His intent to rest vanished the moment his eyes caught Silvara's beauty—her presence disturbed him more than soothed him.
Lucas let out a long sigh, sweat dripping from his temple. The Great Hoe was already stuck in the soil, his shoulders still sore. His gaze swept toward Silvara, who stood at the edge of the field with her hand on her sword's hilt, as if every second Lucas was bound to cause trouble.
"Tch…" Lucas lowered his head, then tilted it back up with a snarl. "Hey, Silver Head. Standing there like some angry dog won't help. Go grab drinks from the manor—and plenty of food while you're at it. For me and him."
He jabbed a finger toward the old man working the soil. "Oh right, what's your name, old man?"
The man paused, wiping sweat from his brow. "Geralt, Young Master. Folks usually call me… Gera."
Lucas nodded, but narrowed his eyes at Silvara who still hadn't moved. "See? Gera just got here. And so did you, Silver."
Silvara frowned. "So?"
"So you're already making trouble, while Gera's already set on earning money." Lucas shot back, mocking.
"Don't just stand there. Bring drinks and food. Or do you plan to keep posing like some sword-wielding statue?"
Silvara scoffed, face red with anger, but finally turned and stormed off toward the manor.
Lucas turned to Geralt, patting his shoulder. "Come on, Old Gera. Let's keep going. I hate when work stalls."
Soil cracked open hole after hole. Lucas and Geralt kept digging, the rhythm of the old man's hoe meeting The Great Hoe whose weight could be adjusted. Lucas occasionally smirked, though his mouth was full of curses, hands never stopping.
Geralt looked impressed, though it was clear Lucas cursed more than he breathed. "Still… you work rather diligently, Young Master."
"Don't praise me. I just want this done fast." Lucas growled, swinging again.
Minutes later, Silvara returned. In her hands was a large basket filled with bottles of water, loaves of bread, cheese, even warm soup. By the time she arrived at the field, most of the holes were already lined up neatly.
"Eh?" Silvara stared in disbelief. "You're almost finished?!"
Lucas looked up, a broad grin on his face. "Heh. See? When I work, I actually work."
Geralt chuckled. "Young Master never sits still."
Silvara snorted, setting the basket down by the field.
Finally, the 60th hole was dug. Lucas collapsed to the ground for a moment, then reached into his pouch for seeds. Oddly, the pouch felt heavy—he pulled out his coin bag instead. His eyes widened in panic. "Huh? Don't tell me it fell?!"
He dug into his pocket again. The seed bag was just buried under the coin pouch. Lucas exhaled in relief. "Hhh… okay, let's start."
He dropped one seed into each hole, gesturing for Geralt to cover them. "I'll plant, you cover. Teamwork."
Geralt nodded, obeying at once.
But Silvara suddenly stepped forward. "Leave it to me." She snatched the seed pouch from Lucas's hand.
"Eh, hey—" Lucas was startled.
Silvara closed her eyes, drawing a deep breath. A faint glow shimmered at her fingertips, then she blew gently. The seeds floated, spreading neatly, each one dropping perfectly into a hole. As if the wind itself bent to her command.
Lucas gawked. "The hell was that? Magic trick?"
Geralt was awestruck, while Silvara folded her arms. "Now hurry. Cover all the holes."
The two of them bent down again, shoveling soil over hole after hole. Before long, the freshly broken ground was smooth again, tomato seeds buried within.
The three sat beneath a tree, the basket of food open. Geralt drank with trembling hands, uneasy at sharing a seat with a Young Master and a noble knight.
Lucas chugged a bottle dry, then bit into bread so hard crumbs fell down his chin. His clothes were filthy with dirt, face slick with sweat, shoes caked in mud. He looked like a beggar.
But he smirked sideways at Silvara. "Hhh… turns out you're useful in farming too, Silver."
Silvara snapped. "I'm a knight! Not a farmer!"
Lucas shot back instantly. "Don't look down on farmers, idiot! Without them, what would you eat every day? Your sword?!"
Silvara froze. The words hit—not because they were harsh, but because they strangely made sense. She fell silent, glancing at Lucas in confusion. "What exactly are you thinking?"
Lucas just kept chewing bread. "Eat first. Don't ask too much."
Evening came. The sun tilted, long shadows stretching across the earth. Lucas pulled out his coin pouch, ready to pay Geralt. But when the golden coin glinted in his hand, he hesitated.
Geralt waited, face tense.
Lucas raised a single gold coin. Geralt smiled faintly—nothing much.
Lucas lowered the coin back into the pouch, and Geralt's face instantly fell.
Lucas pulled out two coins. Geralt's eyes lit up with joy.
Lucas pretended to put them back—Geralt's face sank again.
Lucas took out three coins. Geralt almost beamed, wrinkles creasing with his smile.
Lucas snorted, weighing it quickly. Finally, he handed over two gold coins into the old man's rough hands.
"Take it. Come back tomorrow. If your child's still sick, borrow money from me not from the loan sha— I mean, the moneylenders!"
Geralt was stunned, eyes glistening. He bowed deeply. "Ye... Yes, Thank you… Young Master… thank you…"
He hurried off, nearly jogging, eager to reach the healer as fast as possible.
Lucas leaned back against the tree, gazing at the dusky sky. The Great Hoe lay beside him, faintly gleaming in the sunset.
[DING!]
[+30 EXP, +10 Progression Points]
[Reason: Completion of First Planting Phase + Fair Wages Paid]
A panel popped up with a cheeky emoticon:
(＾▽＾)／ [Congrats, Host! From belly holes to soil holes—real progress!]
Lucas hurled a piece of bread at the panel. "Shut up, bastard."
He thought the system would finally leave him alone, but the glow lingered, flickering again.
[DING!]
[Level Up! Host has reached Lv.2]
[All Basic Stats +1]
[Status – Host: Lucian Voss]
Level: 2
EXP: 106 / 200
Strength: 3 (+1)
Agility: 4 (+1)
Stamina: 3 (+1)
Mana: 5 (+1)
Reputation (RP): -9,999,999
A smug emoticon flashed across the panel:
(¬↓¬) [Wow… You're officially less trash than yesterday.]
Lucas snorted, wiping the crumbs off his chin. "Tch. Still trash talk, huh."
Silvara, who couldn't see the system panel, frowned. "Who are you yelling at? Are you insane?"