“Another failure, huh.”
Princess.
Dellia smirks, lifting just one side of her mouth.
“I’ll try again with a different method.”
“No.”
Chin resting on her hand, her gaze grows cold and disinterested. The manager’s face slowly turns pale as he watches her.
“This is the third time you’ve failed, isn’t it?”
“I’m sorry. Next time…”
“Next time?”
Dellia’s indifferent word feels like a cold verdict.
“You’re going to guarantee success?”
“…Yes. I’ll make it happen.”
“Convince me. Why should I support someone who’s failed three times?”
“We can promise large quantities, quality improvement, and exclusive rights for the royal family…”
“Boring. That man was much more entertaining.”
Dellia waves her hand dismissively, signaling for him to leave. The seed cultivator leaves without a word, despair evident on his face.
“Is farming a talent?”
“Seems that way.”
“It’s strange how different results come from the same seeds. You’re not some druid, are you?”
“Do you think we were given bad seeds?”
“Cheating me? Even better – then I can enslave you for life, can’t I?”
Thinking of the kingdom…
The princess’s logic.
“Crop reactions?”
“Still explosive. Releasing limited amounts has been effective.”
“Hmph. Like food addicts.”
Dellia slowly takes a bite of melon, savoring it.
“Mmm… Isn’t it?”
“It is quite promising.”
“Yes. Things that enchant and fascinate always have value.”
Juice bursting.
Sweet fragrance flowing.
Softness gently coating her mouth.
Delia’s expression becomes entranced. This was a product worthy of making nobles rush to the palace with bundles of money. At banquets, lacking this would be seen as incompetence. It had become a test of noble connections and wealth.
“Garim.”
“Yes.”
“We need to show even a farmer can grasp treasure.”
“What scheme do you have in mind?”
“Hope.”
“Could you elaborate?”
“I’ll grant a title to a farmer.”
“This farmer?”
“Yes. Minho, wasn’t it?”
“Legally…”
“It’s my country. My kingdom. If my people can rise, they should have that small hope. It makes them work harder.”
In her alluring voice, Garim saw a glimpse of queenly presence – absolute confidence that all would follow her.
“How will you handle the nobles?”
“He has something they want.”
“The crops?”
“Exactly. Nobles with daughters will grovel before him when our supply decreases.”
“Another plan to divide the nobility?”
“Result-wise.”
“Using a farmer to create new power dynamics.”
“Isn’t it exciting?”
“Undeniably interesting.”
“Good feeling about this.”
“I’ll prepare accordingly.”
“Make sure it’s thorough. Understand?”
“Yes.”
Garim bowed, thinking about previous schemes:
Once with gems, inflating noble vanity.
Once with knighthood, framing honor.
Once with magic, extracting money.
Always dividing them, keeping them weak. This plan had similar intentions.
Those who’d bow to a farmer…
And those who wouldn’t.
Political lines were already clear.
How could they chase trends while hiding their inadequacies?
“Farmer’s going to have it tough.”
Even with noble titles offered…
Would this farmer appreciate it? Didn’t seem like it.
The princess could be cruel sometimes, striking at weaknesses relentlessly. Though charming, this was her warrior’s instinct.
“What title should we give…”
Baron seems safe, but with her mood swings, viscount or even count might happen.
Long explanations about bringing trends to royalty, leading future happiness through crops… She’d force her ideas regardless.
“A farmer count, hmm?”
Smirking at the absurdity, though it could be amusing if rare.
Serving the princess wasn’t regrettable.
*
“Long time no see.”
Arriving at the capital after days of travel, someone meets me. The royal seal worked quickly.
A bit unsettling – they probably track all seal holders constantly.
When I asked casually, they said having the seal meant the royal family could summon me anytime, seeing it as an honor.
“From here, I’ll guide you.”
“Understood.”
Deep voice, neat gold-embroidered uniform.
Garim appears to lead me, our quiet footsteps echoing through the palace halls.
“Any questions?”
“Since the princess invited me directly, I thought I’d understand naturally upon meeting her.”
“Hm. True enough. Still, congratulations in advance.”
“For what?”
“Good news might be coming. Maybe.”
We stand before the princess’s office.
“May we enter?”
Knock-knock.
“Enter.”
Soft voice greets us. A subtle peach scent fills the air as the princess sits regally, long black hair cascading down.
“Take a seat.”
“Yes.”
“Garim, you may leave.”
“Understood.”
The door closes, leaving silence.
“Still carrying that screech owl, I see.”
“It’s become one with me, inseparable.”
“Right. You refused a noble title before, cherishing your pet. Has that changed?”
“No.”
“Good.”
She quickly loses interest compared to our first meeting. Perhaps she sees it as unobtainable now.
“Do you know how your crops affect high society?”
“Considering I haven’t debuted in society…”
“Haha. True. You wouldn’t.”
Chuckling, she continues in a softer tone.
“Still, perhaps that could change soon.”
“Excuse me?”
“Shouldn’t you see the trend you’ve created yourself?”
Her suggestive tone leaves me uneasy.
“Commoners at banquets would upset nobles… Let’s see…”
She pulls out documents, revealing a “Noble Title Appointment Letter.”
“Baron. Quite the elevation.”
Her sweet voice tempts subtly, creating pressure despite no direct urging.
“Signing this makes me a baron?”
“Yes. Known as the Melon Baron.”
“Melon Baron…”
“Enticing, isn’t it?”
“What would be my price?”
“Ho ho. You understand trade well.”
“Just assumed you wouldn’t give this freely.”
“I admire your solid values. There is a price, of course.”
Pausing slightly…
Too difficult? Or burdensome?
I consider refusing if needed. The title means little to me.
“Nobles will bother you occasionally.”
Confused by my blank stare, she explains further.
“You know we’ve been protecting your information?”
“I’ve noticed it hasn’t spread randomly.”
“Sharp. We did protect you. Until one mistake ruined it.”
“I heard.”
“So your address has likely leaked somewhat. That’s why you’ll have to endure some nuisance.”
Ah.
Remembering that noble who visited before. Name escapes me now. Not important anymore. This “nuisance” sounds quite bothersome.
“With a noble title, these will be less annoying. Also recognition for your contributions.”
“For what?”
“You don’t need to know. Consider it payment for future achievements.”
Her gentle smile feels slightly sinister. The perfect twist unnerves me.
“Will you accept?”
“What happens if I refuse?”
“Don’t push me.”
Trying to explore options, but she already reads my mind, smiling knowingly.
“Thank you.”
“Sign here.”
Becoming a noble this easily?
Didn’t expect such rewards visiting the capital. Never even thought of receiving “rewards.”
Since our first meeting, her image stayed consistent.
Title…
Signing my name feels surreal. Becoming a noble brings odd excitement. Will nobles treat me differently now? Hard to tell really, just a piece of paper now.
“Lord Melon. Congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
“Without territory, a noble is incomplete. Let’s see…”
Pretending to deliberate, she studies my reaction.
“Isn’t it Valley of Starwind where you live?”
“Yes.”
“That’s your land.”
Valley of Starwind as my land?
Completely unexpected development.
“What happens now?”
“Govern as you wish.”
“Understood.”
“Good. You may leave. Remember, starting today you’re Lord Melon. Don’t tarnish the name lightly.”
“Understood.”
Her meaningful expression lingers. What does she truly want?
Leaving with unanswered questions and slight unease.
“Lord!”
Garim approaches smiling, offering his hand. Did he know already?
“Among nobles, using honorifics is basic etiquette. We’ll likely meet often. Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too. What’s your title?”
“I’m also a baron.”
Same rank.
Had no idea.
Baron Garim.
Of course, working directly for the princess, he must be a noble.
Thus, officially becoming a royal-recognized baron.
Rather dizzily so.
![[TS] The End of Magical Girls Has Come](https://i3.wp.com/darkmtl.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/01/1737407792-8993-TS-The-end-of-magical-girls-has-come.png?resize=85,105 "[TS] The End of Magical Girls Has Come")
