A Grave’s Secret and a Blacksmith’s Deceit

“In her life, she harbored so many beautiful wishes. Yet, in the end, the only one to be fulfilled was this.”

“How tragic. I had promised her so much, but it all amounted to nothing.”

“Stop wallowing in self-pity, Wede. If she knew, she would be terribly upset…”

Wede’s hands, vigorously wielding the shovel, suddenly froze. He glared at Mr. Reed, his face contorted into an expression that seemed on the verge of tears.

“Upset? How many times in her life was she upset? For how long? What meaning does her sorrow, or lack thereof, even hold now?”

“The dead cannot even pray!”

“…Wede…”

With eyes wide and bloodshot, Wede’s emotions grew increasingly agitated. He swung the shovel with even greater force, piling soil onto the grave again and again, until it was almost completely filled.

“Village Chief… what exactly is this…?”

Stepping forward to inquire, Mr. Lister was utterly bewildered by the situation. He had come to the graveyard at the Village Chief’s request, only to witness such a bizarre scene.

“Do you know who is buried in this grave?”

“Could it be… Ms. Monira…?”

At these words, everyone present was struck with horror. Yet, with this revelation, everything that had transpired earlier suddenly made sense.

“…”

In that moment, Wede seemed to have lost the ability to speak; his mouth opened and closed, but no sound escaped. Suddenly, he was transported back to the late hours of the night before last.

****

“Wede, why are you home so late tonight?”

“Oh, there was some work to be done. I rushed to finish it. Aren’t you asleep yet, Grandma?”

“I just wanted to see you one more time before I slept, hehe.”

Within the dilapidated shack, Wede had hurried back under the cover of night. Today, he had been forced to rush another batch of products; that cursed blacksmith always found new excuses to burden him with extra tasks. Yet, he could only swallow his grievances. Losing his apprenticeship at the smithy meant losing all means of livelihood. His family owned no land; he was the sole pillar supporting their home. He couldn’t afford to be willful; for the sake of his dearest relative’s peaceful twilight years, he had to persevere.

Ms. Monira walked slowly, her steps faltering slightly, as she led Wede into the house. There, on the rickety table, sat a bowl of cold bread mush.

“You… what is this…?”

Wede’s face drained of color. To make ends meet, every expense in their household, from food to clothing, was meticulously calculated. Their daily provisions were strictly limited, and this bowl of bread mush on the table…

“Didn’t I tell you, there’s no need to save food for me… I eat at the blacksmith’s shop.”

Tears instantly streamed down Wede’s face. He gazed at the kind-faced old woman before him, his entire body trembling.

“You’re a young man, doing so much work every day; you certainly need to eat more. These old bones of mine haven’t had much appetite lately… I can’t just throw away what I can’t finish, can I?”

Wede knew his grandmother’s nature: beneath her benevolent countenance lay a stubbornness that ten oxen couldn’t budge. Though he looked at her pleadingly, her gentle smile was unyielding.

“I’m so sorry, Grandma…”

Wede finished that bowl of cold bread mush with tears in his eyes. Grandma Monira had harbored countless wishes throughout her life, all of which Wede knew well: to eat a seafood meal in the city, to learn to dance, to be buried in the village graveyard after her passing… All these aspirations, however, had been abandoned in the long river of time.

Wede had been raised by Ms. Monira since childhood. This woman, who had never attended school, possessed hands tougher than any man’s, nurturing him from a boy into a young man. He had secretly sworn to himself that he would fulfill at least a few of her wishes during her remaining years. Now, however, it seemed he was nowhere near fulfilling even the first of them.

“What’s wrong, Grandma?”

It was the dead of night when Wede was suddenly roused by a faint sound. He rose from his wooden plank bed, intending to ask what had happened, but received no reply.

“Grandma?”

Slowly, Wede approached the frail, withered old woman. He looked at her face, seeing a calm, serene expression, as if she were simply sleeping. He knelt down, reaching to grasp her hand. However, he felt only a chilling touch, and his heart jolted with alarm. Upon closer inspection, the kind old woman had already ceased breathing, having departed from this world forever at some unknown moment during the night.

****

Every time he recalled it, Wede’s heart ached as if pierced by a knife. He had striven for so many years, yet before he could achieve his goal, the very meaning of his struggle had already left him.

Now, the only wish he could fulfill for Ms. Monira was to bury her in this village graveyard. He knew perfectly well that a humble old woman like his grandmother would never qualify for a burial in the main cemetery. For this reason, he had seized the opportunity to steal tools for making a gravestone and digging a grave from the blacksmith’s shop, working ceaselessly and avoiding everyone’s gaze until this very moment.

“Wede, what’s with all this self-pity? Don’t try to portray yourself as a pitiful figure just to gain everyone’s sympathy!” Seeing the tide turn against him, Barry couldn’t hold back. He roared at Wede, but in the very next moment, he found himself unable to utter another sound.

“Playing the victim? I think that applies to you, Barry. Since you’re so eager, I’ll lay bare what you’ve really been doing all these years for everyone to see.”

“You… I, Barry, have always run my shop with integrity. What are you talking about?”

Wede let out a cold laugh. He plunged the shovel into the earth, straightened up, and faced the crowd directly. “No one knows better than I what you’ve truly been up to. For instance… the intentionally flawed goods you sell to the villagers.”

“What?”

“As a craftsman, you naturally know how long the tools you forge should last. But as a blacksmith, you only need to subtly manipulate the materials and process to significantly shorten the lifespan of those iron implements.”

“Impossible… You don’t understand anything—”

“Of course I don’t understand, because for all these years, you’ve never actually taught me the true art of forging.”

“…!” At this, Barry finally felt a surge of panic. Facing the questioning gazes of the crowd, his voice no longer held its former arrogance.

When he first took on the young man as an apprentice, it was Mr. Reed himself who had recommended him. Mr. Reed had hoped Barry would guide this unfortunate child well and, in doing so, provide the village with another blacksmith. Naturally, Barry had readily agreed.

However, he harbored his own ulterior motives. Over the years, he had coerced Wede into performing immense amounts of labor under various pretexts while deliberately avoiding teaching him any truly useful forging techniques. Of course, Barry had always publicly maintained that he and his apprentice got along splendidly. He had also ensured that Wede received every penny of the compensation he had initially promised.

As the sole blacksmith in the village, every villager’s iron tools had to be ordered from him. Over time, he had amassed considerable standing within the community, a life Barry was unwilling to relinquish. To boost sales, he had tampered with the goods he sold. While the quality seemed fine initially, they wore out remarkably fast, compelling villagers to repurchase them every few years.

This was Barry’s greatest secret, one he had always believed he had concealed flawlessly. But now, everything was ruined.