They Called Me Trash? Now I'll Hack Their World Chapter 154: Dinner

I woke up groggily, my mind taking several long seconds to rember where I was or what day it was.

The room was dim, filled with the warm orange light filtering through the shutters.

I blinked at the ceiling, processing.

Then I sat up, stretched my arms above my head until my spine cracked in several places, and swung my legs off the bed.

My body ached, muscles stiff, joints protesting, the ghost of exhaustion still sitting in my bones despite the rest.

I moved to the window and pushed the shutters open.

The sun was already descending toward the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink.

The village was winding down its daily work, the sounds of dinner preparations carrying on the breeze.

I ran a hand through my hair, still trying to shake off the fog.

I slept for almost a whole day?

The last thing I rembered was collapsing into bed soti after midnight. Which ant I’d been out for... what, sixteen hours?

No wonder I feel like I got hit by a wagon.

Moving to the washbasin, I splashed cold water on my face until the world felt more real, and dried off with the cloth hanging nearby.

Then I grabbed the small leather bag containing the vials, checked that they were still secure and intact, and headed out.

The walk to Sira’s house was quiet. Most people were inside preparing for evening als, the streets nearly empty except for a few children playing in the last of the daylight and an elderly man tending his garden.

I reached the house and knocked.

The door opened.

Sira stood there.

She looked better.

The pallor was gone completely, replaced by healthy color in her cheeks. Her eyes were bright, no longer shadowed by exhaustion.

She smiled and bowed slightly.

"Young Master. Welco."

"How are you feeling?" I asked.

"I’ve never felt better," she said simply, stepping back to let in. "Truly. It’s like... like I’d been walking through fog for months and suddenly it cleared."

She gestured inside.

The interior was brighter than last ti I’d been here. And it was crowded.

The three other infected patients sat at the table, the middle-aged man, the younger woman, and the elderly man with grey-streaked skin. All of them looked up as I entered, their expressions a mixture of awe and desperate hope.

Chief Zen stood near the far wall, his weathered face creased with a small smile.

And Agnes sat beside her mother’s empty chair, her eyes finding mine imdiately.

She smiled.

All of them—every single person in the room—stood as I entered and bowed in unison.

"Young Master."

I blinked, suddenly and acutely uncomfortable with the coordinated gesture of respect.

Then looked at Agnes, who just kept smiling like this was completely normal and expected.

"I think you already know why I’m here?" I said, looking at the three patients.

They nodded, still standing, their expressions painfully hopeful.

I turned to Chief Zen, raising an eyebrow.

He chuckled, the sound warm and unapologetic.

"Sira couldn’t sit quietly after what happened this morning. She told the others. They insisted on being here when you arrived." He shrugged.

"I ca to supervise. And to witness."

Of course.

I pulled the leather bag forward and carefully extracted the three vials, their faint blue shimr catching the lamplight.

"Sa as before," I said, eting each patient’s eyes in turn. "It will hurt. Your body will react strongly. But it passes, and when it does, the sickness stops spreading."

The middle-aged man stepped forward first.

"I understand," he said quietly, and held out his hand.

I gave him the vial.

He uncorked it, drank it in one swift motion, and handed the empty glass back.

The younger woman went next. Then the elderly man.

All three stood there, waiting.

For maybe thirty seconds, nothing happened.

Then the middle-aged man gasped, his hand flying to his chest.

The convulsions hit all three simultaneously, bodies jerking, muscles clenching, the sa violent cascade I’d witnessed with Sira.

Agnes moved imdiately to support the younger woman, helping her into a chair before she could fall.

Chief Zen steadied the elderly man, strong hands on the man’s shoulders, murmuring quiet reassurance.

I watched the middle-aged man, my debug vision active, tracking the readings.

[ENTITY_SCAN: male_infected_01]

pathogen_lattice: DESTABILIZING anchor_failures: 31%...58%...79%...

convulsion_intensity: HIGH → MODERATE → DECREASING

status: SUCCESSFUL_PROGRESSION

The dark lines—visible on all three, marking arms and necks and the hollows of their faces—began to fade.

Slowly at first, then faster, the corruption receding like tide going out.

The convulsions decreased. The ragged breathing evened out.

One by one, they stilled.

The younger woman opened her eyes first, tears already running down her face as she looked at her hands, at the skin that was clear for the first ti in weeks.

"It’s gone," she whispered. "I can feel it... it’s gone."

The elderly man let out a sound that was half-laugh, half-sob, his weathered face breaking into the widest smile I’d seen from him.

The middle-aged man just stood there, trembling, staring at nothing as the reality of it hit him.

Then he moved.

Faster than I expected from soone who’d just been through that.

He crossed the room in three strides and tackled .

Arms around my shoulders, weight hitting solidly enough that I staggered back several steps, nearly losing my balance entirely.

"Thank you!" His voice was thick with emotion, muffled against my shoulder.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you—"

"Easy," I managed, trying to stay upright. "I need to breathe—"

He pulled back imdiately, his face red, tears streaming openly.

"I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, I just..." He bowed, deep and formal, his hands shaking. "Forgive , Young Master, I didn’t an to—"

"It’s alright," I said quickly, waving my hand.

But the dam had broken.

The younger woman was crying openly, her hands pressed to her mouth.

The elderly man had his face in his hands, shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

Sira stood beside her daughter, one arm around Agnes’s shoulders, both of them watching with glistening eyes.

Chief Zen’s expression was carefully controlled, but I could see the emotion working beneath it, pride, relief, gratitude all mixed together.

"Thank you," the younger woman said, her voice breaking. "My daughter... I have a daughter, she’s only six, and I thought I’d never see her grow up. I thought—"

She couldn’t finish, just dissolved into fresh tears.

The elderly man looked up, his face wet, and bowed from where he sat.

"You saved us," he said simply. "We were dying. And you saved us."

Agnes’s eyes were bright with unshed tears, her smile trembling at the edges but holding.

Chief Zen stepped forward, his hand extended.

I took it, and he gripped it firmly with both hands.

"Thank you," he said, his voice carrying weight. "On behalf of these people and their families, thank you. This debt cannot be easily repaid."

"You don’t—"

"We do," he interrupted gently but firmly. "And we will rember it."

He released my hand and smiled.

"Co to my house for dinner tonight. Please. It’s the least we can do, and I think my granddaughter would be disappointed if you refused."

His expression turned slightly mischievous.

"She’s been cooking since this afternoon, preparing sothing special."

I sighed internally.

"Alright," I said. "Dinner sounds good."

Chief Zen’s smile widened, and he clapped once on the shoulder.

"Excellent. Co by in an hour. That should give you ti to... clean up."

He glanced aningfully at my clothes, rumpled from sleeping in them, stained with ink and gods knew what else from two days of alchemy work.

Fair point.

I nodded, said my goodbyes to the still-emotional patients, and headed back toward my room.

The sun was nearly down now, the sky shifting from orange to deep purple.

An hour to make myself presentable.

Then dinner with the village chief.

What could possibly go wrong?