Chapter 34: Monster-Planted Weekend Farm

The imp comments as the gift I offered melts away.

[You… know how to use Magic.]

Is it mocking me?

By the way, those pig bar crumbs would’ve been tasty. What a waste.

“Wait a sec.”

There’s some chocolate cereal shaped like a net on the balcony. Usually, it’s just chocolate cereal, but this variation has all sorts of stuff.

There’s one with white or pink marshmallows mixed in. I bought three bags for free shipping, and with nearly a year until expiration, I’ve left it sitting.

I’ve started eating rice, so I barely touch it.

[What’s that?]

“Here, take it.”

[What is it?]

“It’s safe to eat. Tell the Queen she’ll be happy just tasting it.”

[Uh, ugh. It’s heavy!]

Heavy? It’s just marshmallows. But as I hand it over, the imp’s wings droop. Weakling.

What stats did it even put points into?

“I’ll carry it to the gate for you.”

I kindly pick up the marshmallow and take it to the gate.

[Thank you, SoySauceFactoryManager.]

“Next time, memorize my name.”

[Huh? Oh, uh, yes.]

This could be a test to gauge negotiation posture.

***

“How’d it go? Hm?”

[Huff, huff. Your Majesty.]

It looked light as cotton, but for the imp’s small frame, it was a struggle to carry.

“What is this?”

[The dungeon’s giant sent it for Your Majesty.]

“What is it?”

[It smells sweet, so I think it’s food.]

“Intriguing, but compared to a dragon’s egg, it’s modest. Give it here.”

[You’ll eat it?]

“What, poisoned? I can resist that much. What’s the giant’s level?”

[136.]

“Not much from salamanders, huh. Hmm, someone else is using the gate. Let’s see.”

The Succubus Queen picks up the marshmallow. Small but fluffy, it had a subtle, sweet charm.

As the imp said, it could be poisoned or a trap, but with her level around 47,000, her Stamina could handle poison without much Magic or skill.

“Hm.”

The Queen’s expression shifts to surprise. Though her life among demons wasn’t long, she was born with queenly qualities and enjoyed every luxury. Yet this sweet, addictive flavor was unmatched.

“So sweet. Oh, hm?!”

But as she bit into it, the marshmallow melted away. More precisely, the part she bit vanished, leaving a tiny piece in her grasp.

“Huh?”

“A mockery?”

What was a fluffy, sweet treat she could barely hold shrank to finger-sized. What sorcery was this? The soft, melting texture lingered in her mind. She popped the tiny remnant into her mouth.

“Delicious. The small amount suggests it’s rare there too. If you go back, get more.”

***

On average, the gate spits something out at least once a day. But it’s been over two days with no activity.

The dragon’s egg doesn’t seem to spoil, so I stored it like an egg.

“It’s a dragon’s egg, so refrigeration should keep it fresh, right?”

I’m not eating it now, and honestly… I’ve seen Game of Thrones on the screen channel.

Wasn’t super into it, but that silver-haired lady caught my eye when she appeared naked. She hatched eggs.

No need to use it now, so I’ll store it.

I prep to visit home.

“Hold the fort.”

[Don’t worry.]

[I’ll cook ‘em all!]

No guarantee they won’t use a pincer attack. I set up all the traps I mentioned.

“CatMan, execute the hit-and-run strategy well.”

[Hmph. As always, hunting’s just a pastime for our kind.]

Got it, you beast.

“Hey, fairy lady?”

She flutters. I want to name her, but they say when she awakens, she’ll recall her original name, so I haven’t yet.

The leaves under her bud wave like hands. My family home’s a 50-minute bus ride from a busy terminal, not impossible for a day trip.

I take the early bus to my hometown.

“Oh my, you came! Mother, your son pays his respects.”

I sold some gold and sent 200, adding to the 100 Mom gave me, but she sent it back, insisting on putting me to work. Can’t let a 50-something lady work alone in this heat.

“You can catch wild boars, right?”

“?”

Normally, I’d tell her not to talk nonsense, but…

“Uh, I could.”

I can catch them. I’m itching to use this strength properly. I could lift a truck, blow up water, or shatter mountains. A boar’s no problem.

But Mom seems to take my confidence differently.

“See? You can catch them. Your dad, being a reservist, only knew how to eat lunchboxes. He’d yell, ‘How do you catch a boar?’ Like I’m stupid.”

Reservist? She means a public service worker, right? What’s lunchboxes got to do with it? She always rags on Dad for eating lunchboxes. He can eat them, so what?

“No, normally you can’t catch them. Get it wrong, and you’re bitten to death. It’s been on the news—people killed by boars.”

“You said you could.”

“Well, I think I can. Why?”

“You beat them with a shovel, right? Soldiers do that. They chase boars that show up for food scraps, beat them, and grill the meat. Tastes amazing, they say.”

Whose soldier son spun that tall tale? She believes this nonsense.

“Mother… the Korean military’s not for pest control.”

“But don’t they bash them with rifle butts or shovels?”

Some lady with a soldier husband must’ve fed Mom ridiculous military stories. Dad’s right.

Even licensed hunters tread carefully. Who catches boars with shovels, rifle butts, or boots? That lady must listen well to her husband’s army tales.

“The military’s for catching North Koreans, not boars.”

“You catch both, don’t you?”

She’s been spouting nonsense, but finally something I agree with. Anyway, I got dragged to the field and ended up working on boar-proof fencing.

I want to catch a boar, but they’re hard to track. The skill’s called Level Detection, so it’s tough to trace level-less boars or deer.

“You’ve got a knack. Why not stay and help with the farm?”

My skills have improved a bit. I’m good at drywall and wallpapering.

“Phew, it’s crazy hot. Aren’t you hot?”

Don’t I look cool? It’s a shaded field by the mountain, 32°C, not too bad, but compared to Mom, I barely sweat.

When I hunted cats with Magic 1, the casting speed was slow, and I suffered. Now at 3, I’m fine.

“Have some water, Mom. Put this on your face too.”

“Ice already melted?”

Mom brought three bottles of ice water, but they melted. Ice magic’s handy in summer. Maybe not in winter. Casting simple magic’s pretty fun.

“It’s the era of personal iceboxes. I froze some water solid.”

“Those MZ generation kids carry everything.”

These days, older folks call everything MZ.

“What’re you doing?”

“Oh, just burying something.”

I’m burying a level 75 salamander corpse. Since the necromancer escape, no big monsters have come, so no issues yet.

I grind captured monster corpses to prevent pest revival, extract skills, and dispose of them carefully.

Grinding them well prevents level or skill leaks. The necromancer was eaten by CatMan, boosting his regeneration skill.

“Wanna eat this? Hot fire lizard?”

I offered, hoping for a fire cat, but got, [You’ve got no respect for me, who earns your money.]

Fair point. Feeding monsters is weird. I wouldn’t eat it either. If I scolded CatMan for eating a rat that ate a necromancer, I’d be the weird one. I grew up hearing cats eat rats, not Churu.

The salamander corpse was small but buried deep and covered. Its level wasn’t extracted, just dead as is, so it’s probably fine. Even if it revives, it’d have to crawl out of the ground.

<salamander finds peace>

<fire-attributed plants begin to thrive>

<spicy plants begin to thrive>

<herbs grown here can be used to make high fire-resistance potions>

“…What?”

They’re fertilizer? I’ve been agonizing over what to do with monster corpses—eat them?— but just burying them works?

“Mom!”

“What?”

“Should we plant peppers?”

“In midsummer? Plant now if you want them to fail.”

“Then something spicy. Not peppers, maybe garlic?”

“Garlic might work. But those boars better not eat them.”

“Garlic-fed pork would be killer.”

“Why garlic?”

“Just feel like garlic would grow well here. I’m craving it. Grow some and send me some.”

“What, to eat in your room and become human?”

I want to jab back, but it’d inevitably be a dad joke, so I hold off.

Finished the work and halfheartedly searched for boars. A Druid trait might help, but I can’t track boars now.

On the way back, Mom says from the car, “Why not do some tutoring? You liked teaching kids.”

“Tutoring?”

Kids are tougher than monsters. I’m realizing how simple it is to deal with enemies you can punch.

“You know Young-sook’s daughter, right?”

“Oh, yeah. The punk?”

“You call my friend’s daughter a punk?”

“You said she’s a total punk.”

“Did I?”

“Yes.”

Blatant fabrication. She did call someone’s kid a punk, but I don’t know if it’s Young-sook’s daughter.

“Anyway, she’s retaking exams in Daejeon. Tutor her.”

All my complaints about kids, and she ignores them. And she wants me to tutor a punk?

“You’re the real punk.”

“Ha, kids’ insults shame the parents, but you’re shameless, Mom.”

I got smacked.

“Anyway, Young-sook’s offering 50,000 won per hour. Make her human, please.”

“Where’s she live? If it’s far, I’m out.”

“Nearby. Wolpyeong-dong, near KAIST.”

Not too far. CatMan and RiceCookerMan can handle that.

“Tell her I’ll do it, but I want a bonus if her grades go up.”

“Can you raise them?”

“Why tutor without confidence? That’s free money.”

“Oh, really?”

I’ve got a trump card. RiceCookerMan’s level is high enough that his sikhye boosts Intelligence by about 60–70.

If I feed her sikhye during tutoring, September mocks, and exam morning, her grades will likely rise.

RiceCookerMan’s sikhye market opening?

No consumer base is as irrationally driven as exam parents. They’d never buy shady, uncertified handmade sikhye, but if it really boosts grades?