The Farmer and the Flowerpot

After following him with a miserable face for quite a while, the man finally stopped in front of a residential area surrounded by barbed wire.

Behind it was a cliff, and on either side stood piles of broken building materials leaning dangerously.

It looked like the only way in was straight through the front.

It was a strangely well-protected spot.

The man easily leapt over the barbed wire.

It was taller than a person, and just looking at it made Garam’s stomach twist.

‘He wants me to jump over that?’

No way. Absolutely not.

Garam shook his head.

“I can’t get through here. Isn’t there a gate or something?”

“There isn’t. Can’t you jump?”

“Of course I can’t!”

“I see.”

The man casually jumped back over and approached Garam.

Then, before Garam could react, he grabbed him by the waist and leapt back over the barbed wire.

“Huh?!”

Being carried over a barbed fence by another man was not an experience Garam ever wanted to repeat.

And worse, the man didn’t seem to remember to put him down.

Still holding him, he walked straight into the house.

The inside looked very different from the outside.

There were no walls separating rooms — everything was open.

A bed, various exercise machines, and a small kitchen all shared one wide space.

It felt more like a storage room than a home.

The man dropped Garam roughly onto the floor and sat down on the sofa nearby.

“Ahk!”

The impact of hitting the cement floor made Garam roll around in pain.

Only after a long moment did the throbbing subside.

‘Who just throws a person on the ground like that? Is he insane?’

He wanted to protest immediately — but when he looked up at the man, the words froze in his throat.

That was not the kind of face one argued with.

He quietly fixed his posture, sitting on his knees, hands on his lap.

Finally, the man spoke again.

“Hoe.”

“…Huh?”

“Why do you have it?”

If you’re asking why… it’s because I’m a farmer!

But would he even believe that?

Most awakened people had combat-based powers.

There were a few with production types, like blacksmiths or alchemists — but a farmer?

That was a first, even for Garam himself.

He felt tears sting his eyes out of sheer frustration.

“Answer me.”

Of course, the man didn’t seem to care about Garam’s emotional turmoil.

“Well, you see… I’m actually a farmer.”

Garam wanted to pour out his whole tragic story, but the man didn’t seem interested.

Instead, he reached into his coat and pulled out — a flowerpot.

He held it like it was something precious.

“Save it.”

When Garam looked closer, the plant inside didn’t look good at all.

The soil was soaked, almost muddy, and the tiny leaves drooped lifelessly.

It looked practically dead.

“This? How?”

“That’s for you to figure out.”

“Even a farmer can’t revive a dead plant.”

“Try anyway. You’re a farmer, so you’re better than an ordinary person.”

A farmer isn’t a god!

How was he supposed to bring a dying plant back to life?

Garam was about to protest — until the man’s hand moved toward his sword.

“Will you save it… or die?”

The threat was crystal clear.

There was only one answer.

“I-I’ll save it!”

The man handed over the flowerpot.

“If you try anything funny, you’ll die.”

He kept threatening to kill him so casually that Garam’s heart felt like it would stop.

“I won’t! I won’t!”

Garam carefully examined the pot.

On closer inspection, there was still a faint trace of green energy in the stem.

Maybe it wasn’t completely dead.

“Well, at least there aren’t any bugs.”

“Caught one.”

“Oh… right, you did.”

The image of the man — who had crushed an orc with his bare hands — now delicately plucking a bug with tweezers was absurd enough to make Garam want to laugh.

But he bit the inside of his cheek instead.

Laughing now could be lethal.

“But… why did you give it so much water?”

“Plants live on water.”

“Even plants die if you give them too much.”

“Why?”

The man asked that with total seriousness.

“Because when they can’t absorb it all, the roots rot.”

Garam shared the bits of plant knowledge he knew.

“Each plant has its own watering schedule.

You don’t have to water every day — only when the soil dries out.”

This one was clearly overwatered.

Water was dripping from the hole in the bottom of the pot.

Wait — he’d been carrying this thing around like that?

Garam looked at the man again, half in disbelief.

Mother… there really are a lot of crazy people in this world.

He’d never even met his mother, but when things got desperate, everyone called for theirs.

“No wonder it’s dying.”

He muttered without thinking — then immediately shut up when the man reached for his sword again.

“Save it.”

“Y-yes, sir! I’ll save it!”

Garam gently held the flowerpot and called out his status window.

It was time to check the skills he’d ignored earlier, thinking they’d be useless in combat.

⌜
Give Water Lv.1 — A farmer must be able to water plants. When using a watering can, generates a small amount of water.

Plant Seed Lv.1 — Allows seeds to be planted well.

Touch of the Sun Lv.1 — Slightly accelerates growth of a plant touched by the user. Can slightly heal dying plants.
⌟

At least the system had a conscience — three skills was more than most got.

Usually, beginners started with only one.

Not bad, really.

The problem was just one thing.

‘None of them are actually useful except the watering one!’

And those vague descriptions — “a small amount,” “slightly,” “well”…

What did any of that even mean?

He had no way to know without testing.

So he didn’t know if any of this would help the dying plant at all.

‘But I have no choice but to try!’

With trembling hands, Garam placed his palm on the plant.

The man’s stare was sharp — like if he so much as bent one leaf wrong, he’d cut off Garam’s arms in return.

“T-Touch of the Sun!”

Ugh, the name was so embarrassing!

Garam blushed as he looked down at the plant.

Nothing seemed to change.

‘Am I really going to die over a flowerpot?’

Tears welled up.

He turned his head to check the man’s reaction — but surprisingly, the man didn’t look angry.

“Do it again.”

The man’s voice was calm but serious.

Did he see something Garam didn’t?

Garam shouted again, desperate.

“Touch of the Sun!”

“Again.”

“Touch of the Sun!”

He didn’t even know how many times he’d said it.

His body grew weak, and his vision blurred.

He was out of mana.

A level-one awakened didn’t have enough energy to keep using skills like this.

“I-I can’t anymore.”

The man silently took out a small blue bottle — a mana potion.

A full restore, no less.

Who in their right mind would waste something that expensive on a level-one newbie?

He didn’t understand this man at all.

Garam drank the potion and kept going.

Whenever he ran out, the man handed him another one.

By the time Garam’s stomach was sloshing with liquid mana, the plant finally began to change.

The wet soil started to dry.

New leaves sprouted.

The drooping stem straightened up.

“Phew…”

At least he wouldn’t die now.

Garam glanced up carefully.

“I think it’s alive again.”

“Not yet.”

“…I’m really tired.”

“Why?”

Because you’ve made me drink enough mana potion to drown in!

Garam wanted to scream but held it in.

“My body’s just… kind of weak.”

He spoke with teary eyes, degrading himself for survival’s sake.

“Why?”

How was he supposed to answer that?

The man just stared at him silently, then finally stood up.

He cradled the flowerpot carefully in his arm and walked over to the exercise equipment.

“Do you know how to use these?”

“No.”

“Running?”

“That I can do.”

He’d spent plenty of time running for his life from monsters.

If there was one thing he was good at, it was that.

“Then run.”

The man pointed at the treadmill.

“Huh?”

He didn’t repeat himself.

Garam hesitated, then stepped onto the treadmill.

No electricity, yet it worked when he pressed a button.

It must have been modified with magic stones.

‘That must have cost a fortune… Who is this guy?’

Garam started jogging at a slow pace.

But it was harder than he thought.

He hadn’t eaten properly, and he’d already run for his life earlier.

His stamina was running on fumes.

After about ten minutes, he glanced at the man nervously.

‘Can I stop now?’

Before he could say anything, the man spoke.

“Run faster.”

Run faster?

He’d die at this rate!

Garam looked at him pitifully.

“I can’t.”

“Why?”