Apocalypse: I'm Bound to a Mobile Lottery Shop

Chapter 184: Chapter 184: Pomegranate

Everyone was still reeling from the shock that the fruit tree could actually bear fruit. The single fruit was passed around from hand to hand.

It finally returned to the hands of the prize’s owner. He looked at it from every angle and said hesitantly, "Is this a pomegranate?"

Then he glanced at the quiet fruit tree. "No more? Does it only bear fruit once a day? Is it random?"

The fruit tree couldn’t speak, so of course it couldn’t tell him. He could only cradle the pomegranate and fall into deep thought.

He had previously said something about everyone who saw it getting a share, but how was he supposed to split this? The arils inside were so small, not even as big as his fingernail.

It was barely enough for him to eat by himself, let alone share. He hadn’t even given any away yet, but the mere thought of it made his heart ache.

He clutched the pomegranate and remained silent for a long time. The others, smelling its fragrance, began to get greedy and urged him on.

"Hurry up and peel it! Let’s see what’s inside!"

"Yeah, yeah! Don’t be stingy, just let us see!"

The man held the pomegranate tightly. Hearing them, he glanced at the speaker and asked tentatively, "Just a look?"

Of course, they had no intention of just looking, but the top priority right now was to get a taste of that pomegranate!

So everyone clamored in agreement, "Right, just a look! It’s just that we haven’t seen a pomegranate in so long."

The man was always easily persuaded and a bit of a pushover. Plus, he was the lowest-ranked among the group... so he could only nod.

Lily Hart kindly offered, "Need a knife?" She was referring to a small fruit knife.

But they just brandished their daggers, which were still caked with mud from digging pits just moments ago.

Unfazed, one of them pulled out a rag, wiped off the mud, and gave the dagger a couple of careless rinses in a nearby water bucket.

There. A brand-new dagger.

Then, with a few swift chops—CHOP, CHOP, CHOP—he decisively cut the pomegranate into four pieces.

Purplish-red juice gushed out, and someone cried, "Hey, hey, hey! Don’t waste it!"

With quick reflexes, Lily Hart handed over a glass tumbler, and they unhesitatingly took it to catch the dripping juice.

It wasn’t much, just a little bit at the bottom of the glass, but to them, it was enough for everyone to get a lick.

While one person held the glass to catch the juice, another pried the pomegranate open by hand. It was split into four fairly even pieces, clearly revealing the plump, bright red arils inside.

Because it had been cut with a knife, the edges were very neat, but a good number of the small arils had been damaged, which pained everyone to see.

But they didn’t mind. As long as it was still edible, that was all that mattered. They turned and stared expectantly at the pomegranate’s owner.

The owner, meanwhile, was cradling the four pieces, his mouth watering nonstop. He agonized for a good while before finally making up his mind. He took out the smallest piece and shoved it at them.

"Out of sight, out of mind," he muttered, waving his hand dismissively. "You guys take this piece and split it. The rest is mine!"

There were eight big men in total. Seven of them now crowded around a quarter of a pomegranate, staring at it intently, practically drooling.

The eighth man clutched his three pieces and squatted by the sapling, beginning to eat them one precious aril at a time.

They decided to entrust the task of dividing the pomegranate to the fairest and most impartial person among them. A quick glance around told them no such person existed in their group.

In the end, their gazes landed on Boss Hart. Seven pairs of eyes stared imploringly at Lily Hart.

Lily Hart asked, "Can I help you?"

Then, she saw the small piece of pomegranate placed on the table and heard their pleading voices, "Boss Hart, you’re the most impartial. Please help us divide it evenly."

’Huh?’ Lily Hart thought. ’How do you divide a pomegranate evenly? One aril for you, one aril for me?’

Looking at them, she guessed that was exactly what they meant. So, she gently peeled away the rind.

The arils were plump, each one as tempting as a ruby. The men’s stares grew even more intense.

Two or three more groups of customers arrived. They saw the tempting pomegranate and smelled the sweet fragrance hanging in the air.

They stopped scratching their tickets and just stared, falling unusually quiet and silent as they drank in the sight.

Lily Hart carefully picked out a perfect aril, placed it in the first man’s palm, and said, "Don’t eat it yet. Everyone wait."

Then she gave one to the other six men, muttering as she went, "One for you, and one for you."

After nearly ten rounds, she finally finished dividing the small piece of pomegranate. "Is this fair?" she asked.

It actually didn’t amount to much—fewer than ten arils per person—but they were all extremely appreciative and satisfied.

One man looked back and forth at his share, unsure which aril to eat first. Another was more brutish, simply tossing them all into his mouth at once.

Yet another savored his, one by one. Their blissful eating was torture for the onlookers.

People started asking, "Is that a prize from a scratch-off?"

"You can really win prizes? And fruit?"

"Yeah, this is too amazing! Boss, I want to play too!"

Lily Hart’s ears were about to fall off from hearing the same things over and over. At every base she visited, she was met with skepticism.

’I guess my business still isn’t big and strong enough,’ she thought. ’When it is, people will only welcome, trust, and look forward to my arrival~’

With that, another busy day began. But strangely, although Auspice Base seemed very large, not many residents were coming out.

It was almost noon, yet fewer than a hundred people had come to buy scratch-offs outside the RV. Lily Hart stood inside the vehicle, placed her hands on her hips, and spun in a circle.

Not only was the lottery stall slow, but the convenience store and bath center were also seeing little traffic. It was as if they had suddenly entered an economic winter.

She felt something wasn’t right. Auspice Base was supposed to be the largest base in Gilden City, so why wasn’t anyone out and about?

’Is it because the weather’s too hot, and no one wants to go out and kill zombies?’ she wondered. ’But then what do they eat and drink?’

She couldn’t help but grab one of the customers from the first group and ask, "Are there always so few people in your base? Why is no one coming out?"

The pomegranate customer stiffened. He just lowered his head, staring at his scratch-off ticket, his hand gripping the small golden scraper so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

He stammered, "I-I don’t know. Maybe it’s too early? Or too sunny? They just don’t want to come out, I guess..."

Lily Hart frowned. She looked up at the glaring sun; it was indeed scorching, but she had come prepared.

When people at previous bases had complained about the sun, Lily Hart had added awnings that extended from the top of the first floor.

They were on all sides, covering a ten-meter radius around the RV. It wasn’t a huge area, but every bit of shade helped.

Besides, it wasn’t hot near her at all. Within the RV’s protective radius, the temperature was a constant 20-25 degrees Celsius.

She was about to press him for more details when an excited roar from nearby cut off her train of thought.

Lily Hart looked over to see a customer holding a scratch-off ticket high with both hands, his face alight with excitement. He ran two laps around the RV before finally stopping.

Only then did his emotions settle down. He excitedly ran up to Diana Sharp and announced in a loud voice, "I want to redeem my prize!"

It was as if he wanted the whole world to know that he had won!

Diana Sharp took it with a smile and expertly fed it to the Lucky Cat, which quickly spat out a pack of tissues.

The pack was palm-sized, with yellow packaging decorated with cute little white flowers.

The customer stared, dumbfounded. He took the pack of tissues and turned it over and over, but aside from the little white flowers, there were no other words or descriptions on it.

He asked dazedly, "What’s this for? I spent one hundred and fifty points to scratch this!"