Lucas walked along the rows of tomato plants, his hand already reaching out to pluck the first fruit.

Footsteps followed from behind.

Silvara.

Lucas stopped abruptly. Without looking back, he turned — and suddenly broke into a quick run toward the horse-drawn carriage. Silvara froze for a moment, then hurried after him.

Lucas opened the back of the carriage and took out a small basket that had been neatly prepared.

He immediately returned to the field and began filling it first, carefully selecting the ripest, most flawless tomatoes.

Silvara frowned.

"Why the small one first?"

Lucas kept working, his voice low.

"Come on. You know Silas from the Merchants' Guild looks sly, right?"

Silvara nodded slightly.

"And?"

"If he shows up too soon," Lucas continued, "Healer Mae won't get anything. The contract clause says *all harvested produce*."

Silvara understood at once.

"Ah."

She gave a short nod.

Lucas finished filling the small basket, then quickly glanced around. Once he was sure no one was watching, he tucked the basket into a corner of the carriage, took off his coat, and covered the small basket with it.

"Done," he muttered.

They returned to the field.

Lucas began harvesting the tomatoes one by one, his movements slow and careful—twisting slightly before detaching them from the stem.

On the other side, Silvara picked with much rougher motions. Crack.

Lucas immediately turned.

"Hey. Easy."

Silvara clicked her tongue.

"It's just tomatoes."

"And that's exactly why you shouldn't treat them like rocks," Lucas replied coolly.

Silvara shot him a sharp look, clearly annoyed, but said nothing. She adjusted her technique and continued harvesting— still stiff, but more controlled.

In another row, Lina and Mae were harvesting side by side.

They moved slowly, almost in rhythm.

Lina glanced toward Lucas and whispered,

"Young Master… he looks different now."

Mae smiled faintly while continuing to pick.

"Love truly is magical."

Lina blinked, slightly startled.

"Huh?"

Mae added softly,

"Let's hope Lady Silvara has smooth success… in taming the Young Master."

Lina smiled shyly, her cheeks warming.

On the other side of the field, Lucas heard none of it.

He was focused solely on the tomatoes in his hands, unaware that two gentle women were gossiping nearby, and still blind to his quiet goodwill.

---

The harvest continued at a relaxed pace.

The sound of rustling leaves filled the air, occasionally punctuated by tomatoes dropping into baskets. The sun had not risen too high yet — warm enough, but not harsh.

On the other side of the field—

"Geralt!"

Elin's voice cut through the atmosphere.

Geralt stopped on reflex.

"You're supposed to pick them with your hands, not yank them out like weeds!" Elin snapped, pointing at a tomato stem that had been torn off roughly. "Twist it a little! If it gets damaged, the price drops!"

Geralt grimaced.

"Y–yes, yes… sorry."

Elin snorted, then took over one of the plants.

"Here, look. Slow. Twist. Release. Hard, is it?"

Geralt nodded quickly, his back slightly hunched.

"No, no. My mistake."

Lucas, watching from a distance, glanced in their direction.

…She's really fierce, he thought flatly.

Even though she used to cry so hard her tears ended up on Geralt's ass, he added dryly in his head.

Elin looked completely dominant— her tone firm, her movements sharp, scolding her husband without hesitation in front of others.

Lucas lowered his gaze again, picking tomatoes— then his thoughts jumped to a detail that was completely irrelevant.

Bruise marks.

And bite marks.

Geralt's ass.

He paused for a moment.

"…."

Lucas let out a small breath through his nose, barely audible.

She's so fierce I almost forgot she's got that freak-ish side.

He refocused on the tomatoes in his hands, as if he had never thought about anything strange at all — though the corner of his mouth twitched slightly, caught between amusement and disbelief.

---

Silvara, standing not far from Lucas, noticed the direction of his gaze.

She stepped closer, her voice low but sharp.

"Why are you staring at someone's wife?"

Lucas stopped picking.

Silvara narrowed her eyes.

"Throw away your funny ideas!"

Lucas clicked his tongue immediately.

"Tch. What are you even thinking?"

He turned slightly, his face flat.

"I'm just surprised. I didn't expect Geralt's wife to be that fierce."

Silvara stared at him for a few seconds, trying to read his expression.

"…Hmph."

She finally turned her face away.

"Don't be weird."

Lucas went back to picking tomatoes without looking at her.

"I'm not interested in causing trouble either."

Still, a brief thought slipped through his mind.

Fierce in the field… a different story at home.

That old man's ass.

He shook his head lightly, shivered a little, brushed the thought away, and returned to gently twisting the tomato from its stem.

Anya stood straight at the edge of the field, gripping the wooden branch in her hand. Her chest thumped lightly, but she forced herself to steady it.

Iron Knight on duty, Anya thought.

Stand. Focus. Observeee.

She fixed her gaze on the village road, maintaining her posture, holding herself firm, trying to look worthy of the role she had been given.

---

Before they realized it, basket after basket had been filled.

Lucas stretched his body, rolling his shoulders back. Suddenly—

The sound of approaching horse hooves reached his ears.

Lucas let out a breath.

"Wow… they're here already."

Silvara spoke up casually,

"There have been a few people watching us for a while."

Lucas was slightly startled.

"Huh? Since when?"

He paused, then a thought struck him.

"…Back when I hid the small basket?"

Silvara shook her head.

"No need to worry. They hadn't arrived yet at that point."

Lucas let out a quiet breath of relief.

Then—

Silas stepped down from the horse-drawn carriage.

This time, the wagon looked noticeably luxurious. Several well-dressed individuals followed him out, their attire neat and refined.

Among them was a woman dressed in a maid's outfit, standing quietly at the side.

Silas approached the field and greeted Lucas.

"Young Master," he said with a courteous smile. "Wow— how humble of you, for a noble to take part in the harvest personally."

As he spoke, the maid standing nearby shifted her gaze toward Liona.

Liona noticed it a moment later.

"…Eh?"

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