Aldric stood and pulled his sword from the ground in a single clean motion. The small hole where the black stone had been planted was now tightly sealed, packed down with the tip of his boot as if no one had ever touched it.

"Now we wait," he murmured. "Tomorrow. At noon. And all I'll need to do is take the final step… to end that foolish young master's life."

He glanced briefly toward the village.

Dark.

Silent.

No witnesses.

A thin smile formed on Aldric's lips.

Then he turned and walked away, leaving behind a tomato field that looked far too normal for something that had just been cursed.

---

In the quiet little clinic, Mae was still awake, alone.

The oil lamp was nearly burnt out as she tidied the table, lining up empty bottles and worn notebooks. But her thoughts were not on the clutter—only on the poison she had examined earlier.

That poison was not aggressive.

It was patient.

It waited.

Mae pulled an old book from the shelf. Its title had long faded: Iron Matron and the Demon Plague. She opened it briefly, read one page, then closed it again.

She knew that story well.

A poison that requires a medium.

A symbol.

A vessel.

The name Lina surfaced—not her face, only the image of poison stains on cloth.

Then Anya—a memory of a child who was almost well.

Tomorrow… she should be able to laugh again, Mae thought. She exhaled softly.

"She'll definitely ask me to read this story to her again," she murmured while staring at the book's cover.

Her gaze shifted to the half-empty herbal rack.

Tomatoes were expensive.

Medicinal leaves were scarce.

Roots were running out.

She wanted to give medicine without asking for money.

But bottles were not made from good intentions.

And herbs did not grow from prayers.

Mae sat longer than she realized.

She did not want to go to war.

She chose the village—partly out of laziness, partly out of a desire for a quiet life.

But villages could still die.

"Broke healer," she muttered.

The oil lamp flickered.

And Mae put the book away with an uneasy feeling in her chest.

----

Lucas dropped onto his bed with a heavy breath.

His head was still full of PP, items, and the system's voice.

But his eyes had had enough.

"PP can still be exchanged…," he murmured, half asleep.

"Loticentra's done… the rest can wait."

He pulled the blanket higher.

His body felt like it had been dragged through a foreign world for far too long.

That night, he didn't open the panel again.

He slept—unaware that the soil he had worked earlier that day… was no longer neutral.

----

Lucas woke to sunlight slipping through the thin curtains.

The first thing he felt wasn't alertness—

it was lightness.

His body felt refreshed. Too refreshed.

No soreness. No lingering dizziness. Even the tiredness that had clung to him ever since he entered this world was completely gone.

"…Weird," he muttered quietly as he stretched.

The system panel appeared, bright and mischievous as usual.

[Gooooood morning, King~ (≧▽≦)♪]

[Body status: perfect. Like a brand-new server~ ✨]

"Yeah, yeah."

Lucas shuffled into the bathroom, splashed cold water onto his face, and stared at the unfamiliar reflection longer than usual, as if making sure this wasn't a dream.

Back in his room, he sat on the edge of the bed.

Waiting for breakfast.

While waiting, he opened the panel.

Then his brow immediately creased.

"…Where's my EXP?"

"…What about my PP?"

The numbers were frozen.

No change.

Not even one.

He lifted his head sharply.

"System?"

[Oi, King~ (・ω・)]

[Did you feel like you worked hard just now? (¬‿¬)]

"…Not really."

[Then there you go~ (￣▽￣)]

[That means trivial activities don't count as progress for you anymore~]

Lucas let out a long breath.

"…Damn."

Before he could complain again, a soft knock sounded at the door.

"Young Master…?"

The door opened slightly. Liona stepped in with a breakfast tray. Her movements were careful. Her hands were still trembling—despite the smile she tried to wear.

She set the food on the table and gave a short bow.

"Breakfast… is ready."

"Thanks. Why are you still scared?" Lucas asked.

Liona turned quickly. "I'm… not used to it yet…"

Then she left, as if the room were too small for her.

Lucas watched her back until the door closed.

"…Yeah… this change really does feel like a jumpscare."

He turned back to the panel.

"By the way, why hasn't my Reputation Point gone down?"

The system made a small sound.

[Because you need a big action, King~

(๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧]

[Not everyday bed drama~ (￣︶￣)]

"Define 'big'."

[World-scale, King~ not bedroom-scale~

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)]

Lucas frowned.

The panel blinked slowly.

[And one more thing~ (｡•́︿•̀｡)]

[The more people realize you're not Lucian Voss…]

[…the lower the chance that your reputation points can go down.]

Lucas's heart skipped.

"…Why?"

The panel paused for a moment.

[Because you must progress as "Lucian Voss," King~ (ง •̀_•́)ง]

[Not as "Lucas."]

-----

Lucas walked through the field with Silvara.

There was no conversation.

No sound except the crunch of dry soil beneath their boots.

Silvara walked half a step behind him, her head slightly lowered. Every time Lucas glanced at her, she averted her eyes even more, as if deliberately avoiding his gaze.

And that only made things more awkward.

At last, they arrived.

Geralt was already there, standing with a hoe in his hands.

"Ah—Young Master!" the man greeted when he saw Lucas. "The hoe… you left it here yesterday."

Lucas paused.

"…Oh, just keep the hoe, old man."

He had forgotten to take it home yesterday.

Luckily, it hadn't gone missing.

A moment later, his thoughts jumped to the cave—to that strange bottle of wine that had nearly stripped him of his sanity.

It's still there…

Before he could dwell on it, Geralt's expression changed.

"Y-Young Master… that…."

Lucas followed the direction of his pointing finger.

And his heart sank.

The tomato sprouts that had grown so quickly yesterday… were now wilting.

Their leaves were curling.

Their color was dull.

Like plants that had lost the will to breathe.

"…What the hell is this?"

Without hesitation, Lucas summoned an item.

A clear glow formed in his palm.

Loticentra.

He stepped into the center of the field, gripping the lotus tightly.

Behind him, Silvara stood frozen.

Yesterday he was only holding a hoe… now he can summon strange things like this, she thought.

I really need to talk to him more…

The system panel lit up.

[You've got this, King~ (≧▽≦)]

[Just channel your mana~ it's easy~]

Lucas took a breath and tried.

Cold crawled up his arm.

Mana flowed out.

His face turned pale.

[W-w-wait—step back, King~! (⊙_⊙)]

[Once it activates, it'll spray everywhere~!]

Lucas hurriedly retreated.

And—

drip…

drip…

Water leaked out.

Thin. Weak.

The panel flickered.

[Your mana capacity… is kinda low, King~ hahahaha~ (￣▽￣)]

Lucas clicked his tongue.

Without thinking, he grabbed Silvara's hand.

"Put your mana into this. I'll explain later. The tomatoes first."

Silvara startled, but obeyed.

She pressed her hand against the lotus.

Mana flowed in.

Several seconds passed.

Her expression didn't change.

"Do you feel tired?"

"…I don't," she murmured. "And… I think it's full."

Lucas pulled her back immediately.

"Enough. Step away."

And—

The petals of Loticentra opened again.

To Lucas, Loticentra looked less like a mystical artifact…

and more like one of those automatic sprinklers at a golf course.

A soft hum followed—steady, mechanical in a way that shouldn't exist in a fantasy world.

Then the water spread properly this time.

Not in splashes.

In a perfectly even arc.

A mist-like sheet swept across the field as Loticentra rotated, coating the soil with glowing droplets that vanished the moment they touched the ground.

Lucas didn't notice.

But beneath the earth, something did.

The black veins that had crept through the soil recoiled.

The pulse buried under the roots shuddered violently.

And then—silenced.

Whatever had been planted there…

was being erased.

Silvara stared, wide-eyed.

To her, Loticentra didn't look like a flower at all.

It looked like a piece of incomprehensible machinery.

Ancient.

Elegant.

Impossible.

So this is his world… she thought.

Geralt, meanwhile, dropped his jaw in awe.

"Y-Young Master… this must be alchemy, right?" he said, stepping closer. "The way it moves… You must've fused alchemy with mechanical arts… no, with lost engineering!"

Lucas let out a small laugh.

"Of course," he said lightly. "Do you think I'd use something boring?"

Geralt nodded furiously.

As the last droplets fell, the tomato sprouts before them straightened.

Color returned.

Leaves lifted.

Life snapped back into place like nothing had ever been wrong.

"By the gods…" Geralt whispered.

He took another step forward to get a closer look—

And slipped.

His foot struck wet soil.

His body tipped—

"Whoa—!"

He tumbled forward—

Right in front of Lucas.

And at the exact same moment—

A small figure came charging across the field.

Fast.

Too fast.

A little girl burst into the scene, dirt flying behind her as she ran full-speed.

Her face was furious.

Her eyes blazing.

She lifted a wooden stick with both hands—

And pointed it straight at Lucian Voss.

"HM— I—!"

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