Chapter 108

Autumn is more than halfway through.

It’s already reached the two-thirds point, and the weather is gradually growing colder. Though it hasn’t yet dipped into the bone-chilling cold that straddles the line between cool and refreshing, it will be soon. In about two weeks, snow will fall, and the season where trees shed their leaves will arrive.

Winter in the game is a time to build inner strength. Since the game aims for leisurely healing, winter is a slow-moving season. It feels fitting to bundle up by the fireplace, cocooned against the freezing cold, and stay snug indoors.

Of course, the main reason from an efficiency standpoint is that farming isn’t possible during this time. Seeds can’t sprout due to the extreme cold. There are some special winter seeds, but they’re mostly tied to rare achievements. Winter becomes a season for leveling up skills like fishing, combat, logging, mining, going on adventures, and exploring dungeons.

That’s what winter is all about. And since it limits certain activities, autumn is the time to prepare and make the most of what can’t be done in winter. But thanks to automation, there’s not much I personally need to do.

While passing the time, I’ve noticed high-level gear flowing nicely. Since partially automating the system, my days have been mainly focused on raising my combat level, gathering materials, and crafting items. Mining, logging, and farming run smoothly on their own, so there’s no need for me to intervene. The only slightly slow part is mining, but adding more workers would solve that, so I don’t worry too much.

As a result, my combat level has reached High 7, and my fishing level is nearing High 6. This is thanks to constantly hunting and fishing while traveling back and forth through dungeons.

There have been plenty of good news lately. First, Garim informed me that we’ve been granted permission to install a teleportation device. Thanks to this, we’ve set one up in Reyvik, enabling easier trade and exchange with the city. The villagers now enjoy increased convenience when traveling to and from the city. While it was primarily intended for people coming from Marco’s side, the device has brought positive effects to the village as well. Seeing smiles on everyone’s faces makes me think it was a good decision.

Thanks to this, trading with the city has become much smoother. Although the regular trading schedule remains every two weeks, the reduced distance means less time spent traveling. While it doesn’t directly benefit me, the merchant guilds gain stability and save time, which reflects positively on pricing. Recently, the prices of my crops have seen a small increase, which is a nice bonus for me.

“Minho!”

As I sit here organizing my thoughts, Anne quietly approaches and drapes a newly knitted sweater over me. It’s brownish, soft, and fluffy, with little tufts sticking out here and there, but it’s shaped well enough to be recognizable as clothing.

“How’s it?”

Lately, Anne has been deeply engrossed in making clothes. She spins yarn from sheep’s wool and crafts various garments. Sometimes she uses leather or duck feathers to create warm vests.

Of course, trial and error come with starting something new. Failed attempts often get cut into tiny pieces and given to the fairies. These misshapen scraps bring joy to the fairies, who wear them proudly as they flit around. Anne even claims she made them specifically for the fairies to boost her self-esteem. Win-win, I guess.

“It’s well-made.”

Seeing the hint that I should try it on, I slip it over my head right there. It’s a bit scratchy but overall comfortable. A cozy warmth envelops me, and the stitching looks decent. This is her first successful piece—well, her first successful human-sized garment. Many of the fairy outfits were… unconventional.

“I’ll make one for Daddy and Jack later!”

With a cheerful giggle, Anne claps her hands. It’s heartwarming to see her develop such a wholesome and enjoyable hobby.

Though she hasn’t abandoned gardening entirely, her recent focus has clearly shifted toward making clothes. Not that it’s bad—it’s great that she’s found her passion—but the floral scents inside the house have grown fainter.

Wearing the slightly rough but warm sweater Anne gave me, I step outside. A crisp breeze carries the nutty aroma of grain, mingling with the scent of dry leaves swirling in the air. Autumn leaves dance gracefully, and brittle, dried leaves roll across the ground before being carried away by the unusually strong wind.

“Hi, Minho! Hi!”

“Thank you! The sweater is beautiful!”

The fairies have started distinguishing names. It began after Anne started giving them clothes. With more than one person to thank, they now call us “Anne” and “Minho.” Their voices sound adorable, especially when paired with their mismatched, patchwork outfits.

“That’s what you should tell Anne.”

“Oh, got it!”

“It’s the same sweater!”

Sometimes the fairies confuse each other, but I don’t mind correcting them. Some listen, others don’t—it’s all part of the charm.

A fairy compares its outfit, which matches mine in color, then bursts into laughter. Her giggles echo beautifully, stretching long and wide in the autumn air.

“Will you join us for lunch today?”

Evangeline pokes her head out from the door and asks me.

“Yes, I’ll return around lunchtime.”

“Alright. Don’t overexert yourself.”

Evangeline greets me with concern. Her apron features a distorted bunny drawing—so abstract that you’d never recognize it unless Anne insists it’s a rabbit. Still, Evangeline wears it faithfully while cooking, perhaps boosting Anne’s self-esteem. The nickname “Bunny Apron” exists, though Jack subtly shakes his head when he hears it. Lucky me for not noticing earlier.

“Me too! Give me clothes!”

“Me too!”

It seems Anne’s handmade clothes have become a trend among the fairies. Word must’ve spread because more and more fairies are shyly asking for clothes. Perhaps there’s something special about Anne’s creations. Is it the imperfection? The loose, unfinished look? I’m not sure, but there’s definitely some charm to it. Even the fairy knights seem intrigued.

Lowering my gaze, I examine the sweater I’m wearing. It’s warm but far from perfect. Fashion-wise, it’s lacking, but it fulfills its purpose. More importantly, it’s meaningful because Anne made it for me.

“Wait! I’ll do everyone in order!”

“Me too! Me too!”

Humans and fairies usually can’t communicate directly, but these days things are different. Simple phrases like “clothes,” “me too,” and “wait” are now understood by both sides. When Anne says “wait,” the fairies puff out their lips but still happily accept scraps or torn pieces, fluttering their wings with joy. Watching their happiness brings a smile to Anne’s face.

In a way, Anne has become the guardian of her own self-esteem, and the fairies adore her creations so much that it’s hard to complain.

Evangeline occasionally makes snacks for the waiting fairies—dried fruits, nuts, and dairy products. Watching them gather around the table, munching happily, fills me with a sense of calm.

Leaving the farm behind, I tighten the sweater and head toward the lake. After swinging my sword wildly in the dungeon, I’m feeling a bit tired of combat. Today, I plan to clear my mind and spend the day fishing. Solitude is also a form of healing.

“Huff.”

Sitting on the bench where Anne and I usually rest, I lean back and enjoy the coolness. A few fallen leaves cover the seat, but sweeping them away is easy enough.

Fishing hones sensory skills—reaction speed, intuition, endurance. Physically, that’s the advantage fishing gives me.

But diving deeper into fishing reveals more nuances.

The pull of the fish tells you its type. How to reel it in depends on the species. Knowing which fish thrive in certain areas comes naturally.

This knowledge and experience become instinctual, ingrained in your body. Trying to explain it verbally makes you stumble, but acting on it feels natural.

“Red snapper.”

With a splash, I land a red snapper and place it in the nearby bucket.

I once made a portable fishing bucket to store my catches. It might be sentimental, but it feels better than stuffing fish directly into a bag. Maybe it’s the uncle-like vibe kicking in as I reach higher levels in fishing.

“Rainbow trout.”

Splash.

Releasing the hook, I drop the rainbow trout into the bucket. Guessing the type of fish before it surfaces is fun and rewarding—I’m right eight times out of ten.

“Moon-eye.”

With another splash, the fish lands. It’s been a while since we had sashimi. I haven’t given any fish to Evangeline recently, so there haven’t been any seafood dishes on the table. Though I could cook it myself at the fishing spot, sharing it with everyone sounds nice.

Sharing special fish always brings back fond memories, illuminating a corner of our lives with joy.

“Cod.”

Muttering to myself, I continue fishing absentmindedly. Clearing my mind while casting the rod makes time melt away. Before I know it, the sun has traced a gentle arc, signaling that it’s lunchtime. Without any combat interruptions, it’s time to head home.

With a satisfying stretch, I pack up my fishing gear and walk back, my steps light as the breeze.

Fluttering fairies fill the air. Normally sprinkling white and silver stardust, they’re now adorned in earthy browns. Their happy expressions leave no room for complaints, though I can’t help but smile.

Handing the fish to Evangeline and suggesting we have seafood tonight, I enjoy a delightful lunch followed by a lazy afternoon. Just as I start to relax, someone visits the house.

It’s Rossu.

“Lord Baron!”

“Hey.”

Judging by the dozens of men following him, I can guess why he’s here. My reinforcements have arrived.

“The people sent by Baron Marco have arrived.”

“Thank you for your hard work.”

“Yes, I’ll take my leave now.”

Some stare blankly at me, others gape at the fairies darting around. Standing tall in the brown sweater Anne made, I approach them confidently.

“Hello. I’m Baron Minho, your leader starting today.”

Their reactions are muted. Being dragged here, I understand their reluctance and don’t push it.

“You’ll be responsible for security, mining, and construction-related tasks.”

A faint sigh ripples through the group. Hard work. Difficult jobs. Who wants them?

“I’ll pay 80 gold per week.”

Speeches or stories work best when the impactful part comes either at the beginning or end. I prefer placing it at the end—it adds a twist that makes the message stick.

Eyes light up among the men. Their postures shift, and subtle grins appear.

“I trust you’ll do well.”

“We trust you, sir!”

“Thank you!”

“Is it really 80 gold per week?”

As soon as I finish speaking, a cacophony of excited voices erupts. Good. Loud enthusiasm beats silence any day. That’s how my village gained 100 additional laborers.