Beside Silvara, someone stood with a suspicious air.

Healer Mae.

For a while now, her head had been making small movements left and right, her eyes constantly darting around as if she were avoiding something.

Lucas, who had just been stopped by Silvara, automatically shifted his gaze in that direction while slowly walking closer.

At the same time—

Mae muttered inwardly.

…This is bad if Sir Aldric suddenly shows up.

She swallowed lightly. Her eyes swept the surrounding area again, making sure there was no tall figure with a suffocating presence nearby.

Then—

Her gaze was unconsciously pulled toward one direction.

The tomato field.

Rows of red fruit were neatly arranged, bright in color, plump, and looking… far too perfect for a small village.

Mae came to a complete stop.

…Didn't this field only appear a few days ago?

Impossible— why do the tomatoes look almost ready to harvest?

Her eyes immediately lit up.

"Oh my…"

Her body leaned forward slightly without realizing it, as if she needed to confirm with her own eyes that what she was seeing was real.

Those tomatoes looked like treasure.

Meanwhile, Lucas was already close enough.

A little behind Silvara and Mae, under the tree that shaded the study area, Anya was still sitting with a small twig in her hand.

She lifted her head and looked at Lucas, whose condition looked increasingly pitiful.

Sweat. Labored breathing. A crooked posture.

Anya furrowed her small brows.

Then murmured softly, as if criticising an ugly painting—

O evil face…

Thou face is poor face now…

Her expression was serious.

There was no intent to insult.

Pure evaluation.

Then her focus returned to Mae.

The healer finally turned to Lucas once he was close enough.

She adjusted her expression in seconds.

The wary attitude and greedy look she had been giving the tomatoes vanished instantly.

All that remained was a polite healer with a professional air.

"Young Master," she said calmly, giving a slight bow.

"Please forgive the interruption."

She took out a sheet of paper from her other bag.

"This is the recipe for a body-strengthening potion. Please check the ingredients. If you approve, I will brew it at once."

Lucas blinked.

"…Approve?" He frowned. "Is this some kind of contract? Why don't you just make it first?"

Mae shook her head gently.

"It's not like that, Young Master," she said softly.

"This potion is quite harsh on the body," she stated firmly.

"I cannot take the risk if you do not know what I will be putting into the potion."

Her tone was gentle.

Too gentle.

Lucas narrowed his eyes slightly.

Inside, he thought—

This healer…

If she weren't busy playing the village's white knight,

…she'd actually look very polite.

Lucas took the paper from Mae's hand.

He stared at its contents.

Blank.

Absolutely blank.

The names of ingredients, measurements, and unfamiliar terms—everything looked like ancient spells to him.

Roots, extracts, powders, solutions…

He didn't understand a single one of them.

A few seconds later, expressionless, Lucas handed the paper back.

"…Just make it," he said flatly. "I don't understand any of this."

Mae accepted the paper without protest.

Beside them, Silvara watched in silence.

Her gaze lingered briefly on Lucas's exhausted, weakened body.

Then a thought crossed her mind—

Any potion would be meaningless.

No matter how firm his spirit is…

his body remains fragile.

Mae shifted slightly.

Her eyes drifted back to the tomato field.

As if she had just remembered something, she spoke carefully.

"Yo-Young Master…" Her voice trembled slightly.

"May I ask something?" she said softly.

Lucas turned toward her.

"This field… why is it so fertile? How could these tomatoes grow so abundantly in just a few days?"

She looked uneasy.

Her fingers curled into a small fist.

"…to be honest, it's beyond what I expected."

Lucas froze.

"…Huh?"

Fertile?

Why?

He looked at the tomatoes.

Then at Mae.

Then back at the tomatoes again.

His mind went blank.

Before he could form a single explanation—

Someone was already standing beside him.

Out of nowhere.

Geralt.

The old man had suddenly appeared at Lucas's side.

And in an instant—

He transformed.

Back straight.

Chest thrust out.

Face full of solemn dignity.

Like a loyal retainer from a high-grade royal drama.

"Ah! Of course!" Geralt exclaimed loudly.

"All of this is thanks to the Young Master's genius!"

Lucas choked.

"…W-What?"

Geralt immediately switched into full brown-noser mode.

"From soil treatment to planting methods—everything was personally arranged by him!"

Mae's eyes widened slightly.

"Oh…?"

Geralt gave a firm nod.

"Alchemy, ancient agricultural knowledge, the flow of natural energy—Young Master studies all of it!"

Lucas's soul nearly left his body.

This old man is going to kill me.

Geralt continued with great enthusiasm.

"It's only natural that a miracle like this would be born!"

Lucas's face burned.

Not just from embarrassment…

But from the feeling that a new sin had just been recorded in hell.

In a voice barely audible—

Lucas muttered.

"…Old man… why are you like this…"

Suddenly, a small voice cut into the moment.

"Yeah… that's right."

Anya stood up from beneath the tree, puffing out her small chest and lifting her chin with fake magnificence.

"And I, as an Iron Knight, bravely testify to all of that… heheheh…."

Lucas turned his head.

Silvara closed her eyes for a moment.

Geralt nodded rapidly.

Mae blinked.

As someone who often read Iron Mathron stories to Anya, Mae was already used to hearing the girl claim to be an Iron Knight.

But—

Why is she praising the Young Master too now…?

Mae thought.

Anya continued, growing more serious.

"The greatness and kindness of the Young Master will surely be praised by nature itself."

She lowered her voice, making it sound deep and heavy.

"And all of this… must be a blessing from nature."

Mae couldn't hold back a small smile.

She let out a quiet chuckle.

That line…

She knew it well.

It was a direct quote from the Iron Mathron storybook.

Silvara let out a long breath.

"…Anya," she said softly.

"Why are you acting like that?"

Anya answered immediately, now speaking with a knight's majestic tone.

"Father said…"

She stared straight at Lucas.

"Thou, young'un, art the source of our daily coin."

Geralt nodded firmly.

"Yes, yes… that's right!"

Then—

Only then did he realize.

…Wait.

Anya crossed her arms with a scoff. "And for that reason, my father and I must become the best lads for him—praising and bowing for the sake of his glory." She declared loudly.

Geralt let out a small gasp.

"Huh?"

At the same time—

Lucas.

Mae.

And Silvara.

"…What?"

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