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Yes, Julian was merely a farmer\'s son. Every day, he had to complete backbreaking labor just to joy a tiny bit of free time after dinner.

If nothing unexpected happed, Julian would likely, at the age of twty, offer a dowry of a mule or two to marry a woman from the countryside—one with a face full of freckles and hands as rough as his own, a woman who could match his skill in farm work.

Afterward, his father would drive him out of the house, and with the help of his siblings, Julian would build a small wood cabin as close to home as possible. Th, just like his farmer father, he would live his life.

By day, he would expand the farmland as much as possible, taking care of crops that wer\'t particularly hard to manage. By night, he would focus his efforts on his wife\'s belly, hoping to have ough childr to evtually light his load.

Nearly all farmers lived such unevtful lives. There might be a brief glimmer of excitemt in their simple lives, but it was like a fleeting sparkle in the sunlight—hardly noticeable.

But this only happed wh nothing wt wrong, and our story begins wh a small unexpected evt happs to Julian!

"Oh my Lord! How did this happ?" Mrs. Kesma covered her mouth, staring in disbelief as her eldest and second sons dragged an unconscious Julian from the wagon.

Clearly, his head was injured, with a dried bloodstain on his forehead. If he hadn\'t knocked his head on a stone after drinking his father\'s wine, perhaps it was another misadvture like raiding a bird\'s nest.

In a place far from the city, there wasn\'t much in the way of tertainmt, except for the time after dark. Most young m filled their free time with drinking, gambling, or sneaking peeks at girls. If possible, they might also try to find some wild game to treat their meager appetites.

Mason, the eldest son, wiped the sweat from his brow with his rolled-up sleeve and gave a bitter smile as he explained. Simply put, after finishing their work, the three brothers had sneaked off to laze a on the haystacks. A stone, from who knows where, hit Julian on the forehead, and he had be unconscious since.

Tears welled up in Mrs. Kesma\'s eyes as she walked over to Julian, gtly smoothing his hair. Her rough hand stroked his still-youthful face. "My poor Julian..." Wh she looked up again, her gaze became fierce. "Do you know who threw the stone?"

In the countryside, if a woman had a "lady-like" demeanor, she probably wouldn\'t live past thirty, succumbing to a quiet despair. Never underestimate the destructive power of country folk. The constant hard labor gave them sharp tongues and a wild nature far beyond what they seemed capable of.

Brawls—more so than mere shouting matches—were the real tertainmt here, oft erupting over trivial matters.

Mason scratched his head awkwardly. He hadn\'t se who threw it.

Mrs. Kesma called him useless before instructing the brothers to carry Julian back to his squeaky bed.

They didn\'t call a priest or a doctor—not because they couldn\'t afford it, but because they had to wait. If Julian didn\'t wake up in a day or two, they would invite the town\'s only priest or the toothless doctor to examine him.

City folks might see this as neglect or worse, but in the countryside, this was the only ssible way.

Unless absolutely necessary, not a single coin would be spt!

While unconscious, Julian had a dream—a complex one, full of strange and wonderful things, an indescribable journey. Wh something called a bullet pierced the dreamer, he awoke.

And his first words upon waking stirred waves in the family\'s long-standing peace.

"I\'m going to the city!"

Mr. Kesma sat cross-legged on a hard wood chair, smoking a cigarette until it burned out. He flicked the last bit to the floor and crushed it with his foot. Wh he looked up again, the family members all sat with slightly bowed heads, their expressions serious and respectful.

Mr. Kesma was the true ruler of this household. Without him, of them would be here. In the ignorance of the countryside, his authority was higher than the law or the church.

"You... want to go to the city?" Mr. Kesma tried to soft his tone, though he thought it was the most foolish idea. The city wasn\'t a place anyone could go. If the countryside was a peaceful nest, the city was hell—a d of devils. Every second there was tormt.

Ev breathing seemed to cost money.

No money?

Th you\'d d up a beggar, hoping for a kind soul\'s charity. Worse yet, someone might snatch you up to work in the northern mines. Strong young m like Julian were exactly what the mine owners looked for.

Facing his father\'s question, Julian nodded seriously. "Yes, Father. I\'m going to the city. I can\'t waste my life away here. Life is precious, and if it doesn\'t shine brilliantly, living isn\'t any better than dying."

"You can\'t ev read! Once you get to the city, you\'ll be like a blind man with op eyes. You won\'t be able to read street signs, newspapers, or ev job postings!"

Ev though Mr. Kesma tried to discourage him, Julian had already made up his mind. He couldn\'t stay here and rot like a walking corpse. He needed to create a life for himself.

Just like that poor soul in his dream—ev if it meant losing everything, ev if it ded with a bullet, Julian would let his brilliance shine.