He pointed at the young leaves growing faster than normal.
"If they aren't… there's no way they could grow this quickly…"
Lucas didn't know how alchemy worked in this world, and he wasn't about to explain the system.
"…Yes," he said briefly. "Alchemy."
Geralt was instantly dazzled.
"Amazing… I had no idea you studied alchemy! No wonder the seedlings are so stable!"
Behind him, Silvara narrowed her eyes.
"…Alchemy?"
Her gaze scanned Lucas up and down, as if searching for a missing IQ.
"With your shallow brain?"
Lucas let out a slow, tired exhale.
"Keep insulting me if you want. I study things in secret."
Another lie. His energy today was too low for long explanations.
Geralt looked at him with sympathy.
"It must be difficult, Young Master…"
"Enough. Don't think about it," Lucas replied curtly.
Silvara snorted.
No respect, no politeness—and Lucas didn't need either.
What mattered was keeping this field alive.
He examined the planting pattern again.
Neat rows, yes.
But no empty spacing functioning as drainage.
"Is something wrong?" Geralt asked carefully.
Lucas pointed at the row spacing.
"This won't work. If heavy rain comes, water will pool in the middle.
We need a crop channel."
Geralt's eyebrows shot up.
"A crop… channel?
Do you mean… a water furrow?"
Lucas nodded.
"Yes. A water furrow. A long gap between the rows so rainwater flows out.
And this one is too narrow. We need to widen it."
Geralt looked at him with newfound respect.
"Not many farmers in this village know such techniques, Young Master… most just plant and hope."
Silvara studied Lucas from the side, surprised but unwilling to admit it.
"So… you know basic irrigation?"
Lucas tapped the soil with his hoe.
"Yes. Since long ago. This is easy."
Geralt was moved.
Silvara stunned.
Lucas didn't care—he just wanted his tomatoes to survive.
"Alright, old man," Lucas said, pacing and measuring with his steps.
"Today we're making the main water furrow. Wide and deep. So this field stays safe."
Geralt nodded. "Yes, Young Master!"
Silvara remained doubtful, thinking,
'There's no way his shallow brain understands alchemy…'
Lucas walked forward and raised The Great Hoe.
Crack.
His spine popped.
"Fuck…" he flinched.
I should lighten this hoe…
He twisted the end of the hoe—lightening it drastically—and began digging.
The soil split cleanly—neat, precise—like he had been born with a hoe in his hands.
The system chimed.
[DING]
(≧∇≦)/ Host lied successfully.
+5 PP
Reason: "White Lie" used for agricultural efficiency.
[DING]
( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) Also… nice irrigation knowledge.
+18 EXP
---
Lucas continued working.
Behind him, Geralt was stunned.
Silvara stayed silent, but her eyes could not look away from the way Lucas carved the furrow—
as if he had spent years doing this,
even though the Young Master she knew only ever got drunk and visited brothels.
A few minutes passed.
Lucas and Geralt had already finished the first water furrow—long, straight, and deep.
Silvara stood at the edge, claymore in hand, watching Lucas like she was witnessing a natural phenomenon that shouldn't logically exist.
"There's no way an idiot like you could make soil channels this clean…" she muttered.
Lucas didn't respond.
He was busy patting down the sides of the furrow, making sure rainwater wouldn't collapse the walls later.
Geralt swallowed hard.
"T-This… this is beautiful… like a divine brushstroke…"
Lucas pointed at another spot.
"Later, we'll make a branch here. If the flow gets too fast, the soil will slide."
Geralt nodded rapidly. "Yes, Young Ma—"
DUM! DUM! DUM!
Heavy footsteps sliced through the air.
Not one.
Not two.
Six village guards emerged from the field boundary, armor clinking, spears raised.
Silvara reacted instantly—
her arm moved as fast as a gust of wind—
FWIP! CLANK!
Her claymore was already raised within seconds.
"Wait! What is this? Why are you coming here armed?!"
Her tone was sharp; her body instantly shifted to a defensive stance.
The guards froze—some even trembling—at the sight of a high-ranking knight ready to cut them down.
One of them immediately lifted both hands.
"Knight Silvara, please calm yourself! We are not here to fight!"
Lucas stopped digging.
Geralt stood stiff like a statue.
Silvara didn't lower the claymore.
"Then explain. Now."
The leader swallowed, then looked at Lucas.
"Orders from Healer Mae."
His voice shook, but he forced it to stay firm.
"Today… Young Master Lucian Voss will be judged."
The wind seemed to pause.
The sound of Lucas's hoe dropping to the soil hit like a small explosion.
"…Huh?" Lucas lifted his head, expression blank.