The horse-drawn carriage slowed to a stop at the edge of the field.

Lucas stepped down first, followed by Silvara. Damp red soil stretched out before them, still dark from the morning moisture.

Liona jumped down after them, adjusted her gloves, then turned toward Lucas.

"Then I'll take my leave, Young Master," she said lightly. "I'll come pick you up again this afternoon."

Lucas nodded. "Alright."

Without waiting for any further response, Liona turned around and walked away with the carriage, leaving them behind at the field.

That was when Mae stepped forward as their eyes met.

"Good morning, Young Master."

Lucas turned fully this time.

Mae moved a little closer, lowering her voice. "May I have a moment of your time?"

Lucas gave a short nod. "Go ahead."

Silvara automatically stopped two steps behind him, giving them space.

Mae went straight to the point. "Young Master, Your request… has been completed."

"Huh?" Lucas turned reflexively. "Wasn't it supposed to take two days?"

"That was the initial estimate," Mae replied calmly. "But the tomato skin you provided turned out to be extremely adaptive. Its natural structure can directly form a stable shell without requiring prolonged mana processing."

Lucas raised an eyebrow. "…I see."

He nodded. "Did you bring it?"

Mae reached into her small bag and took out a tiny glass tube. Inside was a single pill-like object, translucent with a faint reddish hue, a liquid sealed within it that shimmered softly when it caught the morning light.

Mae handed it over with both hands.

"This is the final result."

Lucas accepted it, slowly rotating the tube between his fingers, then let a faint smile form.

"Good job."

Mae looked relieved—though her expression was not entirely relaxed.

Lucas noticed. "Is something wrong?"

Mae hesitated for a split second. Then she took out a neatly folded letter.

"Th… this," she said quietly. "The results of the poison examination from before, Young Master."

Lucas cleared his throat softly.

"Oh. That one."

He took the letter but did not open it right away. His gaze went unfocused for a moment.

Damn… I even forgot about this.

The morning breeze drifted gently across the tomato field.

A few steps away from them, Geralt and Anya pretended to be busy, clearly making a point not to interfere.

Lucas lowered the letter to his side.

"Alright," he said casually, his tone slightly cocky. "If there's no other business, you may go."

Mae blinked, then immediately bowed her head. "Yes, Young Master."

She stepped back, gave a brief bow, then turned around and left the field without adding anything else.

Lucas slipped the small glass tube into the pocket of his coat, then walked toward Geralt and Anya.

"Good morning, Young Master," Geralt greeted quickly.

Anya immediately straightened up, shoulders pulled back—mini knight mode fully engaged. Her gaze was straight ahead, her posture stiff but serious.

Lucas did not waste time. He raised one hand.

Loticentra appeared instantly.

"Silvara," he continued. "Water it. As usual."

Silvara took the Loticentra with an openly annoyed expression. But the moment she realized Anya and Geralt were watching, she restrained herself. Without protesting, she walked toward the center of the field.

Geralt bowed slightly. "Thank you, Young Master… for still being willing to employ me."

Lucas narrowed his eyes.

"…Hah." He snorted. "Of course you should be thankful."

Geralt gave an awkward smile.

At that moment, Lucas's attention was drawn to the area beneath a tree not far from them.

There stood a dark wooden board—darker than ordinary wood, shaped like a chalkboard. On the ground in front of it lay several white objects, pointed at the bottom, scattered about like pieces of chalk.

Lucas was about to ask—

But Anya had already stepped half a pace forward and gave a salute with a motion that was slightly overdone.

"Honored Young Master," she said. "Those are preparations for today's conquest of letters."

Lucas looked at her. "…Did you buy the board?"

Anya nodded firmly. "Father bought it. But the white objects—" she pointed at the pointed chalk, "—are my magic stones, which Father skillfully carved for ease of use."

Lucas glanced at Geralt.

Hmmm…

He's truly attentive to his daughter.

From a distance—

A man with a merchant guild pin fastened to his chest stood at the edge of the dirt road, a spyglass raised to his eye.

"…What?"

His brow furrowed.

No replanting?

Then what is that thing?

Through the lens of the spyglass, he saw Silvara walk to the center of the field and place the Loticentra right in the middle.

Silvara then returned to the edge of the field.

And at that moment—

The Loticentra reacted.

Its petals slowly opened.

Then it began to rotate.

Water sprayed out in controlled arcs, spinning along with its movement—each stream precise, soaking the soil evenly without any waste.

The man's breath caught.

"…It waters by itself?"

The rotation continued, smooth and steady, irrigating the field in a perfect radius with the plant at its center.

The man lowered the spyglass slightly, his eyes widening.

"This makes no sense. Is Young Master Voss really a genius alchemist?"

---

The irrigation ended as Lucas dismissed the Loticentra from a distance.

"Geralt," he said flatly. "Clean the ditch surrounding the field. Make sure there are no traces of rats."

Geralt straightened at once. "Yes, Young Master."

Without asking any questions, he picked up his tools and moved toward the ditch.

Silvara glanced in Anya's direction.

Anya immediately jogged over to the tree. She lifted the dark board—and the back of it revealed a rough lump attached unevenly.

Anya took hold of the lump, then picked up the pointed white objects that resembled chalk.

She returned with quick steps, her face brimming with enthusiasm.

"Miss Silvara," she said confidently, "today's conquest of letters will be very easy!"

Silvara looked at her for a moment, then let out a soft sigh.

"Is that so?"

Yet the corner of her lips lifted slightly.

Lucas watched from a short distance.

A faint smile formed when he saw Silvara crouch down and begin teaching Anya how to read and write again.

He shifted his weight, then spoke quietly to himself.

"Alright," he said. "Then I should read mine too."

His hand slipped into his coat. He pulled out the folded paper Mae had given him earlier and looked down at it.

"So—"

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