"Why would someone as young as you, Mr. Zion, decide to become a farmer?" Maria asked curiously as she ate, looking at Zion Chen.
"You're flattering me, ma'am. It may not look it, but I'm 32." Zion Chen swallowed the food in his mouth and replied with a smile. Having so many people call him 'young' was stroking his ego—not that he was old, but he was certainly no longer in the flower of his youth.
"My goodness! I would have sworn you were 22, 25 at the most!" Maria almost dropped her fork, shocked at how young the man before her appeared.
"As for why I'm a farmer? I like planting. I was a soldier... I saw a lot of conflict... and a short while ago, I was in a very bad accident..." He stopped eating as he spoke, his hand instinctively going to his injured leg.
"Life is unpredictable. I guess I've just come to terms with my situation. Now, I can't imagine myself anywhere else but living a quiet life in the countryside, far from trouble... and, of course, eating more of your wonderful food, hahaha!" With a look of genuine longing for this new life, he laughed, joking as he put another bite in his mouth.
"I admire your determination, Mr. Zion. Not everyone can hold onto their happiness after so much trouble." His words helped her understand the region's new resident, and she smiled, pleased by the compliment to her cooking.
"Grandma... the time is up..." the little girl's voice whispered, suddenly very close.
"Come and eat, you little rascal. Now, be polite to Mr. Zion Chen!" Maria replied, feigning annoyance. But her heart softened at the sight of the hungry girl. Having finished her own plate, she served Mia, who immediately began to devour the food, sitting closely beside her.
Watching the girl eat, Zion Chen observed the two of them side-by-side and noted the complete lack of resemblance.
"She's not my granddaughter by blood," Maria said, as if sensing his gaze, her hand stroking the girl's hair. Zion nodded, his suspicion confirmed.
"I have a small restaurant in the village. Since the land was large, I have an orphanage there as well." She chuckled as she watched Mia get food on her face, then gently wiped her mouth with a cloth napkin.
Watching this, Zion Chen's curiosity deepened. Having seen the true abyss of darkness in the human heart, he wanted to know more about this kindness, a thing he had so rarely witnessed.
"What led you to start an orphanage?" he asked, seeing the affection she had for the girl.
Hearing the question, Maria decided to talk a little about herself. It was only fair, after all. She ran a hand through her graying hair, a testament to her advanced age, and began to reminisce.
"I never had it easy. I've starved. I've lived on the city streets. It was hard, growing up and saving enough money to open my own restaurant in the capital, and a small orphanage there, too." She spoke with nostalgia in her eyes, as if she could see the small restaurant she had built with every coin she'd saved since she was young.
"I always wanted to be a chef. When I was starving, I'd look at those restaurants with such longing... My biggest dream was to open my own chain, to be known worldwide, to earn a spot on the list of the world's best!" Maria laughed at the thought of her old dream.
"But you know... just as you said, life truly is unpredictable. I never forgot the help an elderly couple gave me. They found me passed out from hunger in an alley. They brought me in, clothed me, and fed me. They shared the little they had. Because of them, I got clean and found my first job. From there, I worked until I could support myself and open that restaurant." She slowly ran her hands over her clean, tidy blue dress, as if remembering the rags she used to wear.
Zion Chen watched the old woman lose herself in her story, hanging on her every word.
"My restaurant became a huge success. I was famous in the city. But who would have known... on my way to receive my very first award, I found a child... passed out from hunger, just like I had been. I didn't even think. I just took him back to the restaurant to care for him. That day, the manager I'd hired called me, furious, and quit. My husband was pretty angry too, hahaha!"
Maria laughed again. There was no sadness or frustration in her eyes for the award she'd missed. On the contrary, a contagious joy radiated from her, calming Zion Chen's heart.
"Since that day, I could never leave a child on the streets. I always brought them home. I ended up setting my dream aside, just managing the restaurant with my husband's help to support the house and care for the children. Who would have thought, right? That little seed the elderly couple planted in me... it grew and replaced my own dream. Maybe I'm happier cooking for these children than I ever would have been being rich and famous."
She smiled warmly at Zion Chen. At that moment, the elderly woman exuded a satisfaction with life that he had rarely, if ever, witnessed.
"That's an incredible story, Ms. Maria. You're an inspiring woman. My own purpose might not be as noble as yours, but I hope my new, unexpected dream can bring me even a fraction of the satisfaction and happiness you've found." Zion Chen watched her, a new emotion in his eyes. This was exactly what he was looking for: this sense of peace with life that so few ever found.
They both laughed and continued to talk, feeling comfortable in each other's presence, while Mia Chen ran around the house, getting into trouble and earning several scoldings.
...
Time passed, and Zion Chen said goodbye to his visitors with a smile.
"I'm gonna come play here tomorrow!" Mia Chen shouted, waving back.
'She's already claimed my farm as her own,' he thought with a frown, which quickly turned into a small smile as he saw Maria give the girl a light smack on the head.
As the door closed, his smile slowly vanished. An emotionless mask took its place.
'Seriously? They found me on my second day here? At least I had a few months of peace.' A rage began to build inside him. To think that just as his new life was beginning, his past had already caught up.
'I have a few days to prepare. I need to survive, and I need to make sure the intel doesn't leak. Maybe three days. Maybe a week. No way to be sure. A pity I didn't kill him.' With that thought, he sat on the sofa and sighed.
Zion Chen felt a pang of regret. His strength wasn't even 3% of what it used to be. That shot with the blowgun had required immense skill, but his body was not only weak, it was rusty. His injuries meant that even if he wanted to, his techniques would be sloppy.
The conversation with Maria had truly pleased him, inspiring him to continue on his new path. But no matter how hard he tried, remnants of his past would always find him. Like it or not, he had to deal with them.
'One thing at a time.' Calming his heart, he stood up.
"Death might be certain, so there's no point worrying about what I can't control. Let's try to plant something in this cursed soil."
He retrieved a case he'd brought, opening it. On one side, there was a high-quality gardening tool kit. On the other, rows of organized vials filled with seeds. It seemed Zion Chen had been planning his farm for a long time.
"Hehehe, finally going to use these beauties!" He went to the pantry to organize his tools. The case split into two small shelving units. He screwed them into the wall. He looked at his work, satisfied. The dusty pantry now held an axe, a fishing rod, and his two shelves.
"Tomorrow, I'll clean this house. For now, I plant." Feeling the grime, he frowned and left the cabin, heading for the barn.
The property was a square of 10 hectares. But the buildings—the cabin, barn, and mill—took up less than two hectares. The rest was native forest, as if the cursed land itself had prevented any progress.
The farm was divided in two. The planting area was behind the cabin. The mill and barn stood in a line, and behind them were an abandoned chicken coop and fenced-in pen.
Zion walked the property, appreciating the layout. Although the soil was a strange black color, the surrounding forest was beautiful, with large, well-lit trees and many flowers.
The barn was large, with massive, noble wooden doors. Zion entered through a smaller side door.
Inside were a large number of bags filled with the highest quality potting soil, and a strange crate on a cart. It was at least two meters high and three meters wide. Looking at the crate, he smiled faintly.
'Even after everything, 'she' really did hold up her end of the bargain.' Zion thought, touching the strange crate. 'Saved me a lot of effort.'
Zion quickly grabbed a small pouch of radish seeds and a hoe that were positioned next to the door, almost as if waiting for him. He left the barn and walked back toward the cabin.
"I'll start here." Tossing the pouch aside, he grabbed the hoe—it, too, seemed to be made of a noble metal, but it was slightly rusted and in need of maintenance.
A few meters from the cabin, he mentally visualized the plot and raised the hoe high, his arms trembling from the physical strain. He brought it down with all his strength.
CLANG!
"URGH...!" As the metal hit the ground, a terrible, high-pitched scraping sound exploded in Zion's ears. The impact sent a painful vibration up the hoe, stinging his wrists and rattling up his arms, making him groan in pain.
"What the hell is this soil? I've never seen anything like it." Wincing, he dropped the hoe and inspected the ground. Only a tiny, hairline crack had appeared. The ground felt like solid metal.
"Dammit... Is it really impossible to plant anything here? It's the first time I've seen dirt that thinks it's metal." Rubbing his wrists, he kicked the ground with the sole of his boot, feeling its unyielding hardness.
"I'm going to try anyway. I might die tomorrow. I want to at least plant one thing before I do." He encouraged himself, remembering his conversation with Maria Wattson.
He checked the hoe. It was completely fine, confirming it was a quality tool.
"Fuh... Let's go."
He repeated the action, but this time, he struck with even more violence, aiming for the same hairline crack.
BOOM-CRACK!
A small explosion of sound, and the metallic crack formed. The impact that traveled back to Zion was softer this time, passing through his body and causing only a dull, momentary ache.
"Let's see." Crouching down, he saw the crack had widened by only a centimeter.
"It's going to take forever, but it works. It's strange... using assassination techniques to plow a field." He wiped the sweat from his brow and smiled. As a farmer with no crops and no animals, he had all the time in the world to hammer this damned, cursed earth.
"I am going to till you through sheer hate!" With red-rimmed eyes, he began to slam the hoe into the ground, over and over, without stopping, the process feeding his rage and making him lose his emotional control.
BOOM!
BOOM!
The impacts rang out across the farm all afternoon. No animal dared to come near. With each strike, the earth trembled. This lasted until nightfall.
...
The cold night air burned Zion's lungs. He didn't know how many hours he had been at it, repeating the same technique. The full moon was high in the sky, bathing the farm in silver light.
He looked back. What had been a field of hard, black earth was now a small, single square of turned, broken soil.
He smiled. This time, it was different from joy, but similar. A strange, inexplicable emotion crossed Zion's face.
One meter by one meter.
It was pathetic.
It was a victory.
CRACK.
The hoe in his hands, already fragmented, finally gave out. The noble metal head shattered, and the wooden handle splintered.
"Hah... hahaha..."
Zion laughed, a dry, breathless sound. He fell backward, landing on the cold ground, sweat and dust mixing to form mud on his skin. He stared up at the starry sky.
He held up his hands. They were torn and bleeding.
"We're the same, aren't we?" he whispered to the field, a small speech for an audience of none.
"Both lifeless. Cursed. Broken."
He remembered the darkness of the human heart—the nefarious, obscure, and terrifying acts he had witnessed.
"I've done so many terrible things in this life... countless. Maybe I don't even deserve to live." But he hadn't just witnessed it; he had participated. He had danced in that abyss.
Lying there, staring at his bloody hands, calloused from countless years of killing, he fell into his own thoughts.
'Did I do it all because I was forced? To survive? I'm not a hypocrite; I can't use those excuses. I was raised as an emotionless machine. I never feared death. I killed because it was the only thing I knew how to do. Maybe... maybe I wasn't entirely emotionless? Did I find pleasure in it? But what about after I gained emotions? Why didn't I stop? Why did I keep killing, for years? The truth is, I'm rotten to the core. I can't be resolute like Jo. I can't convince myself I'll one day be kind like Ms. Maria, or pure like that little rascal Mia, or honest like Brother Li... I will always carry a trace of my upbringing.'
A gigantic bitterness welled up in his heart. A feeling he couldn't understand, but it felt like a knife wound in his chest.
"I don't deserve it. But I... I want to live. A life for myself. In fact... I'm finally living... I'm living just to feel this pain." He clenched his bloody fist and put his other hand over his heart. Even someone like him had feelings. Maybe he'd never get rid of this bitterness, but nothing was stopping him from feeling—and from filling his heart with other things, too.
Determination burned in his eyes. He smiled at the ground.
"And I want... to give you life."
As he stared at his hand, a drop of his blood—the blood of a man who had repented and just wanted peace—flew from his clenched fist, falling silently toward the ground.
At that moment, something changed.
A soft, invisible pulse emanated from the spot where the blood fell, spreading through the small square of tilled earth. The dead black color of the soil deepened, turning into a dark, impossibly fertile brown, smelling of rain and life.
The pulse then shot out, covering the entire 10-hectare property.
At the same time, a primordial warmth flooded Zion's body, coming from within. With his sharp senses, he felt something new: a subtle, living connection, linking him to every grain of soil he had just tilled, and to the farm as a whole.
He could feel the earth... and the earth could feel him.