“Tori! Hurry over and carry this basket of red peppers into the storeroom. Remember to open the windows so they can dry!”

Under the blazing sun, branches on red pepper plants half a person’s height were laden with peppers, gleaming like jade. A woman in her mid-twenties, her head wrapped in a white cloth, held a basket of red peppers and called for her daughter.

“Coming, Mom!” The eight-year-old girl answered to her name, wiped the sweat from her face, and hurried over to take the basket from her mother. It was a little heavy for her, but if she took it slowly, she could carry it back.

She was so small that she was barely taller than the basket. As she carried it, tears began to well in her eyes. She grumbled, “Mom! You snapped some of the peppers again!”

When red peppers are snapped while being picked, their pungent smell and the tiny amount of fire-element energy they contain are enough to make your eyes water.

The woman looked a little embarrassed. “Well, there are always one or two like that in a basket. Pick out the damaged ones later and grind them into powder. They’re no good for selling.”

Step by step, Tori carried the basket toward the storeroom at home.

Red pepper powder made a delicious seasoning. It was just like the chili powder Tori knew. But her family grew red peppers for a living, and their expenses for the whole year depended on them. They couldn’t exactly afford to eat much of their own crop. Her mother had probably snapped one or two peppers in each basket on purpose, so she could make red pepper powder from them.

Tori hadn’t understood it before, but now she did.

The reason was simple: she wasn’t the Tori who’d lived here before.

She felt a little guilty saying it, but she’d come to this world three days ago. The girl who’d originally been named Tori had apparently eaten some poisonous fruit and died.

Her parents hadn’t noticed a thing. Since she’d transmigrated into Tori’s body, she hadn’t acted strangely, either.

After struggling to carry the red peppers into the storeroom, Tori began counting them. There were about eighty peppers in a basket, and each one sold for two copper coins. She’d heard they cost a little more in town, but transportation and labor were too expensive to deal with, so middlemen only paid two copper coins apiece. And the peppers had to be in good condition. Apparently, rich people ate them sliced—just like she had before transmigrating.

She took out the two or three snapped peppers.

She opened the window and spread the red peppers out across the floor, one by one. These peppers contained magic and looked as lovely as jade. Their appearance alone made them seem delicious, but if she sneaked a taste, her father would probably get angry.

The currency exchange rate was one to a hundred. The wheat bread made by the old man who lived over there cost two copper coins a loaf. In other words, a copper coin had roughly the purchasing power of one yuan. That was a big help.

A basket of red peppers sold for around one hundred and fifty or sixty copper coins. If they sold everything from their fields, they’d probably make five or six thousand copper coins.

That was only fifty or sixty silver coins—not even one gold coin!

That was what they earned from a whole year of labor. No wonder they couldn’t bear to eat the peppers. Her father also worked in town repairing houses for people. He earned about fifty or sixty silver coins a year, too. So the family’s total annual income topped out at one gold coin and twenty silver coins.

That was… just enough to get by without worrying about food or clothes.

At least they could live without going hungry. But improving their lot wasn’t very realistic, especially since Tori would be going to the Magic Academy in a year. Now the whole family had to save money for her tuition.

Damn it, every world is the same!

Tori wanted to make money.

If you wanted to know why, it was because she’d died for lack of money.

She’d been an ordinary middle-aged man, thirty-six years old. His father had cancer, but he was too old for surgery. The medication cost five thousand yuan a month. The mortgage was another three thousand a month, and his third-grade child still needed tuition. He worked at a construction site, but his monthly wages barely covered their expenses—and the site often went months without paying him. In the end, his wife divorced him…

He’d heard that if someone died at a construction site, their family could get several hundred thousand yuan in compensation. He didn’t know if that was true… But it didn’t matter. She couldn’t bear that kind of life anymore.

Call it irresponsible, call it whatever you want. He was already dead…

That was what she’d thought. She never expected to transmigrate into the body of a girl about the same age as her own child. What was this? Was Heaven finally showing mercy? Had she been given another chance?

She panted and opened her palm. The faintest trickle of magic flowed through her body, and a layer of icy mist appeared around her. A touch of coolness washed over her.

Then she ran out of magic.

Never mind. It’ll come back gradually.

Being broke can kill you.

You couldn’t get rich by farming. Tori, who’d spent a lifetime earning a fixed wage, knew that very well. Of course, she didn’t have the capital to start anything right now, either. If she wanted a better life, she’d have to grit her teeth and endure for now. The Magic Academy was an opportunity. There had to be ways to make money there.

She slung the empty basket over her back and headed out to the fields again.

She exchanged it for another basket full of red peppers from her mother, then repeated the same grueling work.

By nightfall, Tori was sprawled over the table without a shred of grace. Her mother was tired, too, but she still made dinner for her. To be honest, it wasn’t very tasty. It was just mo—well, you could call it bread. Either way, it was an irregular shape and not sweet.

Her mother took a small jar from the kitchen. It was full of red pepper powder.

All right, spicy bread actually tasted pretty good. Tori carefully sprinkled a little red pepper powder on it, then chewed it down with the bread. She grabbed her cup and gulped down a big mouthful of water to wash it down.

Seeing her wolf it down so heartily, her mother couldn’t help laughing. “You’re a girl. Don’t eat like your father! You’ll never find a husband at this rate!”

“Who even wants to get married?”

Her mother hesitated, then picked up the jar of red pepper powder. “You can have a little more. You’re still growing, and red peppers contain a tiny bit of magic. They can help your magic grow, at least a little. We can’t afford Meditation Potions.”

Meditation Potions!

She’d heard they cost two silver coins.

A whole basket of red peppers wouldn’t even cover the cost. Supposedly, they helped your magic grow and made meditation more effective. The tiny amount of magic inside Tori was the result of meditating—and that was despite how hard she’d worked at it. The old Tori hadn’t tried very hard and had barely managed to meditate successfully. Kids that age still liked to play, after all.

A two-hundred-yuan supplement. That was highway robbery.

You could grit your teeth and buy one, sure—but what was the point? She’d heard the village chief’s son got two bottles of Meditation Potion a week. Just that one expense came to sixteen silver coins a month. Filthy rich! They lived in the same village, so how the hell was that little shit so wealthy?

Tori teased, “It’s fine, Mom. Eat too many red peppers and your butt hurts.” She seemed to remember something.

That made her mother laugh, and then Tori laughed, too. Their laughter filled the house, warm and harmonious. Maybe this was a kind of life, too. It was hard, but at least… Mom and Dad were still in decent health, Tori thought. She kept meditating until she fell asleep.

The next day, Tori opened her eyes and sat bolt upright.

As expected, hard physical labor and meditation didn’t mix. She’d simply been too tired and had fallen asleep.

She didn’t see her mother. She’d probably already gone to the fields.

Everyone in Lusaka Village grew red peppers. They were the village’s economic lifeline. Everyone knew how to handle them, and their supply to buyers had remained fairly steady over the years. The village chief was the one who’d led them into growing red peppers. So even though Tori privately called him an old geezer, the villagers still loved him.

To be honest, red peppers were difficult to handle. Whether you were growing or harvesting them, they were much more troublesome than another widely grown cash crop, “moon grass.”

This world had only one moon, and it was blue. Moon grass was blue, too. It often grew among weeds, but it stood out clearly. These days, though, almost none of it grew wild. It was all cultivated.

Moon grass had far more uses than red peppers, but it was grown in much larger quantities. It usually sold for one copper coin per plant. In terms of income, a year’s worth of moon grass brought in about as much as red peppers.

But once planted, red peppers could be harvested for several years. Moon grass only yielded a single harvest. That was one advantage. And every few years, red pepper growers could make a windfall, because the stems and roots could be sold, too.

That was why the village chief was so beloved.

Come to think of it, Lusaka Village was already one of the wealthier villages in the area.

Every June, everyone in Lusaka Village got busy. Even the children helped with the work. If the red peppers weren’t processed in time, their properties would change, and they could no longer be used as ingredients for certain Potions. They could only be sold as food. There was nothing wrong with selling them as food, but red peppers were only a seasoning, and there was no way they could sell that many.

Tori looked out at the red pepper fields. “Come to think of it, Dad’s repairing a noble’s estate in town, right?”

“That’s right.” Her mother kept picking red peppers. She looked around to make sure no one else was nearby, then leaned in and whispered to Tori. “Your father told me this, so don’t go repeating it. Apparently, the lord’s youngest son was pushed aside by his older siblings because he had poor talent. His betrothed looked down on him, too, and they might break off the engagement soon. The lord hasn’t treated his child unfairly, though. He had a whole estate built just for him. He might be the lord’s youngest son, but he’s still a very high-ranking person. I don’t know what kind of man he is… If he isn’t a good one, then I’m afraid…”

That didn’t sound good, Mom. A noble who’d been pushed out by his own family would be full of resentment, wouldn’t he? Then he’d do whatever it took to prove himself to them. Most of the time, that meant squeezing the people dry. And hearing about the broken engagement made me feel uneasy, too. We should move away while we still can.

Being broke is miserable.