Chapter 41

“What if I say I want to buy this child—how much would you sell it for?”

​

The princess casually extended an offer, assuming the farmer before her would naturally oblige. But the farmer didn’t flinch.

This nonchalant response surprised the princess slightly.

​

Almost as if he had anticipated her words, his calm reply continued smoothly. Perhaps it was his boyish appearance that softened the sting of refusal.

​

“It’s not for sale.”

“One million Gold.”

“Sorry.”

“Ten million Gold, then?”

“Even with more Gold, my decision won’t change.”

“Hmph. What about one hundred million Gold?”

“Yes.”

​

The farmer’s immediate rejection brought a wry smile to the princess’s lips. Was this child really so precious?

If ten million Gold could alter one’s life, surely this man wasn’t ignorant of its value. Could it be that his recent farming success has given him newfound confidence?

​

A flicker of curiosity crossed the princess’s face. She wondered less about taking the screech owl and more about what might win this man over.

​

“I’ll grant you a noble title.”

“Perhaps it’d be better to acquire another screech owl instead.”

“Each individual, like each dog, is unique. Can this child truly have a duplicate?”

“We’ve formed a deep bond, much like how parents and children shouldn’t be separated.”

“Hmm. So no matter what I offer, you won’t part with the child?”

“Don’t separate parents from their children. We share a connection deeper than blood.”

​

Her interest waned. He wasn’t bluffing; he genuinely cherished the bird. Negotiating with authority and power may be amusing, but forcing something not for sale felt futile. With a glance at the adorable creature, the princess turned back to her chair.

​

Though momentarily distracted, it was time to focus on the main topic.

​

“So, I summoned you here with promises of sweet musk melons and strawberries.”

“Yes.”

“Do you have them?”

“I’ll show you the goods immediately.”

​

How peculiar—a mere farmer carrying a magic bag? Yet there it was.

Despite trying to hide her surprise, the princess stared intently at the fruits placed on the table. She instantly recognized them. The refreshing sweetness from last banquet’s fruit lingered in her memory, and this was the real deal.

Satisfaction welled up within her.

​

Naturally, her lips curved into a smile.

“Hmm.”

Without waiting for permission, she reached out. Cutting into the melon with a fork, she took a bite.

Its soft texture, sweetness, fragrance, and overflowing juice delighted her palate. Each mouthful melted perfectly.

​

It was a flawless melon. How could a simple farmer cultivate such perfection? It was so impeccable that branding it under the royal name seemed justified. Exporting it internationally could even make it a national treasure.

This produce was extraordinary.

​

Moving on to the strawberry—or kingsberry, perhaps—she sliced it neatly with a knife. After rinsing her palate with water, she savored the fruit.

Explosive freshness, satisfying crunch, subtle sweetness building with every chew.

Praise erupted instinctively.

“Excellent.”

“Thank you.”

​

That word “excellent” slipped out reflexively. Despite disliking the farmer earlier due to his refusal regarding the screech owl, these fruits alone earned his forgiveness. Visual charm can never fully compete with gustatory pleasure.

Leaning her chin on the table, she basked in the joy the flavors brought.

If she could enjoy these fruits daily, they’d become a source of constant happiness.

​

Yet she knew well: daily indulgence would dull the thrill. Still, these fruits were remarkable enough to warrant such repetition.

Everything—their worth, marketability, potential—was impeccable.

Hard to believe a single farmer with a screech owl on his shoulder could achieve such quality.

​

“Let me ask again: are you willing to sell seeds?”

“You mean the crop seeds?”

“Yes.”

After a brief pause, the farmer replied confidently, pleasing the princess immensely.

“How many do you need?”

“Hmm. Does this mean you’re open to selling?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll buy all available stock. How much do you have?”

“Preparation can reach several tens of thousands.”

“Good. Bring everything you’ve got.”

“Will you only buy seeds?”

“No. I’ll also purchase the crops. What’s your current trading volume? I’ll double it.”

“We trade 10,000 units bi-weekly.”

“Can you maintain that production level?”

“I’ll need to confirm.”

“Alright. Arrange regular transactions when you’re ready. For now, send whatever you have on hand.”

“Yes, plenty available.”

“The seed price will match the crops. How much?”

“Musk melon and kingsberry seeds currently trade at 20 Gold each.”

“I’ll pay 40 Gold.”

“Thank you.”

​

Clearly, the farmer wasn’t entirely indifferent to money. His widened eyes and trembling gratitude showed he understood its value.

“Still, even at this rate, it’s less than the value of the screech owl on your shoulder.”

“Screech owls cannot be measured in Gold.”

“Hmm. Understood. Your attachment is clear. Don’t push me too hard—I might feel compelled to take it anyway.”

“I understand.”

“A man who doesn’t crumble under authority and power. Rest assured, your screech owl won’t end up anywhere undesirable.”

“If I already rejected a royal proposal, what should I fear?”

“You seemed like a stubborn rock, yet you know how to flatter.”

​

The princess chuckled softly, brushing her black hair aside. A hint of regret flickered in her gaze. Though she claimed no desire for the bird, her longing was genuine.

​

“Fearless, aren’t you?”

“What exactly am I supposed to fear?”

“Did you forget that our royal palace could replicate your crops?”

“I’m aware.”

“Aware? Do you underestimate the royal capabilities or overestimate your own superiority? Either way, arrogance suits you poorly.”

“Not arrogance. I simply trust in the specialness of my crops.”

“No. Not just the crops.”

The princess rose from her seat, approaching the kneeling farmer. Gazing into his eyes, she tilted his chin upward with a finger. His unnaturally pale skin betrayed his humble farming background.

“If the palace fails to replicate your crops, it proves your uniqueness. Farmer, if that happens, I’d have no choice but to hold you in high regard.”

“…Until this delightful taste disappears.”

Their gazes locked. Impudent, indeed—an ordinary peasant maintaining eye contact with royalty. Yet it didn’t irritate her.

​

“Your high evaluation honors me.”

“Remarkable. Did you learn this etiquette somewhere? Are farmers nowadays so well-educated?”

The princess found his balance of humility, resolve, and confidence refreshing. Most people either trembled before royalty, exaggerated their presence, or arrogantly showcased their talents.

He leaned toward the third category.

Curious how an untrained commoner could impress royalty.

“In front of royalty, rudeness isn’t an option.”

“Rudeness already occurred. I merely chose not to chastise it.”

At this, the farmer’s composure wavered slightly. Watching his trembling expression amused her greatly. Finally releasing his chin, she returned to her seat.

“I won’t hold it against you. Stay true to yourself. Groveling like a sycophant won’t be tolerated.”

“Thank you for your kindness.”

“How fascinating.”

Her attention had long shifted from the screech owl to the farmer himself. Crossing her legs, she observed him closely. Though tempted to indulge her curiosity for a week, royal dignity restrained her. Understanding his busy daily life, she respected his time.

“Do you carry the goods in your magic bag?”

“Yes.”

“Then let’s proceed without delay. I’ll send someone over. Wait in the reception room until they arrive.”

“Thank you.”

“You may leave.”

“Yes.”

“Wait. Come closer.”

Impressed by his confident strides, the princess called him back.

“Summoned?”

“What’s your name?”

“Minho.”

“Good. You may go.”

She stroked the screech owl once more before dismissing him.

*

“Thus, 10,000 units each at 800,000 Gold. Seeds at 1,000 units for 40,000 Gold. Total: 840,000 Gold. Correct?”

“Yes, confirmed.”

“Thanks for the excellent deal. Looking forward to future business.”

The staggering sum of 840,000 Gold left him speechless. Stunned, he sat motionless in the reception room for a while.

“Please exit now. Allow me to guide you.”

“Thank you.”

Worried about navigating the labyrinthine palace alone, he followed his escort outside. From meeting the princess to finalizing the deal, everything felt surreal.

Royal generosity truly impressed him. Their grand vision and decisiveness stood out. The interest in his screech owl did raise some concerns, but direct reassurance eased his mind.

Most importantly, the influx of Gold opened new possibilities. Instead of gathering materials manually, he could now afford to buy them, automating his summer farming operations for greater efficiency.

Environment molds people, they say. Never imagined adapting so well to this lifestyle. Must be some latent preference buried deep within my genes.

As lunchtime approached on Day Five of Summer, anticipation outweighed any burden awaiting him at home.

Returning alongside his horse, he noticed subtle changes in Suri—the screech owl’s plumage transitioning from fluffy gray to sleek brown-black hues, golden accents framing piercing black eyes. Despite rapid growth, her weight remained negligible on his shoulder.

When would she start flying?

Eagerly anticipating this milestone, they galloped homeward together.

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