Chapter 1

To make life easier for my grandpa, I pay out of pocket to set up a well in the village. But since no one has ever bothered to maintain it, and because it has been raining heavily for several days now, mud and sediment end up getting into the well.

The villagers assume that I cut corners when I had the well built, so they call me up to force me to pay for another well.

When I refuse, they barricade Grandpa at his house and throw bricks into the courtyard in the middle of the night.

I rush back to the village and see debris scattered everywhere. I say nothing.

But Grandpa, an 80-year-old, gets so worked up that he shouts, "Where is your conscience? My grandson put in more than 80,000 dollars of his own money to build the well, and he didn't charge any of you for that!"

Peggy Mitchell, the ringleader of the troublemakers, shouts right back at him, "Don't be ridiculous! He's the one who built the well, so now that there's a problem with it, he's responsible for it!"

Henrietta Nelson, the village chief, smokes a cigarette and says matter-of-factly, "We're all from the same village, Fred. Just put up the money to handle this."

After five seconds of silence, I declare, "In that case, I'll bring a crew over this afternoon to fill in the well. You guys can head into town to get as many pails as you can. You're going to need to start hauling water from the river several miles away again."

Chapter 1

I had just gotten home from work when my phone buzzed with a video call from Grandpa, which I answered right away.

But Grandpa didn't appear on the screen. Instead, it was the angry, flushed face of Peggy Mitchell, one of the residents at the village Grandpa lived in, that showed up. A crowd of other villagers had gathered behind her.

"Fred Sherman! Look at the mess you made!" Madam Mitchell screamed into the phone, her spit splattering onto the lens.

"The water from the village well stinks! All we're pumping out now is muddy water! Everyone who's been drinking the water got diarrhea, and now, the whole village is here! You must've cut corners and pocketed the kickbacks when you handled this project.

"But now that the pipes are destroyed, the water's contaminated, and the entire village is in chaos, you happily hide away in the city to enjoy your riches? You'd better get your ass here now and put up the money to dig us a new well!"

All the way in the back, Grandpa was being shoved around, and he had to press himself against the wall in the corner.

The other villagers started chiming in as well.

"That's right! Make him come back to the village and dig us another well!"

"He conned his own neighbors out of their money! How shameless of him!"

I was completely dumbfounded. My mind went blank.

I was an orphan. After my parents died, Grandpa took me in. He relied on scavenging recyclables and bartering with the neighbors to keep me fed and clothed until I was all grown up.

After I'd finally established myself in the city, I wanted him to move in with me so he could enjoy a comfortable life. But he insisted on staying in the village, claiming he wasn't used to city life.

As for the well, I'd specifically hired a construction crew from Sunshire, the state capital, to set it up in our village, Hopeville, three years ago. I also paid to install a water pump and lay pipes that ran directly into every house.

The entire village got to use the water infrastructure for free.

To ensure Grandpa could live comfortably in the village, I did everything in my power to win over the rest of the villagers. I also paid to build a senior activity center for them. During the festive season, I hauled truckloads of groceries back to the village and gave them out door-to-door.

I always assumed that no one was made of stone. If I respected the villagers as my elders and treated them well, surely they would return my sincerity with kindness of their own.

"Madam Mitchell, the water from the well got contaminated because of the heavy rains. It has nothing to do with the quality of the construction." I did my best to restrain my anger and explain the situation to her.

"Don't give me that nonsense!" Madam Mitchell refused to listen to me. "Don't take us for fools just because we're from the countryside! You must've used lousy pipes! If you don't get back here today, dig a new well, and make this right…"

She whipped her head around and jabbed a finger at Grandpa. "Then that old bastard of a grandpa of yours can forget about having a moment of peace in this village! We'll come over and cause a scene every day. I can't wait to see how long he can stay alive under such circumstances!"

The call cut off abruptly, and when I called back, the phone had been turned off.

I didn't even change out of my pajamas before grabbing my keys and shooting out the door. I drove as fast as I could. All I could think of was the sight of Grandpa, cowering and trembling against the wall.

I never should've been kind. I should've known that some people didn't deserve an ounce of generosity.

Chapter 2

By the time I got back to the village, Grandpa's house was in ruins.

The pots of flowers he'd lovingly tended had been smashed to pieces, the dirt scattered everywhere. The drying rack had been knocked over and was now lying in the mud. I saw broken pans and tableware strewn all over the lawn.

There were even a few bloodstained bricks. Thankfully, the blood was from the chickens. They'd caught the two old hens Grandpa raised and thrown them violently to kill them right in front of him.

The front door was ajar. Grandpa was bent over, clutching a broom and breathing heavily as he swept shards of broken glass out of the house.

His hands were trembling. He could barely keep a steady grip on the broom.

"Grandpa." My voice sounded rough and cracked.

Grandpa was stunned to see me. Then his expression changed, and the broom slipped from his hand, clattering to the ground.

"Freddy..."

He took two steps toward me and nearly collapsed. I rushed over and caught him. His body felt like ice. When I touched his clothes, I could tell they were drenched with sweat.

"Are you hurt, Grandpa?" I asked as I checked him over from head to toe.

He shook his head. His weathered face was twisted with grief and indignation as he gripped my hand with surprising force.

"Freddy…" His voice was thick with both anger and sorrow. "Let's leave this place."

When he said those words, it felt like a hammer that struck me in the heart. I knew exactly what that meant to him.

Grandpa and Grandma had built this house themselves, brick by brick. It was home to a lifetime of his memories. In the past, no matter how much I'd tried to convince him, he'd adamantly refused to leave.

But now, he was suggesting it himself.

"Okay." I clenched my teeth, forcing down the heartache I felt. "Let's leave."

I'd spent years trying to cajole him into enjoying a comfortable life with me in the city. He always said the village was home—that his old neighbors were here, along with the scenery he knew by heart.

But now, he had finally seen the villagers for who they really were.

I straightened up and went into the house. After pulling out a suitcase, I quickly stuffed in a few of Grandpa's old clothes, along with the blood pressure medication he took every day.

"Let's go, Grandpa."

The sky was slowly lightening, and the rain had stopped. I carried the suitcase in one hand and supported Grandpa with the other.

However, the moment we reached the front gate, a crowd surged in and blocked our path. Madam Mitchell stood in the lead with a shovel in hand. She swung it against my car. The metal tip slammed into the front bumper, chipping off a patch of paint.

Then she shot me a glare and sneered. "Trying to run away, huh? Forget about it!"

I eyed her coldly. "Get out of the way."

But she simply spat on the ground. "You want me to get out of the way? You ruined the village well. None of us has access to clean water now. Yet you want to just dust off your hands and walk away? What makes you think we'll let you get off that easy?"

Chapter 3

I scoffed in anger. "You're accusing me of ruining the well? The rainstorm went on for three days, but no one even bothered to get a cover for the well. That's how the mud and silt got in. The water got contaminated because nobody bothered to maintain the well during the storm. It has nothing to do with the construction work."

I repeated my explanation once more.

But Madam Mitchell simply jutted her chin out and screeched back at me, "Stop using the rain as your excuse! The rain hit the neighboring village too, so why is it that their well is perfectly fine, huh? You must've embezzled the money for the well and bought shoddy pipes!

"And don't forget that you charged every household 20 dollars when you dug that well! There are over 100 households here, so that's over 2,000 dollars! Don't you dare swear to me that you didn't pocket any of that money!"

Her words got the crowd going, and they all started lashing out at me, shouting their heads off about the 20 dollars.

"She's right! I paid 20 dollars!"

"So did I!"

"Give it back! Give us back our hard-earned money!"

They all pointed at my face and cursed me out, their spit almost hitting me.

Three years ago, I hired the best construction crew in Sunshire to set up that well. They used the best pipes on the market, which had been certified to be thick and durable. The total cost for the entire water infrastructure came out to precisely 86,500 dollars.

I paid for everything out of my own pocket.

But to ensure that the villagers didn't take the water for granted because of how little they had to do to get it, I collected 20 dollars from each household just for symbolic purposes. I set aside their money for future maintenance costs.

Even though there were over 100 households in the village, the amount I collected only came out to 2,400 dollars. That wasn't even enough to pay for the water pump the crew installed.

Grandpa was shaking with rage. He pulled free from my grip and strode to the front. Pointing a trembling finger at Madam Mitchell, he shouted, "Have you no conscience?" My grandson paid more than 80,000 dollars out of his own pocket to build that well! He never took an extra cent from any of you!

"But now, you're accusing him of embezzling your money and ruining the well? How could anyone be as ungrateful as you lot?"

Grandpa's voice was loud, but it was soon drowned out by the curses from the crowd.

Derek Walters, another one of the villagers, pushed his way to the crowd. With his hands on his hips, he called out sarcastically, "Now, now, Mr. Sherman Senior, don't even try to cover for your grandson. 80,000 dollars? You've got to be kidding me!

"He's just a greenhorn fresh out of college. Where would he have that kind of money? He must've run off into the city with our money and seduced some wealthy woman to sponge off her!

"Now that the well is ruined, he must take full responsibility for that! We'll only drop this matter if he hands over 100,000 dollars."

100,000 dollars, huh?

They'd even settled on the price already.

I pulled Grandpa behind me. Shielding him with my body, I eyed the familiar faces before me.

When I was still young, I did receive a thing or two from these people. Madam Mitchell gave me a dinner roll once. Mr. Walters gave me an old coat.

I remembered these acts, so once I'd made something of myself, I'd done my best to repay the villagers.

But now, these familiar faces were sporting nasty, twisted expressions. They looked like a swarm of leeches that had caught the scent of blood.

"Fine." I nodded. "Since you're all so fixated on the numbers, let's settle this matter once and for all, right here in front of everyone."

I got my phone out and made a call. It rang three times before it connected.

"Ms. Shore." I'd called Erica Shore, the village council president.

The cursing from the villagers quietened down a bit.

"Oh, hi, Fred. Are you back in the village?"

Ms. Shore's voice sounded a bit awkward. Clearly, she knew what was going on, but she'd chosen to just stay out of it.

"I'm standing outside my grandpa's house right now." My gaze swept over Madam Mitchell and Mr. Walters. "Kindly bring over all the documentation and financial records for the well I built back then, along with all the invoices. Oh, and don't forget the ledger for the 2,400 dollars I collected from the villagers. Do it now."

My tone was firm, making it clear this wasn't up for discussion.

Ms. Shore stiffened. "Well… the sun hasn't even risen yet, and—"

"If you don't come over now, I'll have no choice but to call the police." I cut her off bluntly. "I'll report these people for trespassing, disturbing the peace, and willful destruction of private property. Considering the damage to Grandpa's house, they'll probably have to spend a few months behind bars."

Ms. Shore was silent for five seconds before saying, "I'll be right there."

I ended the call and looked at Madam Mitchell once more.

"Today, we're going to settle this account once and for all."