Chapter 118: That Time I Built a First-Generation New Town in South America (5)

TL: Skye

Libertad Harbor.

Five large passenger ships appeared beyond the horizon.

Ships flying the flag of San Marcos.

Two days after departing Venezuela.

The fleet carrying fifteen thousand workers had finally arrived in Libertad.

As the ships came alongside the pier, workers poured out onto the decks.

Then they stopped.

“...The roads are paved.”

The first to speak was a young man in his twenties.

In San Marcos, it was something people took for granted, but not for those who had come from Venezuela.

Venezuela’s roads were riddled with potholes after years without proper maintenance.

The sidewalk paving stones were broken, the traffic lights were out, and garbage littered the streets.

But here...

“The buildings are actually intact...”

“The cars are staying in their lanes.”

“There aren’t any homeless people on the streets.”

The workers murmured among themselves.

It was the moment they saw with their own eyes that San Marcos was better off than Venezuela.

SIA agents were waiting at the pier wearing badges labeled Entry Assistance.

Once the ships docked and the workers disembarked, the agents checked their names one by one.

“Your name, please?”

“José Ramírez.”

“Do you have any construction experience?”

“Yes. Fifteen years.”

“Good. Please board the blue bus over there.”

The blue buses were headed for the construction site.

Some of the workers, however, received different instructions.

“Let’s see. Your name is... Marcos Díaz?”

“That’s right.”

The agent glanced at the paperwork and saw a red dot beside the name.

A marker indicating a criminal record, based on the information provided by the Venezuelan side.

“Good. Please board the yellow bus over there.”

“Why am I getting on that one?”

“We’re sending the physically fit workers to a site where they can earn a little more. The work is somewhat harder, but the daily wage is 150% of the standard rate. Ah, it’s not insanely difficult or dangerous or anything. You’ll just be doing a bit more heavy lifting than the others.”

“Is... that so? Then I’m in!”

Marcos Díaz boarded the yellow bus without suspicion.

In truth, the yellow bus was not headed to a construction site.

It was headed straight for Tortilla Farm.

“All right! We’re leaving!”

And so the yellow buses, packed full of workers, pulled away spewing acrid exhaust.

At the same time.

The main gate of Tortilla Farm.

A line of outbound buses stood waiting.

Workers who had been judged to have completed the Rehabilitation Program were climbing aboard with their belongings.

Pierson was one of them.

One bag.

Inside were a change of clothes, a few pairs of underwear, and the letter Maria had given him.

And Pierson’s heart felt every bit as light as that bag.

I can leave!

I can get out and see my family!

Just as hope filled Pierson’s eyes, the farm’s main gate finally opened and the bus pulled out.

The outside world looked different after four years, starting with the sunlight.

It was the sunlight of freedom.

Pierson kept his eyes fixed on the window, taking in the world outside.

As the bus rattled along the unpaved road.

A line of yellow buses approached from the opposite direction, heading toward the farm.

When the outbound buses and inbound buses met on the narrow road, they slowed briefly and squeezed past one another.

Pierson looked out the window.

He saw unfamiliar faces inside the yellow buses.

He had no idea where they had come from, but for some reason, he felt sorry for them.

***

[San Marcos News!]

With a booming fanfare from the TV, the anchor’s face appeared on screen.

“Construction on the First-Generation New Town Project begins today. We now go live to our correspondent at the groundbreaking ceremony. Maria?”

The screen changed.

A vast plain.

Tens of thousands of workers stood in rows across an empty expanse of land that stretched beyond sight.

A podium had been erected before them.

The flag of San Marcos fluttered in the wind.

“Yes, I’m currently at the construction site for the first-generation New Towns on the outskirts of Libertad. As you can see, the site is enormous. A total of three self-sufficient New Towns are scheduled to be built here, each capable of housing five hundred thousand residents.”

The camera shifted toward the podium, broadcasting Yu-jin as he stepped onto the stage.

“His Excellency has just taken the podium. He will deliver a brief speech before breaking ground with the ceremonial first shovel.”

Yu-jin stood before the microphone.

“Today, a city will rise on this empty land.”

Tens of thousands of workers looked at Yu-jin.

Camera flashes burst.

Beside the State Broadcasting camera, Nicolas, president and reporter of San Marcos’s first private media outlet, Libertad Daily, kept pressing the shutter.

“Six years ago, I first came to this country.”

Beneath the fluttering flag, Yu-jin could not have looked more solemn.

“Back then, San Marcos had nothing. No paved roads, no proper hospitals, no schools for children to attend. More than half the population could not read, and worrying about whether there would be food tomorrow was simply part of everyday life.”

The workers listened in silence.

“But we made it happen.”

Strength entered Yu-jin’s voice.

“Highways linked every corner of the country. We expanded the port, built power plants, and raised steelworks. Factories began operating, and children began going to school.”

Yu-jin pointed to the vast empty land before him.

“And today, we take the next step.”

“......”

“A city will rise on this empty land.”

Yu-jin stepped forward.

“The homes you will live in will be built here. Homes where you wake up in the morning and see the Caribbean through your window. Homes that do not leak when it rains and whose walls do not collapse. Homes where you and your families can sleep without fear.”

“The schools your children will attend will be built here. Six years ago, going to school in this country was a privilege. Not anymore. Every child has the right to learn, and we will protect that right.”

“The factories where you will work will be built here. A city with jobs. A city where you go to work in the morning, come home in the evening, and eat dinner with your family. That is the city we intend to build.”

Yu-jin paused and looked over the workers.

“Some of you were born and raised in this country. Others may have crossed the sea from far away. But here, today, none of that matters.”

Yu-jin’s voice hardened.

“Only one thing matters. That you are standing here with a shovel in your hands. That you have stepped forward to build this country’s future together. That alone is enough.”

The wind blew again.

Yu-jin stepped down from the podium and picked up a shovel.

“Now, let’s begin.”

The shovel bit into the earth, sending dirt flying.

The first shovel of earth.

Tens of thousands erupted in cheers.

“Viva! Yu-jin! Viva! Presidente!”

Camera flashes burst.

Beside the State Broadcasting camera, Nicolas of Libertad Daily kept pressing the shutter.

*

Once the groundbreaking ceremony ended, the site began operating like one enormous machine.

During the first week, bulldozers leveled the ground, excavators dug the foundations, and trucks hauled gravel and sand.

Tens of thousands of workers moved with military precision.

Wake-up at 6 a.m.

Breakfast at 6:30.

On site at 7.

Lunch at noon.

Back to work at 1.

Off work at 6.

Supervisors drawn from the Engineer Corps were assigned by sector to manage construction progress, while Tortilla Construction engineers raced around the site carrying blueprints.

By the second week, foundation work was running two days ahead of schedule.

The workers from Tortilla Farm were better than expected. More accurately, they worked as if their lives depended on it.

The supervisors actually had to tell them to slow down and take it easy.

By comparison, the Venezuelan workers looked sorely lacking.

Some genuinely tried to work hard, but a significant number merely made a show of working while barely doing anything.

At least they were gradually improving as time passed. That was something, perhaps.

By the end of the third week, the foundation frames in Sector 1 began rising.

For the first time, visible structures were taking shape above the ground.

After inspecting the site, the Senior Secretary for Construction reported to Yu-jin.

“We’re two days ahead of schedule. There have been no major accidents, and no workers have left.”

Yu-jin nodded.

“Smooth sailing, then.”

“At this rate, I think we’re moving faster than we did during the highway construction.”

“Well, we’ve accumulated experience.”

After building the highways and the tourist city, Tortilla Construction’s civil engineering capabilities had improved dramatically.

Jeong Minsik, who was overseeing construction, had even boasted that when it came to civil engineering, they were no worse than Hyunhwa Construction.

“At this rate, I believe we can meet the target of supplying one hundred thousand housing units within a year.”

“Couldn’t ask for more.”

It was smooth sailing.

Everything was proceeding according to plan.

But one month after construction began, problems started to erupt.

The first problem broke out in the cafeteria.

Naturally, the construction-site cafeteria provided three meals a day.

Rice, bean stew, meat, fruit.

By San Marcos standards, it was an ordinary meal.

But to the workers from Venezuela, it might as well have been a feast.

And that was where the problem began.

The Venezuelan workers ate far too much.

Not just their own share, but the portions meant for the people waiting behind them.

It was the result of trauma from starvation, the ingrained fear that they might not get another chance to eat.

But the San Marcos workers waiting behind them were furious.

“Hey, there are people behind you! Don’t take so damn much! What are you, some kind of beggar...? Tch.”

“What?! Beggar?! What the hell did you just say?! Say it again!”

A fight that began over a trivial argument.

Something that could easily have blown over without becoming a serious issue.

“His Excellency was generous enough to give beggar bastards like you jobs and save your asses, and instead of showing some gratitude, you come here and start trouble?!”

“Don’t you know that precious Excellency of yours practically begged us to come over because he needed us?”

“This bastard dares insult His Excellency?!”

Once national pride entered the equation, the confrontation escalated, and before long...

“Those San Marcos bastards are looking down on us! Are we just going to stand here and take it?!”

A massive clash erupted.

Thud!

The moment one man got hit, the person beside him jumped in, and even the people trying to break it up ended up joining the fight.

Just like that, the cafeteria became a battlefield.

“I’ll kill you bastards!”

It spiraled out of control.

In the end, the disturbance was only brought under control after the soldiers assigned to site security deployed and fired their weapons.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

“Everybody freeze! From this moment on, anyone who moves will be considered part of the riot and fired upon!”

“......”

Only then did the fighting stop.

The aftermath was brutal.

123 injured.

Among them, 27 had suffered serious injuries, including fractures or worse.

And this problem was not confined to the New Town construction site.

“I can’t take this shit anymore! Hey! Everybody, let’s get out of here!”

The exact same chaos-on-top-of-chaos was unfolding at Tortilla Farm.

*****

Read more chapters on my Patreon - https://patreon.com/tlskye

If you enjoy this novel, please review and rate it at Novelupdates. Thanks! 😊

To receive the latest update notifications or report mistakes, join our Discord server linked below.'

.gg/woopread-708613326262894654