Tweaked world

Chapter Three

Nero Country is a prosperous nation, ideal for any entrepreneur looking to start a business and escape the clutches of poverty. With a population of approximately 3.6 million inhabitants, excluding migrants, it is no exaggeration to say that its citizens have diverse means of earning a living.

The government ensures that everything is well-balanced by clearing expendable forests and constructing infrastructures on the available land. However, they have not heartlessly eradicated all the forests, as they recognize the importance of preserving nature.

In a well-developed area of Urrn City, a prominent city in Nero Country, the ruling senator oversaw the construction of a public park for the residents. Of course, this initiative was approved by the national government.

This park serves as a relaxation spot where city dwellers unwind after a long day. It is also a favorite location for picnickers. Additionally, ambitious business people often bring their wares to sell, hoping to make a profit. However, the park is not without its flaws, as petty thieves and bag snatchers are known to operate in the evenings.

It is currently afternoon, and only a few people are strolling through the park. A nearby bench is occupied by two individuals—a young man and a young woman, both seemingly in their early twenties. However, it is evident that they are strangers who have come to the park independently.

The young man appears to have been crying, as his puffy red eyes reveal. He stares blankly ahead, lost in thought, occasionally releasing deep sighs. Suddenly, the ringing of his phone jolts him back to reality. He picks it up and places it against his ear.

"Hello," he mutters lifelessly, causing the person on the other end of the line to hesitate before responding.

"Mark, are you okay? What happened to your voice?" a concerned woman’s voice comes through the speaker. She is evidently worried about the 23-year-old Mark Gino. He lets out another sigh.

"How did your last book go? Were you listed for an A-list award?" the woman asks, her voice tense with concern.

Mark exhales deeply and shakes his head, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. "No, Mom. The publishers canceled the entire deal. This is the thirtieth time I’ve been rejected as an author. I’m so tired, Mom," he explains dryly, his voice hoarse from disappointment.

"Son, I think it’s time for you to come home. Your dad and I have been really worried about you for a long time. Why not take a break from writing and join us on the farm to earn some money?" she suggests gently.

Rubbing his forehead, Mark replies, "Okay, Mom. I should be home soon—it’s been so long. Bye, Mom, and send my regards to Dad."

After ending the call, Mark feels a slight sense of relief as he contemplates his next step. It seems that he has no future in writing, leaving him with only one viable option—farming.

A small tug on his sleeve pulls him out of his thoughts. Looking down, he sees a little girl, around six years old, gazing at him with curiosity, as though he were an intriguing specimen to be studied.

"Uncle, I’ve been watching you ever since you sat here. Whatever it is, things are going to be alright," the small, adorable girl says in a childish yet comforting tone.

Her words lighten Mark’s mood, and for the first time since that fateful Monday, he smiles genuinely. "Thank you, little angel. Uncle won’t worry anymore."

"But, Uncle, sometimes people need to charge forward with their decisions—not recklessly, but if it's a choice that could change their future," she adds thoughtfully.

Just then, as if on cue, her father arrives, scolding her for wandering off and talking to a stranger while he was on a phone call. As he pulls her away, she looks back at Mark and waves goodbye. Mark smiles and waves back, feeling strang

ely comforted by the child’s words.