Chapter 45

It must not swell into arrogance. The dragon’s roar that makes my body tingle. Right after turning on the UI to check the achievements. Reaching the end of the dungeon isn’t exactly the same as conquering it. I’ll place my hope in that slight difference. [Achievement Unlocked!] [Achievement: There’s Only One Life In Reality, So Be Careful! (End Of The Dungeon)] Hmm… there’s only one life in reality, so I need to be careful. As soon as I confirm the achievement, I close the door and retreat. My fingertips are trembling, each joint aching with that tingling sensation. What’s the reward for floor 50? Is the boss manageable? But this overwhelming presence renders such concerns meaningless. Even at high combat levels, can I really take them on? Naturally, I shake my head in negation. That’s what dragons are. Nothing like the ones from books, novels, or manga—this is a truly realistic presence. In front of such overwhelming momentum, anyone’s confidence would falter. Now I understand why parties form for raids. Why is there a dragon in the 50th floor of what was supposed to be a peaceful healing game? No matter, it’s none of my concern; I resolve to dismiss it. Back to floor 49. All that’s left is to ascend. Through the 40s, into the 30s. From the 20s down to the teens. Evading when possible, occasionally fighting when necessary, I preserve my health while climbing back to the surface. Exiting the dungeon entrance filled with unpleasant smells, I take a deep breath. Though I tried to act otherwise, my body was still tense from encountering the dragon. The memory etched deeply into my mind will not fade anytime soon. Pitter-patter, pitter-patter. It’s raining again today, a season of sticky, hot summer reminiscent of the rainy season. Intermittent rain repeats its cycle of intensifying and weakening, dampening the path home. Blood and mucus. Tension from battle. Unpleasant odors. Slowly, everything feels washed away by the rain. Despite needing to farm upon arriving home, I hurry my steps intending to rest briefly before heading inside. As soon as I open the door, Suri greets me with drooping eyes. Though I look quite pitiful, Suri clings to me without hesitation, spreading her wings wide and embracing me tightly. “Pee! Pee. Peea. Pee. Pee.” What’s troubling her so much? She presses herself against my dirty, smelly body with those big, round eyes. Perhaps missing me after just one day apart. Reflecting, I recall countless days spent together with Suri without fail. Though I explained about going to the dungeon, she probably didn’t fully understand. A lack of consideration on my part. Seeing her sobbing like this, I feel somewhat apologetic. Maybe she thought I abandoned her during the time we were apart. Quietly stroking her, I assure her softly. Whether she understands or not doesn’t matter—it’s more important to convey emotion and make a promise. I’ll never abandon you. Gradually, Suri’s trembling body calms. Her whining subsides, her wobbling eyes stabilizing, revealing their characteristic night-sky hue. Delicate golden light encircles her beauty as brown, black, gold, and sky colors decorate her sturdy little feathered frame. “Shall we bathe together?” “Peep.” Hearing my voice, she seems to have regained some composure, so I bring her along. Since she doesn’t mind water, it’s time to clean up together after getting so dirty. After showering, I dry her thoroughly with a towel until her fur gleams clean and shiny. “Suri, let me plant some seeds Dad brought.” Trying to place her on the bed, but her firm claws grip my shoulder stubbornly, refusing to budge. Determined not to leave no matter what, she clings tightly. With her bright, sparkling eyes expressing her desire to come along, I reluctantly head out with her perched on my shoulder. The rain grows stronger. Her face and feathers soaked, the once fluffy bundle diminishes but shows no signs of distress. Well, I just showered anyway, so it’s fine—I can always wash again later. Arriving at the designated area, I plant the seeds. Thanks to having everything neatly organized on the first day, it goes smoothly. Observing quietly from my shoulder, Suri eventually taps me with her beak and helps pick up seeds to assist in planting. Up and down, helping a bit here and there—her random assistance is oddly endearing. Completing the sowing after returning from the dungeon, twilight approaches. The clouds part slightly, allowing the sun to peek through as dusk paints the sky—a picturesque scene indeed. Briefly enjoying the view, I return to reality. Finally, it’s time to unlock the greenhouse. At the crafting table, I begin reconstruction: 15,000 wood pieces, 10,000 stone pieces—a staggering 25,000 tasks ahead. Yet, my heart remains cheerful. A faint hologram of the greenhouse appears at the center of the field, signaling the start of restoration. Although unlikely to finish in a day or two, beginning feels like significant progress. Time passes quickly, and as the moon rises, I continue working under its soft glow alongside scattered tools and materials. The summer’s twelfth night fades this way. On the thirteenth day, a pleasant warmth fills my brain—a great way to wake up. My combat level has increased by two, reaching mid-level 6. Though battles may be scarce for a while, growth always feels good. Oddly enough, my mining level also went up—one step closer to mid-level 9. Golems and rocks must’ve contributed experience points. Cooking might soon enter mid-level territory too. Painkillers and defensive food buffs are sufficient, so breakfast starts off homemade. Suri munches happily on raw meat. Refreshing myself with a glass of cool water, I head to the fields. The sun blazes brightly. The heat and humidity of summer mercilessly assault the air outside my non-air-conditioned home. Fortunately, my strengthened physique handles it decently. Seed planting begins—an ordinary morning routine. Around lunchtime, as sweat drenches my back and drips from my forehead, familiar footsteps approach. It’s Horn and his soldiers, regular trading partners. “Long time no see.” “Yes, it’s been a while.” “We came on the last day of spring, the first day of summer, but you weren’t around. We heard you were called by the royal palace.” “Ah, sorry about that. Unavoidable circumstances kept me away.” “Of course, anything involving the royal palace is understandable.” “Lucky for us, the trade worked out.” “Congratulations! That’s why we decided to visit again two weeks later.” Two weeks technically means this is slightly early, but considering the previous missed opportunity, it’s reasonable. “The kingsberries were well-received. By any chance…can we purchase at the same price? You mentioned equal quantity and price.” “Sure. Let’s do that. Ten thousand each for twenty gold, correct?” “Yes, thank you. Forty million gold, here you go.” Soldiers hand over boxes stacked with gold. Glancing briefly, I can’t tell the exact amount, but the system shop will confirm once placed in my bag later. Taking out crops from my bag—ten thousand units each. Despite harvesting extensively during spring, these numbers vanish quickly. One royal transaction, one city deal—that’s all it takes to deplete stock. Quickly opening the greenhouse, cultivation becomes essential. Two million gold every two weeks—how could I give that up? “Still top quality. We’ll take our leave now.” “Thank you, travel safely.” Their cheerful expressions suggest they’re looking forward to finishing work. Watching them come and go swiftly reminds me of salaried workers’ struggles. Turning back to the greenhouse, two million gold every two weeks demands consistent supply. Likely, summer crops will gain popularity, increasing profits further by autumn—all hinging on the greenhouse. Preparing mentally to work through the night, I arrange tools piece by piece, building according to specifications. Convenient compared to real construction, yet still burdensome due to sheer volume. Grateful there’s no land leveling or foundation laying involved. Work continues until the sun sinks below the horizon, then persists as the moon slowly ascends and descends. Monotonous rather than exhausting, thankfully puzzle-like assembly adds some fun. Without it, this repetitive labor would’ve been far tougher. About half the project is done. Completion looks possible within two to four days of intense effort. Feeling accomplished despite fatigue, I retire for the night. Having stayed up all night working, dawn barely breaks outside. Normally, I’d get two to three hours of sleep before starting again—but exhaustion hits hard, so I immediately drift off. On the fourteenth day, waking up after three hours leaves me slightly disoriented. Downing a large glass of water clears my head. Routine actions help even when tired—morning arrives, seeding follows. Lunch with Suri, then greenhouse reconstruction resumes. Predictably, work stretches into the dim pre-dawn hours. On the fifteenth day, rising after two hours, fatigue lingers but my strong body holds up. Morning chores done, greenhouse restoration begins. Though zombie-like and tedious, I push forward for future gains. Watching materials disappear brings satisfaction. Focused on the idea that when they’re gone, so too ends this arduous task. Work concludes. Staying up all night proved effective. Unexpectedly finishing in two days highlights the value of minimal sleep and relentless focus. The greenhouse stands complete, revealing itself in the dark evening, glowing faintly amidst the night. A strange, warm structure radiating comforting energy without sunlight. This must be how it works. Its vibrant, cozy atmosphere feels pleasant. Maybe summer enhances it—stepping into a warm space from the humid heat feels refreshing. Automatic sprinklers need installation next, and seeds must be planted soon for musk melons and kingsberries. However, fatigue overtakes me. Just completing the greenhouse brings joy, but exhaustion hits hard. Fighting off drowsiness proves difficult amidst feelings of accomplishment. On the fifteenth day of summer, the greenhouse is finally finished.