The Farming Saint in the Starry Wasteland (Elizabeth Schofield) novel Chapter 530

Chapter 530 A Hunger Beyond Monopoly

If she were judging this as a consumer, she would choose Tycoon Farm’s produce herself. No question.

The last traces of sweetness lingered on her tongue long after the strawberry was gone.

Cyndi stared at her fingers, stained with a faint smear of red juice, and said nothing for a very long time.

The study door never opened.

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From the direction of the bedrooms came the muffled sound of Deborah humming a lullaby, her voice low and patient, trying to soothe a child to sleep.

The night deepened.

Cyndi went to the kitchen and washed her hands. She didn’t return to the bedroom. Didn’t try the study door again.

She walked to the living room couch, sat down, and activated the holoscreen on her wrist.

The display lit up with unread work emails, tomorrow’s to–do list, and a preview file from the regional manager about next month‘ promotional campaign upgrade.

She stared at the screen, at the words and charts that once made her pulse quicken with purpose and drive. Now they looked foreign. Almost absurd.

Enhanced promotional strategy?

At its core, it was nothing more than finding new ways to disguise coercive sales tactics, squeezing customers harder while tightening the pressure on employees until neither side could breathe.

She shut the screen off, then tossed the terminal aside.

Curling herself into one corner of the oversized couch, she pulled a thin blanket over herself and turned out the lights.

And there, in the dark, she lay awake staring at the ceiling, where faint city glow drifted in through the windows in pale silver

shadows.

It was a sleepless night for Cyndi.

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She just lay there, listening to the distant, soft rhythms of breathing from another room, listening to the occasional low hum of a hovercar passing outside, listening to the chaos inside her own skull–the contradictions, the exhaustion–as it slowly faded into something empty and quiet.

Somewhere during that endless night, many of the things she had stubbornly believed in began to crack apart in silence.

Many things she had held onto for years crumbled in that single night. And in the cracks they left behind, a vast, disorienting emptiness began to spread.

The night was gentle. But gentleness could not reach the winter settling into some people’s bones.

On the coffee table, the bowl of washed strawberries sat alone in the dark, giving off their faint, untasted sweetness.

Chapter 330 A Hunger Reyonu Monopoly

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Meanwhile, Seafarm Group’s monopoly across the Outer Sectors had grown increasingly aggressive. Its absolute control over staple animal–protein products such as meat, eggs, and dairy had given the corporation confidence to push its sales practices further and further without restraint.

What began as simple product bundling had evolved into outright forced consumption.

Want to buy a carton of fresh eggs?

Fine. Then you were also required to purchase a case of Seafarm nutritional supplements Rearing half their shelf life, or several packs of grotesquely overpriced synthetic vegetables with the texture of damp insulation foare,

Want fresh milk for your child?

Of course! But only as part of a “family wellness package” bundled together with expensive fruit from one of Seafarm’s failing subsidiary brands.

Scenes like this played out daily inside Seafarm supermarkets.

“Why? I just want two cartons of eggs!” A young mother demanded one afternoon, clutching a crying child against her shoulder while pointing furiously at the expensive eggs behind the counter.

The employee didn’t blink. He merely gestured toward the towering stacks of nutritional supplements and synthetic jerky nearby. “Ma’am, this is part of our updated balanced nutrition package. Individual egg purchases are no longer permitted under company policy. For the health and wellness of your family, we strongly recommend the full bundle.”

“I don’t need that stuff! I just need eggs!” The woman snapped, her voice trembling.

“Policy is policy.” The staff’s voice stayed cold, mechanical. “Or you’re welcome not to buy anything at all.”

Murmurs rippled through the queue behind her. Faces twisted with frustration and resignation.

Some people swore under their breath. Some sighed. But in the end, most of them gritted their teeth and bought the bundle anyway for the sake of their children or family. They paid reluctantly, carrying away heavy bags weighted down with resentment: much as merchandise.

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