Into the healing farming game

26th Day of Spring

As I left the village, a long road continued ahead.

A road leading east. A bumpy road that looked completely different from modern asphalt or cement.

It was a shabby road with stones thrown here and there, and the path tidied up just enough, but it was enough.

The mere existence of roads and paths was satisfying in itself.

Fairy Farm was a place that led to the Fairy Sky Garden. A farm where fairies planted and tended garden plants—Fairy Farm.

The expression “planting and cultivating” was actually a bit ambiguous. Due to the nature of fairies, by simply talking to and playing with plants, the plants grew green and healthy.

A farm naturally formed wherever the fairies stayed, and the plants grown in the farm were sent to the Sky Garden.

Sky Garden. A place where all kinds of strange phenomena danced. Small water droplets flew through the sky, and sizes changed at will, defying the physical laws.

In the game, it was described as a place where various small events constantly occurred. Because of that, I had been too busy pressing enter without reading the messages. If I had known this would happen, I would have read in detail about the phenomena. No matter how quickly one regrets, it’s too late.

I walked down the endless road. The destination was a city connected to Starwind Valley.

Reyvik. A land ruled by nobles, famous for its wealth due to active commerce. In the game, there had been frequent interaction with Starwind Valley. I remembered that all the products sold in the town went to that city.

The distance on foot was a little over a day’s journey. It was too much to reach in one day, so I had to camp.

Due to the regular exchanges, traces of road maintenance were visible here and there. However, because it had rained yesterday, the ground was muddy, and my feet became a little soggy—something I had to accept.

As I walked down the endless road at a fast pace, I found myself missing Earth. Once again, I realized how boring it was to just walk without any distractions. Whether listening to music on earphones or watching something on a smartphone, doing those things made time fly. Here, walking in silence felt like a dopamine detox, which left me achy and longing for some activity to pass the time. I swallowed my regret and kept walking.

The flower fields beside the stone road were quite beautiful. The sight of yellow, pink, and white flowers blooming brightly was certainly wonderful. It looked like a scene from a recommended travel destination in Europe.

After walking for about two hours, I passed a fork in the road and saw traces of people—specifically, a group of people, including a carriage. There were wheel marks and footprints everywhere. The direction they went matched mine, making it easy to guess that a merchant was probably heading to the city to sell or buy goods. I quickened my pace, thinking I could relieve my boredom by talking with people.

Around lunch, I spotted the group resting. As I expected, it was a small caravan. Two carriages and about eight people, mostly bearded men, were taking a break.

“Hello,” I greeted them without hesitation. Speaking felt strange. My body had grown accustomed to the language, but when I thought about it consciously, it felt unfamiliar again.

“Hmm?” one of them responded.

“What brings you here?” another asked.

None of them seemed cautious. The peace of the city and the surrounding area probably contributed to this. It also explained why I could travel alone so boldly.

“The road is quiet when you’re walking alone,” I said.

“A traveler? A merchant?”

“He must be a merchant. He doesn’t look dressed like a traveler.”

“Isn’t he a bit light equipped?”

There was a brief discussion among them about my identity.

“I’m a farmer. I’m heading to the city on business,” I explained.

“Do you farm in that valley?” one asked.

“Yes.”

“I see. Well, since we’re heading the same way, feel free to join us.”

I was easily allowed to join them, much to my surprise. It was a bit different from what I had expected, but the peaceful atmosphere convinced me that this was normal.

This medieval world, despite its promise of healing, wasn’t peaceful everywhere. In places like the Tomb of Usurpation or the Dragon Ruins, people often stood up and fought one another. There were places where the rule was to take what you need by force, whether food or treasure.

“Would you like some?” one of the men asked, offering me beef jerky.

“I’d be happy to try some,” I replied.

“Ha! This one is strong and flavorful. Go ahead.”

The jerky had a pungent smell. At first glance, it looked tough and unappetizing, but I bit into it out of politeness. The texture was chewy and required a lot of saliva to break down.

“Hehe, if it’s hard to eat, don’t feel obliged to continue. We all know jerky isn’t the best,” said another man.

“It’s not exactly for guests,” someone added. “But take it if you need.”

The jerky seemed like survival food, the kind you eat out of necessity rather than enjoyment. Nevertheless, the men’s faces were bright, as though this routine was part of their daily life.

“Would you like to try this?” I asked, pulling out a small muskmelon.

“What’s that? Fruit?” one asked.

“Did you grow it?” another inquired, smelling its sweet aroma.

In an instant, I had their attention. I felt proud. It was a strange, indescribable feeling—having the fruits of my labor recognized.

“Oh… wow. Isn’t this delicious?”

“Are you selling this?”

“Wow, there’s hardly any left.”

Eight men swarmed around, devouring the fruit in no time. They all looked disappointed when it was gone.

“I’m planning to sell it in the city. Do you think it’ll sell well?”

“No doubt!” one man exclaimed. “As a 15-year merchant, I guarantee it! If this doesn’t sell, the world’s taste buds are broken!”

“Well! Even the lord couldn’t resist this. Do you have more?”

The response was quite explosive. I didn’t know it would be like this, so I was a bit dumbfounded and just answered “no.”

The passion for fruit lasted well into the night. I lay down in a suitable spot and realized how amazing the fruit was. It was fun to watch the men gather around and brag about how much gold they could sell it for.

Among them, one said 50 gold, another as much as 90 gold. I laughed because it was absurd—it was just a piece of fruit, not some priceless treasure.

It seemed a little strange that I was sleeping alone in a tent while everyone else was sleeping in their sleeping bags. Since everyone was using the sky as their blanket, I didn’t bring up the idea of sharing my tent. With snoring as my lullaby, I ended my first night outdoors. Perhaps thanks to their consideration, I was the last one they woke up. I easily finished my night watch after waking up to someone gently shaking my body.

We settled down, had breakfast, and left for the city. We arrived in the city around lunchtime.

Castles and walls were buildings that symbolized the Middle Ages. A village spread out widely around, with rice fields and a working windmill. The smell of wheat and the sight of people moving around filled the air.

This was what the city of Reyvik looked like when you actually saw it. It wasn’t just a city depicted graphically, trapped in a small game. It was a real, breathing, vibrant city.

“Make sure to sell the fruit! You can become really rich,” one of the men said.

“Yes! If possible, it would be better if we went through our trading company—Haemuri Trading Company! Remember that!” another added.

I parted ways with the bearded men who had walked with me. It had been fun, and I had good memories.

As I entered the city, I felt a bit overwhelmed. Should I just leave right away? Or should I try to pioneer a route for selling agricultural products? Two hearts were fighting hard against each other. Selling the fruit could wait until after I visited the Fairy Farm, so it wasn’t that urgent. Just as I was about to make up my mind to leave, I felt someone poking my leg.

“Hmm!”

A girl cleared her throat slightly. She looked to be about twelve or thirteen. With her red hair neatly tied up and falling in place, anyone could tell she was a well-mannered child.

“Hi,” I said.

“Nice to meet you. If you have anything to eat, would you mind selling it to me?” she asked.

For a child, her speaking style was very awkward. Was this the way nobles spoke? The peculiarity was cute in its own way.

“It would be quicker to buy food at nearby stores,” I suggested.

“No! Every merchant here gives me free stuff because they think I’m cute. I want to buy things, not get them for free!” she declared.

“Aha…”

“I’m here to learn how to trade! So, try selling me food!” she insisted.

It was cute. I could see why nearby merchants found her so adorable that they gave her food for free. Her actions had a subtle charm that didn’t match her formal way of speaking. I didn’t feel reluctant, but that didn’t mean I was eager to sell, either.

I took out a muskmelon from my bag and roughly divided it into eight pieces. One gold coin per piece seemed fair.

“I’ll sell this. How do you feel about that?”

“Oh! It’s a melon. I remember it as a very sweet and soft fruit. It was a very expensive fruit…” she said.

“I’ll sell it for 1 gold. How does that sound?”

“One gold? Is it real?”

“Yes. Do you want to buy it?”

“Of course!” she said, her red hair bouncing as she nodded excitedly.

“Here, enjoy your meal.”

“Here’s 1 gold!” she handed me a coin.

As soon as the girl received the melon, she put it in her mouth and swallowed it. Her expression changed in real time.

Her eyes opened wide. Her mouth slightly parted, and for a moment, she froze.

I felt good seeing her look so happy.

“It’s so delicious…” she whispered.

“Delicious?”

“It’s delicious! If you have more, I’ll buy them all!” she exclaimed.

“I have three more pieces. Do you want to buy them?”

“Give them all to me!”

Her cheeks turned red with excitement. Her joy was unmistakable.

Was it really that good? In an era like the Middle Ages, where sweetness and dopamine were rare, it made sense that something sweet and delicious would bring such joy. The value of muskmelon, a fruit with incredibly sweet flesh, was perhaps higher than I had thought.

The girl ate the three pieces of melon in an instant. She was so ecstatic that she didn’t know what to do, her giddy, unsteady movements almost comical. Watching her made me think of the strawberries I had at home.

Kingsberries must be growing well in the field right now. I regretted not bringing them; they might have earned the same reaction.

“Do you want to try strawberries too?” I asked.

“Wow! You have strawberries? Sell them all to me! I’ll buy them all!” she replied eagerly.

I only had about five strawberries, so I sold them to the girl at the same price of 1 gold per piece.

When people reacted like that, it made me want to offer discounts that didn’t even exist. Once again, I realized that the value of crops wasn’t just in their price, but in people’s reactions.

“I ate too much…” she muttered.

“Delicious?”

“That’s right…”

The girl seemed dazed, as if she couldn’t shake off the lingering taste.

“No. This isn’t the time,” she suddenly said.

“Who are you? I am the rightful heir of the lord who rules this city of Reyvik! My name is Stacey!”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Minho. I’m a farmer in Starwind Valley.”

“A farmer! Minho, you must be a very talented farmer! Do you have any more crops? Or even the crops you grow in the future. I’ll buy them all!” she declared.

“You want to sign an exclusive contract with me?” I asked.

“Of course! You can’t go wrong with crops of this quality! I, Stacey, heir to this city, guarantee it!”

It sounded more like a child’s bold statement than a serious business proposition, but it was an interesting idea. As long as the price was right, it was a good offer. We’d have to discuss the details, but it wasn’t a bad idea.

“Thank you for your high opinion,” I said.

“I’m serious! With me—”

“Miss,” a man’s voice interrupted. “If you push forward too aggressively, you’ll put the other party in a difficult position. There may already be contracts in place, or other factors to consider.”

A man appeared, gently calming the situation. He looked like a deacon or something similar, likely an aide to the girl.

“Fred,” Stacey said.

“There’s a process for everything. If you truly appreciate the product, you can formally invite him to the castle later,” Fred advised.

“I should do that! Minho, I’ll officially invite you to the castle later!” Stacey said excitedly.

“Uh, okay…” I replied.

“Good! I’ll go back and prepare the invitation right away. Fred, let’s return to the castle!”

“Yes, I’ll follow your orders,” Fred answered.

Was this what it felt like when something passed by like a storm? Perhaps I had stumbled upon a big opportunity. Yet, I wasn’t sure if it was an opportunity, since it felt so surreal.