The Farmer’s Training

Why can’t I run?

Can’t he see my pathetic state — gasping and stumbling just to keep up?

Even now, I’m huffing and puffing, legs shaking, but the man walks over and turns up the treadmill’s speed.

The belt suddenly whirred faster.

Garam tried to match the pace, but his exhausted body was quickly dragged backward.

Thud.

He fell to his knees on the floor.

“Hhngh…”

It was miserable.

Utterly miserable.

If only he had awakened as a warrior, or even a mage — not a farmer of all things!

Why, out of all the jobs in the world, did he have to get farmer?

He bit his lip, trembling with frustration.

“Pathetic.”

The man’s cold voice cut through the room.

Sure, to someone like him — someone strong — Garam must have looked worthless.

‘You smug bastard!’

Garam silently ground his teeth.

One day, when he became stronger, he swore he’d repay this humiliation.

Having survived alone outside the safe zones all this time, he at least had a bit of grit.

But that noble determination was soon interrupted by a more pressing matter.

“Uh… can I use the bathroom?”

Even in the apocalypse, nature’s calls didn’t wait.

The man simply pointed to a door.

‘Good. Let’s think while I’m in there.’

He moved quickly toward the bathroom — but the man followed behind.

Apparently, he planned to guard the door in case Garam tried to escape.

Garam sighed and accepted his fate, stepping inside and trying to close the door.

But before it shut, a foot wedged in the gap.

“What are you doing?”

“Don’t mind me. Do your business.”

How could he not mind?

Someone else was standing right there!

Garam panicked, pushing the door harder — but the man merely pushed back once, and it swung open again.

“No! Stop!”

“I won’t look. Don’t worry.”

How could anyone feel reassured by that?!

Garam flailed helplessly, but the man didn’t budge.

In the end, he had to relieve himself with another man right there.

God, he’s insane.

I need to get out of here.

His instincts screamed that if he stayed any longer, he’d end up a s*ave — or worse, some weirdo’s pet project.

Drinking mana potions instead of meals for the rest of his life wasn’t exactly his dream.

So when the man stepped out for a moment, Garam began to move.

‘All right. Now’s my chance!’

He clenched his fist and crept toward the door.

It wasn’t even locked.

He exhaled in relief and carefully turned the handle.

The metal scraped with a faint, unpleasant creak.

Creeeeak—

His heart dropped.

But there was no response from outside.

Or inside.

Good.

He started to open the door — and saw something black through the gap.

‘Huh?’

He slowly lifted his gaze.

There, through the small opening, the man in black was looking straight down at him.

“Ha… ha ha.”

Garam let out an awkward laugh and tried to close the door again.

But the man moved first.

“Why?”

Why what?!

He asked why more often than a five-year-old.

“I just wanted to get some air.”

Garam forced a smile, keeping his tone calm and polite as he slowly backed away and sat down on the floor in front of the table.

He folded his legs neatly under him — like a newlywed bride at a tea ceremony — and waited.

The man followed him in and asked,

“Pick one. Right or left.”

“Uh… left?”

He didn’t even know what the question was about, but he picked quickly, sensing it was safer that way.

The man drew his sword.

And swung it down — right where Garam’s leg had been.

“Ahhh!”

He rolled sideways just in time.

The sword embedded itself deep into the floor where he had been sitting.

“Why did you dodge?”

Why did I dodge?! You were about to cut my leg off!

Garam trembled and stammered,

“W-were you just about to… cut my leg off?”

“Yes.”

“W-why?!”

“You tried to run.”

“Who cuts someone’s leg off for that?! Are you insane?!”

The words burst out before he could stop himself.

“I even let you choose.”

“Cancel that! I don’t want to choose anymore!”

“If you don’t choose, I’ll choose for you.”

The man stepped closer, pressing down Garam’s leg with his boot.

He raised the sword again — but Garam screamed desperately.

“If you cut my leg, I won’t be able to do anything!”

He had never spoken so fast in his life.

The blade stopped just short of his thigh — barely.

He panted heavily.

“That would be inconvenient,” the man muttered.

“I’ll behave! I won’t run again, I promise!”

It probably wouldn’t work — but he had to try.

Tears welled in his eyes as he begged.

“Can you swear on it?”

“Yes! I swear on my name!”

He hated the name the orphanage director had given him — but right now, it was all he had to offer.

“Or… should I swear on my hoe instead?”

“That won’t be necessary.”

The man sheathed his sword and sat back down on the sofa.

Then he dumped something onto the table with a clattering sound.

Garam wiped his tears and blinked.

It was all… canned food.

Real canned food!

Outside the safe zones, those were like treasures.

Even expired ones sold for a fortune on the black market.

But these were perfectly fine — untouched.

This man had the kind of supplies only the rich or powerful could afford.

“Eat.”

The word alone made Garam’s stomach growl loudly.

Grrrgle.

He flushed in embarrassment.

Still, he hesitated.

This was the same guy who had tried to chop off his leg two minutes ago.

He wasn’t sure eating his food was a good idea.

The man frowned slightly at Garam’s hesitation.

“Just eat.”

That tone suggested refusal might earn him another sword swing, so Garam quickly picked up a can of meat.

He hooked his finger into the ring pull and carefully lifted the lid.

A rich, savory aroma filled the air.

Fresh, juicy meat.

Garam couldn’t help but swallow.

There were no forks or chopsticks — but who cared?

There was meat, and he was starving.

Hesitation evaporated.

Once the scent hit him, resistance was futile.

He devoured the can’s contents.

The flavor was incredible — clearly high-quality meat.

Not the rough, bitter kind made from monster flesh that he’d eaten before.

This was real food.

It tasted like the kind of meal he hadn’t had since the world ended.

Tears ran down his cheeks as he ate.

The man tilted his head slightly, then reached over and brushed Garam’s face, wiping away the tears.

A chill ran down Garam’s spine, but he forced himself to stay still.

“You cry a lot.”

“I… guess I do.”

He sniffled, and the man slid another can toward him.

“Eat more.”

Garam hesitated — then opened the next one.

He ate it fast, too.

Then another.

The third can had beans instead of meat.

Less luxurious, but still precious.

He poured the contents straight into his mouth.

Who knows when I’ll get to eat something like this again?

Right.

If you’re going to die anyway, at least die full.

He finished every can on the table.

The man didn’t stop him.

That alone raised Garam’s opinion of him — slightly.

Not by much, but from “minus ten thousand” to maybe “minus ten.”

Anyone who feeds you is a good person, he thought.

That was an unshakable truth.

Full and warm for the first time in ages, Garam felt his eyelids grow heavy.

He nodded off, only jerking awake when his head hit the table.

When he looked up, the man was gone.

‘He’s gone… maybe I can sleep a bit.’

He lay down where he was.

The floor was hard, and there was no blanket, but it was dry, safe, and under a roof.

No monsters, no rain.

That was enough.

Just in case, he placed his hands over his legs — to make sure they were still there when he woke up.

Then he drifted into sleep.

When he opened his eyes again, it was late morning.

Thankfully, both legs — and arms — were still attached.

“Morning.”

The man had returned, setting down a few more cans.

He didn’t need to say anything else.

The meaning was obvious.

Garam didn’t argue.

He ate.

After breakfast, the man made him exercise again.

Garam didn’t want to, but he didn’t want to die either — so he ran with everything he had.

An hour later, his whole body felt like jelly.

Then, just like before, the man slung him over his shoulder and headed outside.

Once again, he carried Garam over the barbed wire.

‘Is he… letting me go?’

Garam studied his face but couldn’t read it.

The man simply walked ahead, pushing through overgrown bushes.

He seemed to know exactly where he was going.

Watching him, Garam took a deep breath.

He couldn’t just follow blindly forever.

He needed to speak up.

“Uh, excuse me. I think… I’ll be going my own way from here.”

He cleared his throat, forcing the words out.