The Sprout Farmer Scholarship
“Pardon me.”
A large-framed man.
The moment Grandfather laid eyes on him, a gasp escaped his lips.
“Oh, my. Earlier, I was rushing out without looking where I was going... I'm terribly sorry.”
At Grandfather's apology, the man answered with a faint smile.
“Not at all. I was the one barging in, after all.”
So that explained where he'd vanished to during the height of the auction—he must have bumped into this man on his way out.
“What can I do for you?”
Only at my question did the man finally draw a business card from his breast pocket.
“A pleasure to meet you, Ji-on. I'm someone like this.”
[Songgye Nonghyup Branch Head — Park Byung-gyu]
“Th-the Branch Head?!”
Grandfather muttered, visibly flustered.
Park Byung-gyu, head of the agricultural cooperative, addressed me with a kindly smile.
“Your uncle went on and on about some truly remarkable sweet potatoes, so I came to see for myself. And remarkable they certainly are.”
Back when Uncle Park Chun-bae had first been heaping praise on the sweet potatoes, I hadn't thought much of it. Even today, I'd only come to watch, caving to his insistence that I show up and take a look.
But after witnessing the scene with my own eyes, my thinking had changed.
I have to hold on to this.
A minimum price of 100,000 won per potato.
Ordinary sweet potatoes would never have sent the villagers into such a frenzy.
Which meant everything Uncle had said about their effects was true.
And on top of that, the supply was limited. The quantity was far too small to launch as a product just yet—but with crops, yields grow given the right conditions. And what if he were the one to create those conditions?
If our cooperative became the very first in the nation to sell sweet potatoes with special properties...!
I must win this boy over!
Having made up his mind, Park Byung-gyu extended his hand.
“I thoroughly enjoyed your sweet potato auction today. It left quite an impression on me. Especially your quick thinking, and the potatoes' effects themselves.”
“...Thank you.”
I regarded Park Byung-gyu with a suspicious squint.
Reading my expression, he wore an odd little smile and spoke up.
“So here's the thing, Ji-on. Would you perhaps be interested in a scholarship? We have a program called the Sprout Farmer Scholarship, you see.”
A scholarship?
He was offering me money.
And so abruptly, no less.
What was the catch?
When you needed to size someone up, there was a handy technique for it: a slightly obnoxious tone of voice and exaggerated gestures. It made it far easier to draw out a person's true motives—especially when they were dealing with someone young.
I crossed my arms, cocked a hip, and asked Park Byung-gyu point-blank.
“How much are we talking?”
“Hmm? Haha. How much, you ask... The plan is one million won per person, per year.”
One million won.
That was money I could earn in two weeks, if the sweet potatoes sold well.
“Not interested.”
A clean refusal.
Flustered, Park Byung-gyu asked back,
“Why not?”
Was the amount too small?
But that was the current ceiling on what the cooperative could offer a single student.
Or had my sudden appearance made me seem shady?
It was hardly strange to be wary of outsiders. Then again, a cooperative branch head should have been an extremely trustworthy figure.
No matter how quickly Park Byung-gyu turned the question over, he couldn't figure it out.
“Why on earth would you not need a scholarship?”
The questions came pouring out of him.
But I was the one with questions.
Why was he so desperate to hand out this scholarship?
Ah—could it be that?
The thing I'd missed out on time and again in my past life. The thing that left me pounding the ground in regret, never having seen it coming!
That's right—the Signal.
He'd found my sweet potato auction impressive and wanted to build a connection, but had no pretext to do so. So he'd try to reel me in with a scholarship instead—that was almost certainly his thinking.
In that case, why not counter with something other than a scholarship?
“You said my auction left an impression on you.”
“That's right! Which is exactly why I recommended you for the scholarship supporting young farmers.”
“As I said, I don't need a scholarship. But there is something I've been wrestling with...”
“...Something you're wrestling with?”
“Good heavens! What is all this money?”
Late that evening, Mother came home from work, spotted the envelope on the table, and nearly fainted.
A swell of pride rising from deep in my chest!
This reaction right here was why I'd stayed up waiting for her.
“It's the money I made selling sweet potatoes today.”
“Oh, that's right—you mentioned there was an auction today.”
Mother already knew all about the potatoes' effects. Just last night, she'd eaten the piping-hot sweet potatoes I'd steamed for her when she got home from work.
She'd said the swelling in her legs had vanished in an instant, and her whole body felt lighter.
“The response seems to have been... quite good, I take it.”
Mother murmured as she took in the enormous wad of banknotes inside the envelope, a strange look on her face.
1.3 million won.
Certainly no small sum.
“I left it there for you, Mother.”
“You're giving it to me?”
A puzzled question came back at me.
“Why?”
“...Pardon?”
“Why would you hand over money you worked so hard to earn?”
An unexpected question.
I'd assumed she'd happily take it—who would have guessed she'd ask me that?
If pressed for a reason, there was exactly one.
Because I could see, plain as day, how hard Mother worked.
I might not be her true son, but I was living in her son's body, borrowing it as my own. Surely that meant I owed her the duty of a filial child?
In other words, helping Mother suffer less was simply the natural thing for me to do.
Mother's voice turned firm.
“Money that only comes around once or twice a year—you can't just blow it all in one place. You need to save some, and keep some on hand for emergencies.”
Ah, I see.
From her perspective, I was handing over money that came in, at best, once or twice a year, and she thought it belonged to me.
“Mother.”
“What is it? Was that too harsh—”
“No, not that. The sweet potatoes.”
“What about them?”
“They regrow every two weeks. Ten of them, off a single root.”
For a moment, Mother's soul seemed to leave her body.
“Two weeks? Fourteen days?”
“Yes. And today's auction only sold ten.”
“Why? How? Wha—?”
“Yes?”
“I—er—so that money was just... two weeks' worth of income?”
Selling only within the village would never rake in that much, but that was a problem to be solved by steadily expanding the area where we sold.
And it looked like that problem would be solved easily enough.
Park Byung-gyu, was it?
The cooperative—the place that held everything from sourcing farming materials to distribution. And as its branch head, he'd presumably wield considerable authority.
I recalled our earlier conversation.
“I'm farming on my grandfather's field, you see. The trouble is, expanding it just isn't possible—that's my biggest headache.”
“If that's the problem, it's easily solved!”
I hadn't expected him to leap at the chance to lend me idle land owned by the cooperative the moment he heard my worry.
Apparently, around 330 square meters was within his power to lease. He even offered to handle the matter of my being a minor—which barred me from being a party to a contract myself.
So the land to grow more sweet potatoes was secured.
The key now was inscribing every last bit of the leased land as Mana Land.
...Which, in the end, came back to the matter of my mana circuits.
Reaching the 1st Circle as quickly as possible was the best move.
I'd have to extend my running time and set aside more time for meditation starting tomorrow.
While I sat lost in thought, Grandfather shouted out.
“Ji-on, you rascal! You've got to tell your mother about that too!”
“That thing? Oh, right.”
I'd nearly forgotten, if not for Grandfather.
“Mother, they're saying I'll be receiving a scholarship.”
He'd told me the land lease would be bundled in with the scholarship, and to please, please accept it.
Well, there was no reason to turn down money someone insisted on giving me.
At my words, Mother nearly jumped out of her skin.
“A scholarship! Wh-where from?”
“From the cooperative. They came by during the auction today and said they'd follow the proper procedures and get in touch.”
“......”
My son—a scholarship student?
Proof that, even in his teens, he'd been recognized for excellence in some field. And he was receiving that proof, a scholarship?
After holding her breath until her face turned red, Mother retreated into her room—and then, through the closed door, a tremendous shriek rang out.
“KYYYAAAAAH!!”
...My ears stung.
Even with the door shut, it drilled straight into my eardrums.
Grandfather, startled too, stared blankly at the door.
“At this rate, she could give those named monsters from the labyrinth at the border a run for their...”
No, that's not the point.
Checking on Mother came first.
“Mother, are you all right?”
“Ahem, ho-ho. It's nothing. I'm quite fine.”
A perfectly gentle voice came back, as if the shriek had never happened.
Such a rapid pivot—apparently, Mother was no ordinary woman either.
Click.
Mother opened the door again, her expression suggesting she'd just remembered something.
“So—when, where, and how exactly does one receive this scholarship?”
A week remained until the scholarship ceremony.
Enough time to plant sweet potatoes and see them through to harvest.
As luck would have it, the land I was to lease sat close to our house.
Officially, use would begin alongside the scholarship, but I'd already been granted permission to work it ahead of time.
Idle land was a waste, after all.
“Hnngh—!”
Crackle, crunch.
A clump of weeds came ripping out of the soil.
Their roots ran so deep that brute strength alone wouldn't budge them—I'd had to wrap myself in mana.
I wasn't at the 1st Circle yet, but my mana circuits had grown substantially, which made it possible.
These days I could channel mana through my body for temporary physical reinforcement. And as my circuits grew, the area of Mana Land I could inscribe had expanded along with them.
Enough, say, to cover all 330 square meters of my leased plot.
Of course, maintaining it demanded a genuinely taxing amount of mana.
So I'd stretched out my Mana Breathing and meditation time. Three full hours a day now went, without fail, into handling mana.
Any day now, I feel like I'll reach the threshold of the 1st Circle.
Skrrtch—
No time for idle thoughts. What mattered was action.
I set to pulling weeds again.
Once this land was cleared and planted, the harvest would swell considerably—enough to sustain regular sales.
“All that's left is delivering to the cooperative.”
The problem was that clearing all this would take forever.
Grandfather had promised to help, but he had his own fields to tend, so he could only spare so much.
Hours and hours, all alone...
When every last chore—from ripping out weeds to tilling the beds—could be solved in an instant with magic!
“I really do need magic.”
I set down my tools and folded myself cross-legged onto the ground.
First, an objective assessment of my condition.
Mana circuits: substantially grown.
Physical readiness to form a mana circle: complete, thanks to the sweet potatoes.
“Let's just make it, then. The 1st Circle.”
Even if it took a shortcut.
The 1st Circle!
“Whew—”
A shortcut to forming a circle?
Simple.
Overeat.
All I had to do was gorge myself on mana.
I began to absorb mana as though devouring every mote that touched my skin.
Everything—every last thread of mana in the vicinity, I drew it all toward me.
With that devouring hunger, I inhaled. Then exhaled.
Compress the absorbed energy.
Just a little more, more...!
...I can feel it!