Aris kept his head slightly lowered, his expression respectful but steady. "Esteemed sir, I simply tried spacing the seeds apart rather than scattering them randomly," he said, pointing toward his paddy. "By giving each seed enough room, they can absorb more nutrients and aren't competing as intensely. As a result, the germination rate became higher."
The chief slave manager frowned, his fingers tapping against his armrest. "Spacing them apart? That just sounds like it takes longer. We don't have time for slow methods, we have quotas to meet."
Aris nodded in understanding. "That's true, sir. The planting process takes a bit longer. However, this method leads to significantly improved yields. There is less wasted seed and the crops are stronger. Instead of having to replant failed batches, you will get more usable rice from the first cycle."
The chief slave manager narrowed his eyes. "Are you certain about this?" he asked. Although deep down he knew the answer was yes, doubt and the weight of potential failure pressed on him. If the yield didn't improve, if he couldn't deliver results, the young master would cast him aside without a second thought making him lose his source of income.
And that wasn't just a loss of salary, it was a loss of power. He had grown used to being treated like a king here, lording over slaves and enforcers alike. If he fell from favor, the respect, the fear, the authority he wielded would vanish overnight. And that was something he could not afford.
Aris gestured again toward his paddy. "The proof is already there, sir. Nearly ninety percent of my seeds have sprouted. Compare that to the others, where many will fail and have to be replanted."
The chief slave manager waved his hand at the enforcer and said, "Go get me one of his sprouts." The enforcer immediately hurried toward Aris's paddy and plucked a sprout. The other slave kids glanced over in curiosity, wondering why he did so, but no one would explain anything to them, let alone waste their time.
The enforcer returned to the chief slave manager and handed over the sprout. Garron Bale, the chief slave manager, examined it. When he saw how healthy it was, he felt a sense of satisfaction. He thought to himself, "Ifalloftheseedscangrowthiswell, thenIwillbesaved." A rare smile escaped Garron, and Aris, reading Garron's expression, immediately knew he had won his gamble. The enforcers were also taken aback by Garron's small smile. However, he quickly clicked his tongue in disapproval when he realized he had let his guard down, and he tried to return to his usual demeanor, saying, "Impressive… but what about the time lost? If the slaves take longer to plant, we'll fall behind."
Aris remained kneeling, his gaze lowered, but his mind was racing. He had expected this concern—the enforcers and the chief slave manager cared more about speed than efficiency. If they didn't meet the monthly quota, their salaries would be cut, and no amount of healthy crops could change that.
He let a brief silence hang in the air, just long enough for Garron to dwell on the thought. Then, with a measured tone, he replied, "Sir, it may take slightly longer at first, but once the method is learned, the difference in speed will be negligible. However…" Aris raised his head slightly, meeting Garron's eyes just enough to seem respectful, yet confident. "The difference in yield will be undeniable. The current method wastes nearly half of the seeds, forcing us to replant later. But if we plant properly the first time, fewer seeds are needed, and more sprouts will survive. In the end, we won't just meet the quota—we'll exceed it."
Garron narrowed his eyes, rubbing his thumb over the sprout as if testing its strength. The logic was sound, but he was a man who had been burned before. He wasn't about to gamble his already meager salary and his status on a mere slave's word. "Big words you have there," he muttered. "But you're forgetting something. If we slow down now, we risk failing this month's quota. Even if your method works, what do I tell the young master when I don't have the numbers to show for it?"
Aris inwardly smirked. That was exactly the response he had expected. He kept his expression humble, his voice even. "That is why I suggest a compromise, sir." Garron arched a brow as he said "compromise?"
"Let the others continue planting the usual way for now, but assign a small portion of land for my method—just enough to compare. If my crops fail, you lose nothing. But if they succeed…" Aris let his words trail off, allowing Garron to fill in the rest himself.
The chief slave manager tapped his fingers against his armrest, his expression unreadable. The enforcers watched in silence, sensing the tension.
Then, Garron let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "Hah… A little rat and a little schemer, aren't you?" His smile didn't reach his eyes. Aris kept his head bowed. "I only wish to serve, sir."
Garron studied him for a moment longer, then finally sighed. "Fine. I'll give you a patch of land. If this works, I will take the credit." His tone darkened slightly. "And if it fails, you'll wish you'd never opened your mouth."
Aris lowered his head further, concealing the sharp glint in his eyes. "I understand, sir. Thank you for your generosity," he said, his voice laced with just the right amount of humility.
Recognition wasn't his goal, not yet. Credit meant nothing to him; even if he asked for it, he wouldn't receive any. If he remained trapped in the same miserable conditions, then credit was meaningless. What he truly sought was Garron's favor—a foothold that would allow him to secure better food, gain small privileges, and gradually carve out a path upward and this was merely the first step..
He had won the first step. Now, he just had to make sure his method succeeded.
Garron's gaze hardened as he turned to the enforcer. "Go. Get him seeds and land. And make sure to remove him from the quota book. Create a new one, just for him," he said, his voice steady and he continued "Also, ensure he gets better food. He won't work well if he's this malnourished."
The enforcer nodded without hesitation. "Understood, sir," he replied quickly, his eyes now shifting to Aris. As Aris stood up, the enforcer's curiosity began to build.
Aris's calm demeanor, his ability to converse with Garron with such confidence and clarity, was something the enforcer hadn't expected from a slave of his age. Most of the other children could barely speak a word in front of Garron, much less engaged in the kind of intellectual discussion Aris had demonstrated. The words Aris had used to explain his methods had been articulate, his reasoning sound. It was rare for a child, especially one so young, to possess such depth of thought.
The enforcer, who had spent years overseeing these kids, found himself surprised by the contrast between Aris and the others. His curiosity was slightly piqued.
The enforcer glanced at Aris as he thought Couldtherebemoretothiskidthanmeetstheeye? and then turned sharply on his heel dismissing the thought as he had no time to dwell on it "Follow me," he ordered.
Aris obeyed without hesitation, keeping his gaze forward as they walked. After a few minutes, they arrived at the edge of the farm, where ten empty paddies stretched before them.
Aris's eyes flickered with understanding. "So that's his game…" Even with the promise of better food, Garron was squeezing out every ounce of labor from him. Ten paddies—far more than the others have to manage. "Garronissqueezingmedry, pushingmetothelimit. He'stestinghowmuchIcanhandle, watchingcloselytodecideifI'mworthkeepingaround."
Aris wasn't worried. Alone, he might have felt overwhelmed, but he wasn't alone. The AI chip that was fused in his soul was already calculating the best methods and optimizing the planting strategy to ensure a high-quality rice yield. "Theythinkthey'reusingme," he thought. "That'sfine; I'llusethemjustthesame."
"This is your section now," the enforcer said, arms crossed. "Do your work. If your results aren't as good as you claim…" His gaze darkened. "You'll be sent to the mines."
There was no need for further explanation. Everyone understood what that meant. Aris gave a respectful nod, but his mind remained sharp. Before he began, he looked at the enforcer and asked, "Will I have protection?"
The enforcer frowned. "What for?"
"If others get jealous of the treatment I would be given," Aris said, his voice calm, "they might try to sabotage my work. Some may interfere just to spite me."
The enforcer's brows furrowed, and his mind immediately landed on Number 105. He knew exactly the kind of troublemaker Aris was talking about. He let out a sharp exhale, annoyed but acknowledging the truth in his words.
"I'll handle it," the enforcer finally said. "You just focus on your work." He thought "Let'sseeiftheydareto"