The struggle for work

The morning sun rose over Loguetown, and the storm had passed. If not for the damp ground, no one would have believed that just last night, a winter storm had swept through. Luca opened his eyes, his stomach growling, reminding him of his current situation. He got up, gathered his soaked blanket, emptied a trash container, and placed the blanket inside, hoping it would still be there when he returned. If he couldn't find shelter, it would be his only support once again.

He walked down the road, his body aching with every step due to sleeping on a hard surface. He pushed through the pain and kept moving forward. His goal for the day was to use his basic carpentry skills to find a job—at least enough to afford some food.

As he walked, people instinctively moved away from him, repelled by his dirty clothes and foul odor. Seeing this made Luca frown. As someone from the 21st century, the way they treated him bothered him.

Relying on the memories of the body's original owner, he made his way to the most famous carpenter in town.

After some time, he stood in front of a large three-story building. Compared to the surrounding buildings, it was three or four times wider. Above the entrance, a yellow sign read: "Welcome to the Number One Carpenter, Bako!"

He approached the entrance, but before he could enter, a voice called out from behind him. "Where do you think you're going, you filthy brat?"

Luca turned to see a large man approaching with a smug smile. "This is Bako-san's workshop. Do you think just anyone can walk in here? Get lost before I make you!"

Luca looked at him and guessed from his uniform that he was a guard. "I just want to app—"

Before he could finish his sentence, the guard shoved him. "Get out of here before I beat you up!"

Luca considered arguing, but the man was nearly two meters tall and very overweight, while Luca himself was barely 1.30 meters and extremely thin. Arguing would only end badly for him, so he swallowed his anger, lowered his head, and walked away.

He tried another shop, but he received the same response. Another guard stopped him and threw him out. Standing by the roadside, he sighed. "This is going to be harder than I thought..."

He continued wandering, trying four more workshops, but all he got was rejection. At one shop, a worker even threw a piece of wood at him to chase him away.

After so much rejection, frustration and helplessness began to creep in. "God, what am I supposed to do? Will I keep living off trash and sleeping in the streets?"

At this point, he was wandering aimlessly. Even when he saw a workshop, he didn't bother approaching, knowing exactly how they would react.

"Thud... thud... thud... thud..." As he passed by one of the shops, the sound of a hammer striking nails caught his attention. Without thinking, he turned toward the source of the noise.

He saw a man with messy hair and an unkempt beard, a cigarette hanging from his lips as he worked on something Luca couldn't quite identify. He stared for a while before making a decision. "This will be my last attempt. If it doesn't work, I'll try something else."

He approached the workshop and said, "Hello, sir."

The carpenter stopped working and looked at him. "What do you want, kid?"

"I'm looking for a job. If you need a good assistant, I can do the work. I have experience in carpentry, so I'm not a beginner."

--- Tavis' Perspective (Workshop Owner):

It was an ordinary day at work when a small kid walked in, asking for a job. At first, I wanted to refuse, but when he claimed he wasn't a beginner, I glanced around my workshop. Wood shavings covered the floor, and my tools were gathering dust.

I decided to give him a chance. I looked at him and said, "You said you have some skills, right?"

"Yes, sir," the boy replied.

"Alright. See that pile of wood over there? Make me a medium-sized barrel."

--- End of Tavis' Perspective.

When I heard he was giving me a chance, I was thrilled. But the moment he asked me to make a barrel, my excitement disappeared. The problem? I had no idea how to make a damn barrel. I hesitated before saying, "I don't know how to make a barrel, but I can build a box, a chair, or a table."

Tavis looked at me, hesitated for a moment, then tossed me a hammer. "Alright, make me a sturdy box."

I grabbed the hammer, feeling its weight, and nodded. Even though I wasn't confident I could make a box that met his standards, I had to try. I walked over to the pile of wood and selected four rectangular pieces—each 40 cm long and 1 meter wide—along with two square pieces, each 40 cm on each side. I also picked out smaller pieces to use as reinforcements and began nailing everything together.

After about half an hour, I finished my work and looked toward the workshop owner.

--- Tavis' Perspective:

After telling the kid to make a box, he carefully selected his materials and got to work. He was slow, but given his size and appearance, he looked no older than 11 or 12. I figured I might as well take him in.

I looked at the boy and said, "The box is flawed, not very sturdy, and you took too long to make it. But despite that, I'll take you in as my assistant. I won't pay you, but you'll get three meals a day and learn the trade from me."

"Understood, sir!"

"Alright. My name is Tavis. You can call me 'Boss' or 'Mr. Tavis.'"

"Got it, Boss."

--- End of Tavis' Perspective.

I stepped into the workshop, glancing around at the hammers, saws, and various tools. The scent of sawdust filled the air, and a faint smile appeared on my face. "This is the beginning of the road."

---

Author's Note: Psychic powers will appear in the upcoming chapters.