CHAPTER 32: PLANTING THE SEEDS OUTSIDE OF PORTAL

He lingered for a moment longer, staring at the tilled soil as if he could already see trees sprouting, branches heavy with glowing apples or shimmering berries. His pulse quickened. Today he was going to the market and searching for fruit seeds he could afford.

"Alright," Rowen said firmly, brushing the dirt from his hands. "This empty patch will be for fruits.

Satisfied, Rowen picked up the baskets full of mature tomatoes and potatoes; he carefully separated the rare ones into another basket.

By the time he was done, the floor of the shed looked more like a small marketplace than a farm storage. Four baskets brimmed with plump, shiny tomatoes and firm potatoes—their glow faint but noticeable, the same common+ grade as before. Next to them, two smaller baskets held the rarer harvest. The vegetables inside almost pulsed with vitality, their colors deeper and richer, their skins flawless.

"Let’s go," he said at last.

The portal shimmered open at his command, and Rowen stepped through.

Outside, morning sunlight greeted him. He hauled the baskets one by one from the portal space and set them carefully on the ground behind the shop. By the time he finished, sweat dotted his brow, but a sense of accomplishment filled his chest.

It was around 8:00 a.m. He still had work to do before opening the store, so Rowen turned toward the backyard.

The small plot of land behind the shop was where his grandfather had once grown herbs, though in recent years weeds had overtaken the soil. With determined movements, Rowen rolled up his sleeves and began clearing it. He pulled stubborn weeds from the ground, shook the dirt off their roots, and tossed them aside. The scent of fresh soil rose into the air, stirring a faint nostalgia. He could almost see his grandfather’s bent figure tending to the same spot, humming under his breath.

Once the ground was cleared, Rowen fetched the simple farming tools that had belonged to his grandfather. The wooden handles were worn smooth from years of use, but they still held strong. He dug shallow rows, then carefully planted the tomato and potato seeds he had saved from the harvest.

As he worked, he activated his newly acquired Farmer Skill. A faint green glow spread across his hands and seeped into the soil. Unlike the flashy fireballs or sword auras of other awakened paths, a farmer’s skill was quiet. It didn’t destroy or defend—it nurtured. But Rowen felt its worth immediately as the soil seemed to drink in the energy, becoming richer and looser. The seeds responded too, giving off a tiny flicker of life force that reassured him they were settling well.

Farmers didn’t have the combat firepower of knights or mages, but their ability to hasten crop growth and increase yields could support an entire community.

By the time he finished, it was already 9:00 a.m. He was later than usual. Normally, the shop would have been open by now, but the satisfaction of reclaiming the backyard outweighed the lost minutes.

Rowen dusted off his hands and returned inside. He carried the baskets of vegetables into the shop and arranged them neatly on the wooden shelves. The vibrant colors of the produce immediately brightened the small space, transforming the modest shop into something far more inviting.

Next, he prepared a small signboard for the new batch. With a piece of chalk, he carefully wrote:

Rare Tomatoes & Potatoes – 2 Low-Grade Mana Stones for 3 pieces. Common+ : Tomatoes & Potatoes – 1 Low-Grade Mana Stone for 3 pieces.

He placed the sign prominently beside the rare baskets. The price increase was bold, but given the quality, he was confident they would still sell.

Just as he was about to flip the wooden plank on the door to "Open," Rowen glanced outside through the front window. His breath caught.

A line of people stretched out in front of the shop. Dozens of them.

Students in their academy uniforms were clustered together, chatting excitedly. Some carried small pouches of mana stones at their waists, clearly ready to buy. Among them were a handful of elderly townsfolk, some holding the hands of younger children who craned their necks to peek toward the shop.

Rowen blinked, stunned. He had expected a few curious customers after word of his crops had spread, but this... this was something else entirely.

His hand froze on the door handle, and for a moment, he simply stared at the unexpected crowd.

"...What in the world?" He muttered under his breath.

Rowen paused behind the door, hand still on the latch. The sound outside was louder than he expected.

"Why isn’t this damn shop open yet?" One male student grumbled.

"Patience. It’s still early," another voice replied.

"Easy for you to say," the first snapped back. "If we’re late again, everything will be gone."

The chatter rose and fell like waves. Some muttered complaints under their breath, while others stood quietly, trying not to lose their place in line.

Rowen’s eyes drifted to the group of students near the front. He recognized a few faces from yesterday—the same ones who had left empty-handed when the baskets had run dry. Their eyes were ringed with dark circles, proof they hadn’t slept much, but their posture was alert and tense, as if ready to sprint forward the moment the door cracked open. The eagerness on their faces was plain; it made Rowen’s chest tighten with a mix of pride and unease.

He hadn’t expected this.

Rowen drew a slow breath, steadying himself, and pulled the door open.

The crowd surged forward a step, chatter breaking into excitement as dozens of eyes fixed on the baskets stacked inside. Students, elderly folk, and townspeople alike craned their necks, trying to get the first look at the rare vegetables displayed neatly on the shelves.

"Finally!" someone exclaimed.

"Look, those must be the new ones—rare quality!" another pointed.

Rowen forced a polite smile as he stepped back to give them space. The morning sun spilled into the shop, lighting up the faint glow of the tomatoes and potatoes. Their shine seemed to draw people in like moths to a flame.

But as he watched the line push closer, Rowen started to think. Yesterday’s harvest had been enough to make a splash, but today the crowd had doubled, maybe even tripled. His stock, no matter how neatly organized, suddenly looked small compared to the demand pressing at his doorway.