The people of Northbrook had long been hardened by life. Even if the world forgot about them, they knew how to fend for themselves. They would haul their goods on makeshift carts to sell in the neighboring city. It wasn't enough to make them rich, but it kept food on the table. Hard work was just part of the deal. But this year, the relentless downpours had caught everyone off guard. No one had been prepared for the sheer force of the storms.

Grace kept her stance low-key, and even when she was injured, she didn't make a fuss. The gathered fruit farmers exchanged glances, hesitating. Then, a few younger ones finally spoke up. "Three days. Just three days. She's a schemer. Maybe she really can help." The others still looked uneasy, but in the end, they nodded. Mandy offered to check Grace's injuries, but she shook her head. "I'm fine." Fine? Not a chance. Her entire back was probably bruised.

Grace had already pulled back the flap of a tent belonging to some of the younger farmers and stepped inside, issuing instructions as she went. "Send a message to every single customer who placed an order," she told Mandy. "Tell them I personally inspected the orchards and found that Northbrook apples are sweeter. We're switching the shipment to Northbrook apples. If they're okay with that, we'll ship. If not, they can request a refund." Mandy frowned. "Why send that message?

We've got over two thousand orders lined up. If we just ship them out, no one will know the difference between Southbrook and Northbrook apples. We could sell over 20 thousand pounds in an instant. Besides, Northbrook apples taste great anyway." Grace caught sight of the younger farmers, whose faces were burning with anger. She quickly cut Mandy off. "For the people of Northbrook, slapping a 'Southbrook' label on their apples is an insult.

Back then, Southbrook treated them like outcasts, pushing them out of the circle of prosperity like a bunch of bandits. "And now, if they let their apples ride on Southbrook's reputation, it's no different than groveling. Like they said, they'd rather let their apples rot on the ground." Some people in this world clung stubbornly to their principles, no matter the cost - just like the people of Northbrook. Their elders never bowed their heads. Naturally, neither would the younger generation.

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That unyielding pride ran through their veins. Some might call them foolish, but having a code to live by wasn't such a bad thing. At least they weren't like the people of Southbrook, who repaid kindness with betrayal. The young farmers beside them lit up at Grace's words. "Exactly! My mom always said we should never ride on Southbrook's coattails. You have no idea how disgusting they were decades ago. People died because of them. Even our most respected..." His voice choked up.

"The chief was killed. My mom was only a teenager back then. She always said he was a highly educated man from a top university. But instead of chasing a cushy city job, he chose to come here, determined to help us build a better life. "It was his idea to start growing apples in the first place. Back then, Brookfield wasn't split into Southbrook and Northbrook yet. But then a Southbrook official took all the credit for the apple industry and kept getting promoted, rank after rank.

"Everyone was furious and wanted to set the record straight, but the chief told them to let it go. As long as people could make a living, that was all that mattered. "But soon after, Southbrook completely shut us out. They blacklisted our apples. The chief went to negotiate for our rights, but before the meeting even started, he was beaten to death with a rake. Southbrook's government paid his family a measly 300 bucks in compensation." Three hundred dollars.

That was the price they put on a man's life - a man who had given up everything for his people. Only now did Grace truly understand how Northbrook had endured all these years. How could the older generation ever let go of such a grudge! The young man wiped his eyes. "The chief was only in his 20s back then. With his background, he could've lived like a king in the city. "My mom was still in the city when she got the news.

She jumped in her car and drove straight to Southbrook, determined to take him home. But on the way, someone there shattered her windshield. She crashed and died too." Grace's fingers curled tighter around the apple in her hand. Even her breathing felt heavy. Mandy couldn't hold back anymore, and her face was red with rage. "Are you kidding me? What kind of monsters are they? Did the murderer at least get the death penalty?" The young man lowered his eyes, pressing his lips together.

"They were 10 years old." Ten years old. A child that age was still too young to face real punishment. They would've just been sent to juvenile reform. Mandy trembled, her chest heaving with fury. Then, she suddenly realized she had suggested repackaging Northbrook apples as Southbrook's just moments ago. Shame burned through her. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."