Moving At the Crack of Dawn

"You're already heading out?"

Go Jin-mook asked, glancing back and forth between his phone and the people standing before him. His old habit of waking before dawn to prep for a restaurant opening had stayed with him, so his eyes had opened early — but he'd never expected to walk in on a scene like this.

The father-and-son pair of farmers weren't just up; they were already fully kitted out in their work clothes. And the son, he'd been told, was only in his second year of middle school — yet there he stood, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠everything ready, without a word of complaint, his eyes bright and clear.

No — if anything, he actually looked like he was enjoying it?

Go Jin-mook couldn't hide his bewilderment. It was the reaction of a complete civilian with not a shred of farming knowledge to his name.

It was 4:30 in the morning. This was the golden hour, when the air was pleasantly cool and there was plenty of time to get real work done. With only two weekends a week, wasting them was out of the question.

So he'd been on his way to the field to help with the fencing, intending to detach Bong-gu — snoring away, dead to the world — before he left. That dog did nothing but drool over the crops; he was next to useless.

"You're up early. I was just about to head to the field — want to come along?"

It was a casual offer, thrown out since we'd run into each other anyway. Go Jin-mook took a moment to process my words, then hurriedly raked a hand through his hair and cried out, "I-I'll be right out!"

For the week, Go Jin-mook would be staying in the smallest of the guest rooms. A little pitiful, given his size — but still better than sleeping in the living room.

On the way to the field, he muttered from inside the truck, "I-I didn't know ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠you'd be leaving this early, so I didn't have time to prepare."

"That's on us for not telling you. We didn't expect you to come along either."

I'd only mentioned it in passing. I never imagined he'd actually insist on joining.

To be fair, Go Jin-mook was the man who had sold the land, not a farmer. All he really needed to do was check whether the seeds had sprouted a week from now — I hadn't expected him to tag along in person.

Father watched him with a fond smile, then pulled the truck to a stop. "We're here."

The plot was close enough to the house that we could have walked, but this was our first day of actual work on this field, and we needed a mountain of supplies. Plenty of equipment to drop off, and more seeds than I could count to sow into the ground.

The plan for this field was to experiment with transplanting carrots. The sooner I had those results, the sooner I could sign sales contracts with the Nonghyup or Taeram and start making money. Of course, the land imprinting had to come first.

Father and Go Jin-mook were busy unloading the truck, so I slipped quietly into the vinyl greenhouse. I planned to use this opening to finish the imprinting.

"This is going to be tight."

Now that I was a 2nd Circle mage, I could perform a higher-tier version of the imprinting than before. The improvement was slight — well, very slight — but a superior imprint was a superior imprint, wasn't it?

Crops grow faster in fields bearing an upper-grade imprint.

Last time, when I'd laid down a higher-grade imprint, the crops' growth rate had jumped from double to triple. It'd be nice if it got even faster this time.

I locked the greenhouse door from the inside. It was my first attempt at this particular working, and I wanted to keep interference to a minimum. If my concentration broke at the wrong moment, the mana could surge backward — and when things like this went wrong, I was the one who suffered.

"The greenhouse frame is already here, so no need for separate stakes."

This was the vinyl greenhouse I'd once flooded with my own mana to restore its flow. In other words, traces of my mana already lingered in it, which meant the imprinting would go somewhat easier here than elsewhere.

Focus.

The range: this entire large greenhouse. I arbitrarily divided the mana flowing within it, then concentrated each divided portion onto the corner points along the greenhouse's edges.

For this imprint, I intended to center the pattern on the flow of time. At its heart would sit the symbol representing the weave of time, and around it, layered along the outer rings, I would inscribe a pattern wishing the crops safe growth along with each of the motifs I'd carved before.

Small imprints gathering together, roots spreading from the center out to the four directions. Curves and straight lines. Spirals, and even points. I had to draw the intricate, complicated patterns without a single mistake.

"Whew—"

The cooling spell I'd been maintaining had long since winked out, its mana spent. I bore the growing heat inside the greenhouse and pressed on, until at last I could see the end ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of a pattern that had seemed like it would expand forever.

"...And finish, here!"

Fwooosh—

The mana-soaked earth began to glow. Unlike last time, it flared a brilliant blue-green before the light dimmed and settled across the whole field. It had nearly slipped out of alignment midway, but all things considered, a solid showing.

"Oof..."

I felt like I could collapse at any second. I hadn't even started the real farm work yet — this was bad. Clearly needed more exercise.

I was just planning to increase my dawn workout starting tomorrow when a system window began to scroll up before my eyes.

I lay sprawled on the floor, catching my breath as I read through the notifications. Sure enough, the plants' growth rate had increased exactly as I'd hoped.

"I really should research upper-grade imprints further."

At this speed, I might even be able to grow sweet potatoes in under three days. Which would nearly double my production volume and my income—!

Make enough money, and most problems solve themselves.

I was still awash in rosy daydreams when I sensed movement outside the greenhouse.

Rustle—

"Huh? Why is this locked? Ji-on, you in there? Open the door for me, would you?"

"Ah — right, sorry."

Apparently they'd finished sorting the equipment and seeds faster than expected. Well, two grown men working together — it'd be more of a problem if they were slow.

"Mmmgh—"

I dusted myself off, got up, and opened the door. The moment it swung open, Father took one look at me and asked, "Hm? What did you do to get caked in dirt like that?"

I quietly averted my eyes. Bong-gu wasn't around to pin it on, either. All I could do was laugh awkwardly and improvise.

"Haha, I was messing around with the soil and, well... didn't realize how much of it I'd picked up."

"You're soaked in sweat, too. To focus on playing in the dirt until you're in this state — I thought our son was all grown up, but you're still a child, aren't you?"

I am not a child in the slightest. But I didn't have the strength to argue, so I just nodded along.

"What should I do?"

asked Go Jin-mook, who had followed Father inside, a hoe cradled in his arms.

"First we till the field to even out the soil. After that, we build the ridges."

And so Father — a novice farmer of exactly one month — began a full lecture for Go Jin-mook, the greenest of farming rookies. Hold this like so, do that like this... He hadn't been at it long, but his theoretical knowledge seemed to rival even Maternal Grandfather's. And Go Jin-mook listened to the lecture with utmost seriousness, even practicing his grip on the shovel and hoe as he went.

Personally, I think learning by doing beats learning by theory every time. Why spend the time debating when you could just till the field and plant the seeds?

"Shall we get started, then?"

There were three of us, so dividing the labor seemed best. Go Jin-mook would till the field, Father would follow behind building the ridges, and I'd trail along the ridges planting carrot seeds.

"Alright, let's get to it."

"Yes, I'm ready!"

The work proceeded exactly according to plan. Go Jin-mook proved that his hulking frame was no accident, showing off staggering stamina.

"This is practically the same as swinging a wok! I could keep going all day. Ugh...!"

He fumbled now and then, but this much was respectable. Father, too, seemed to have built up quite a bag of tricks over the past month, chasing right on Go Jin-mook's heels without any real sign of fatigue. As for me, I worked steadily at my own rhythm — dig, plant, cover, repeat.

As the work went on, the carrot's share on the system display kept climbing. And the fact that they registered as Clear Eye Carrots rather than plain carrots meant their special effects survived the transplanting intact.

If that's the case, selling them really is on the table.

The key now was how many days a single growing cycle would take. The growth rate seemed similar to the sweet potatoes', so I could make a rough guess, but it wouldn't be exact. I'd have to grow them once to know the real timeline.

Well, as long as I harvested them, buyers wouldn't be hard to find. Come to think of it, the elders of Jakgol-ri had aging eyes too — maybe it was time to hold an auction for the first time in a while. Making it a little village event, held regularly, didn't sound bad at all. Until my trading partners were locked in, what I did with the harvest was my call, after all.

Of course, there were two parties interested in buying the carrots: the Nonghyup and Taeram Food.

The Nonghyup already had an existing trade relationship with me, which meant they knew exactly how business with them worked. Branch Head Park Byung-gyu had practically come to regard me as his guardian angel since the sweet potato deal — there was little chance of me getting stabbed in the back there.

Taeram Food, on the other hand, was an unknown quantity. But they offered one advantage big enough to outweigh that drawback: processed food products. The potential to reach a far wider market.

Right. Taeram ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠showed me the road ahead — going with them is the correct call.

By the time I'd settled my thoughts, the work was somehow already finished. It was almost time for breakfast.

Grrrumble—

Thunder rolled from my stomach.

"We're going in to eat. Breakfast time!"

The breakfast waiting for us at home was enough to bring tears to my eyes. Mother had gotten up earlier than usual to prepare it. The nutty scent of toasted sesame oil teased the appetite — a rich beef seaweed soup, along with the tangy fresh kimchi she'd just started fermenting last night and sweet potato candied in glossy honey. And then, the momentous main dish: potato and Clear Eye Carrot stir-fried with pepper, cooked through until tender, its soft texture absolutely divine.

I'd mentioned it to Mother yesterday. Chef Go Jin-mook's trouble was his eyes, I'd told her, so how about feeding him dishes made with Clear Eye Carrots for a week? If the problem that weighed on him could be solved, wouldn't that be a wonderful thing?

Mother, a devoted longtime fan of the chef, had nodded so vigorously I thought her head might come off. Hence today's breakfast table.

I took a spoonful of rice, breathing in the fragrant aroma of the food. Incredible. Absolutely incredible. A wave of gratitude surged through me — gratitude that I could taste something like this.

Go Jin-mook started eating as well. He'd put in hard labor since dawn; he had every right to be hungry.

I kept my eyes fixed on the tip of his chopsticks.

His hand reached toward the potato and carrot stir-fry.

And then — he ate it.

"Hrrmmmgh...!"