CHAPTER 49: CHAPTER 49

Clayton, who had suddenly become the center of attention, felt a tingling sensation crawl across his scalp. Had he unknowingly done something wrong?

From afar, Hope couldn’t hold back a sneer. "Heh... Let’s see how you deal with this, you lowborn farmer."

Isadora and Balda, seated not far from him, immediately picked up on what was happening. Amused smiles played on their lips as they glanced toward Clayton, clearly expecting a show.

As Clayton sat frozen under the weight of so many eyes, a young man beside him leaned over and whispered, "The host seems annoyed with you. For some reason, he asked you to give a lecture."

Clayton turned his head. The young man appeared sincere and kind. His robe was neat and elegant—clearly marking him as someone from a higher social standing.

"Thank you," Clayton replied briefly before glancing at the host. He couldn’t understand why he had been singled out. Plenty of others had seemed more distracted than him.

His eyes scanned the room... and then he spotted several familiar faces grinning with satisfaction. In that instant, Clayton understood who was behind this setup.

Before he could dwell on it further, the host’s voice rang out again, urging him to respond.

Around him, whispers started spreading—some attendees genuinely wanted the lecture to continue, while others were simply eager to see Clayton make a fool of himself.

Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Clayton stood and walked toward the podium.

The move caught many off guard. Had it been them, they would have refused or made an excuse. But not Clayton. He strode forward calmly and confidently.

The crowd grew even more intrigued. To them, Clayton—a mere farmer—was about to make a spectacle of himself, unaware of the shame he should have been feeling.

When he reached the podium, the host still wore a displeased expression and threw a jab his way.

"You’re just a tenant farmer. Your life is tough—so show some respect for this lecture. Don’t waste magic crystals and disrupt the session. If you’re not here to learn, leave."

But Clayton didn’t react with anger. He simply nodded, as if he understood. To some, that composure looked like arrogance.

The host began to grow irritated. At first, he had only wanted to embarrass Clayton a little—after all, he had been paid. But seeing Clayton so unfazed, he decided to escalate things.

"Hmph. Very well. Since you’re here, share your insights on farming. The floor is yours."

Clayton took the magical amplification device and stood tall, calm and composed.

"First, let me thank the Magic Academy and the City Government for organizing such a wonderful event for grassroots farmers like us. We’ll remember this kindness."

He paused before continuing, "I also want to thank the host, who so attentively noticed I seemed distracted. No wonder he was chosen to lead this session. His dedication is truly admirable."

The host’s face flushed with embarrassment.

Clayton went on, "Actually, I wasn’t bored or ignoring the lecture. I was simply deep in thought—imagining how I could apply the brilliant insights we’ve heard today."

Those who had been expecting a joke or blunder looked disappointed. Instead of a clown show, they were getting a poised and articulate speaker.

Even the host, who had begun to soften, now looked uneasy. He feared the session might run long—and worse, that he’d be blamed for it.

Clayton noticed and smiled subtly.

"Alright then. Since everyone’s so enthusiastic, I won’t waste your time. I’ll keep it brief."

Heads perked up immediately. The crowd refocused—including Hope, Balda, and Isadora—though for different reasons. They still hoped Clayton would mess up.

"Well then... Not long ago, our region faced a severe drought. I was nearly at my wit’s end. But eventually, I found a way to overcome it..."

Clayton began his explanation. His voice was steady, without a trace of nervousness.

The audience’s expressions shifted—from curious... to serious... to astonished.

Several eyes lit up. Some even began taking notes.

Hope, who had been smirking just moments earlier, now looked tense. He hadn’t expected Clayton’s lecture to be substantial

—much less useful.

He even felt the urge to jot something down—but pride held him back. All he could do was scowl at Clayton, growing more bitter by the second.

Balda and Isadora exchanged awkward glances, clearly unsettled by this unexpected turn.

Clayton, unaware of the thoughts swirling around him, finished his lecture with calm professionalism.

A wave of applause echoed through the grand hall.

Some seemed dissatisfied—not because of the content, but because it had ended too soon.

Even so, no one dared to complain. Their status didn’t allow it.

The host, who had mocked Clayton earlier, now shifted his tone entirely.

"Let’s give another round of applause to our friend here! What dedication and brilliance! You all could learn something from him!"

He continued to lavish praise on Clayton before finally letting him return to his seat.

Clayton sat back down, now the subject of respectful glances from many participants.

"You were amazing! Honestly, your presentation was better than what the organizers planned," said the young man beside him.

Clayton offered a modest smile. "Ah, not really. I just paid attention and read a lot. Most of it came from notes my father left behind."

The young man nodded quietly, and the lessons resumed.

However, compared to Clayton’s engaging lecture, the next segment felt dull to many. Still, they stayed silent and sat through it out of respect.

...

After the session ended, some participants left immediately, but many lingered behind.

Soon, small groups began to form in the corners of the hall. People gathered in circles—each group consisting of individuals from different backgrounds, all with one goal: to trade or exchange goods.

Curious, Clayton joined one of the groups. There, he spotted the same honest young man from earlier.

Clayton gave a polite nod, and the young man returned it with a friendly smile.

A participant stepped forward to lead the group.

"Alright, now that we’re all here, I’ll explain how this works. It’s simple: we’ll each take turns presenting an item—whether for trade or sale. We’ll go clockwise from my right."

One by one, members stepped forward to show their items. Some goods sparked interest and sparked quick discussions. The atmosphere was part auction, part community gathering—relaxed and respectful.

The rule was simple: Take what you want, offer what you need.

Gradually, people began to open up and chat. Eventually, it was the honest young man’s turn.

"Hello, everyone," he said clearly. "My name is Arowmfa. My family specializes in incense. Today, I’ve brought several types—calming, scented, monster-attracting, and a few others."

Clayton’s interest was piqued. He had seen the usefulness of such items before.

Arowmfa explained each type and its ingredients in detail. His explanations were thorough and convincing.

However, as time went on, Clayton’s interest began to wane. Though intriguing, the incense had drawbacks—long burn times, side effects, and short-lived effects.

Compared to his own tea or Bravus’s perfumes, Arowmfa’s incense felt inefficient. Not bad—but clearly lacking.

In the end, Clayton decided not to offer a trade.

Soon, it was his turn.

He stepped forward a bit hesitantly.

"Why so nervous, mister?" one participant chuckled. "Come on, don’t be shy. Just show us what you’ve got."

Clayton gave an awkward smile and stepped up.

But before he could speak, a sharp voice rang out from the edge of the room.

"Of course he’s nervous!" Hope shouted mockingly. "He’s got nothing to offer! A lowborn like him has no valuable goods!"

The room fell silent. Whispers began spreading. Some stifled laughter, while others shifted uncomfortably.