“It’s me. I just confirmed with the contact. Two days from now at the Punsoden farm. The intelligence about him coming for inspection via the Jimbenia-Gulamr road was correct.”

-“Good work. Are you sure the target is really coming for inspection?”

“Why are you doing this again? How many times have the intelligence team and I confirmed this… This time we can really catch him for sure, so stop worrying. Please make sure the federal government people are properly prepared. I’m begging you. If they stick their heads out without realizing there’s a mole planted like last time, we’ll be the only ones in deep shit.”

-“Yes… I understand. Any unusual developments?”

“Sigh… The contact is throwing a tantrum about not wanting to work, but I managed to soothe him for now. But since he’s just a temporary replacement, I don’t think we can use him for long…”

-“Already? There should be quite some time left until the cut-out.”

“What can I do if he says he can’t handle it? It wasn’t going to be a long-term relationship anyway, so let’s just receive this one piece of intelligence and end the deal.”

-“If that’s what the handler says about his informant, so be it. I’ll report to headquarters, so make sure you return on time.”

“By the way, Deputy Director? I’m a busy person too, so perhaps you could set a return date for me soon…”

-“Uh, just a moment. There’s an urgent call coming in. Sorry!”

“Hello? Hello, you son of a—”

The vulgar curse followed immediately after the call ended.

The man looked at the phone with a blank expression. His hands were trembling, and his face had turned from red to pale white.

Crack!

As the screen shattered into pieces and startled rats began scurrying away at the loud noise.

“Isn’t this going too far, damn it!”

The man, unable to contain his anger, let out a string of colorful curses.

“Send me home, you bastards!”

Frederick Nostrim.

It had been three months since he was sent all over the Mauritanian continent in place of his younger sister.

Even as a full 100 days were about to pass, he was still unable to escape the desert.