Ofrin Farm (3)
Jeron doubted his own eyes.
"It's definitely wheat seeds."
They were slightly thicker than rice grains and pale yellow in color.
Since Jeron was no expert, he couldn't tell for sure if it was the famous Ofrin wheat.
"And this was in the restroom?"
Jeron reached out and pulled the onion mesh bag out.
There was no telling how long it had been sleeping here, but it was in remarkably good condition.
Judging by how dry they were, they couldn't have been more than a year or two old.
Grain intended for seed is always thoroughly dried before storage.
"I finally found it!"
He had lost count of how many seed shops and farms he had ransacked since he started farming.
All Jeron had wanted was a single handful of seeds.
He didn't need much; even a single handful would be enough to transplant to the Karen Continent and gradually expand his fields.
The wheat in the onion bag seemed to weigh about a kilogram.
If he germinated and planted this, it would multiply dozens of times over in just a few months.
Back on the Karen Continent, they were currently fermenting human waste with straw.
Once the fertilizer was ready, double-cropping wheat would become possible, and production was bound to increase exponentially.
The infrastructure for mass production was already underway.
Digging waterways to draw water from Lake Baitan to the fields was part of that foundational work.
With the right water, fertilizer, and loess soil, the yield would be astronomical.
"This is the greatest triumph in my farming history."
Jeron barely managed to suppress the excitement bubbling up inside him.
This was Earth.
No matter how fortunate he was, he could not afford to forget that this was fundamentally a dangerous world.
Jeron decided to do a bit more farming.
The more, the better. If he searched thoroughly, wouldn't there be more wheat seeds?
After thoroughly searching the interior for about an hour, Jeron had to admit he was being greedy.
"Even this is a stroke of absolute luck."
He had searched every single nook and cranny.
He had even checked behind the frames in the breakroom and searched the floor for any hidden compartments.
But there was no way a wheat farm would have that kind of high-security facility.
Jeron carefully placed the onion bag into his backpack as if it were a sacred relic.
Still feeling a lingering sense of greed, he searched the backpacks of the dead.
As expected, there was nothing useful.
Just as Jeron was about to leave the breakroom, his foot brushed against a mummified corpse lying near the entrance.
He had passed it by without much thought earlier, but this mummy hadn't been killed by mutants. Judging by the hole in its head, it had likely been shot by another survivor.
A single boot on one foot, and cotton work gloves stuffed in the pocket.
Given the typical farmer's attire, he was probably an employee here.
A small pouch was strapped around his waist.
It was so old that the fabric was frayed and on the verge of tearing.
Inside, he found a notebook and a set of keys.
"A notebook and keys."
Flip, flip, flip.
Jeron casually flipped through the notebook.
It was filled with various cryptic notes.
• Daehan Fertilizer — Arriving at 12:30
• Daigen Trading Japan — XXX-XXXX
• Meeting with US Buyer
• JB Industries — By 17:30
"Is this a work log?"
It was hard to tell exactly what the employee's role had been.
There were also a few personal thoughts written in the notebook.
At first, the military stepped in, but they couldn't stop it. It seems public authority has collapsed entirely.
Am I going to die like this? I need to find a way out.
This might just be a useless jumble of words.
However, Jeron knew that notebooks and survivor diaries like this could often yield valuable information.
Since analyzing the notebook here on Earth would be a waste of time, he stuffed it into his backpack as well.
What about the keys?
There were three keys on the ring. Thinking there might be a hidden warehouse somewhere, he took them.
If they were useless, so be it, but what if he hit the jackpot?
The small pouch also contained ten 50,000-won bills and a bankbook.
Flip!
Jeron checked the last page of the bankbook.
For a farm employee to save a hundred million won through manual labor...
He must have been an incredibly diligent man.
He probably dreamed of a bright future, only for the world to suddenly end. No wonder he couldn't rest in peace even in death.
Jeron offered a silent prayer for the employee's soul and stepped outside.
Whoosh!
The wind blew even harder than before.
He considered heading back immediately, but decided to take one last look around the farm.
The entire farm was covered in piles of straw.
Weeds and wheat straw were tangled together.
However, the piles had been thoroughly ransacked.
When food runs out, even unrefined wheat is a precious source of sustenance. Hulling it is a problem for later.
There were barely any wheat ears left.
Only occasionally, like finding a needle in a haystack, would a single ear of wheat lie on the ground, and there was no telling if it could even germinate properly.
He had been incredibly lucky today in many ways.
Finding a kilogram of wheat seeds in the restroom was a stroke of fortune beyond compare.
If the wheat in that onion bag truly was the Ofrin strain, it would be a massive jackpot.
He would be able to sell wheat even to people with celiac disease.
Ofrin would become a luxury wheat. Even if he sold it at five times the price of regular wheat, demand would surely outstrip supply.
It would become a definitive specialty of his territory.
Since the potatoes were already growing well, this wheat could join them as a signature cash crop.
After picking up a few stray ears, Jeron decided to leave the wheat farm behind.
It would be foolish to get ambushed while wandering the fields just to scavenge a few more grains.
After all, he already had a whole kilogram of seeds safely tucked away in his backpack. There was no need to obsess over a few loose kernels.
Just as he had on his way here, Jeron carefully scanned his surroundings as he headed back.
At the entrance of the industrial complex, he showed his meticulous nature by climbing back up to a rooftop to scout the area.
Jeron made his way slowly back to Mr. Kang's hideout, navigating the alleys lined with traps.
Clack!
Only after closing all the doors and engaging the locks did he finally let his guard down.
Thud.
Jeron slumped to the floor.
As the tension drained away, the reality of today's events began to sink in.
A flurry of thoughts raced through his mind.
Once he started exporting the wheat, an immense amount of capital would flow in.
When that happened, wouldn't the neighboring territories resort to all kinds of political schemes to target him?
He needed to build a solid network of connections before the exports began.
He also had to amass personal power so that pests like Viscount Rebion wouldn't dare mess with him.
After resting for a bit, Jeron stood up.
His work for the day was not yet finished.
Opening the dimensional gate, he carefully began transporting the crossbows and traps.
Although he could now enter Earth once every two days, he had become much more selective about what he brought back to the Karen Continent.
He decided to transport the lighter blacksmithing equipment that Mr. Kang had requested back to the Karen Continent as well.
By the time he finished moving all the cargo, it was already 4:00 AM.
He thought about sleeping for an hour, but decided to just stay up.
Staying up all night had become a routine whenever he went farming on Earth.
Jeron's body was still young, and now that he possessed mana, sleeping in fits and starts didn't take much of a toll on him.
Jeron decided to spend the remaining time looking over the notebook he had scavenged from the Ofrin farm.
Who knew? There might be some useful information inside.
An emergency alert arrived. The military is struggling, and the police are completely helpless. The broadcasts are telling everyone to stay indoors. They say unidentified creatures have appeared and are being suppressed, but I have no idea what those things are. Are they aliens? Or monsters from another dimension? Whatever they are, I hope the government handles them quickly. They never hesitate to take our taxes, yet when the citizens are trembling in fear, their response is painfully slow. As a taxpayer, it makes my blood boil.
It seems public authority has been completely neutralized. Damn it. I was finally planning to move after saving up enough for a deposit... How are my wife and daughter doing? I want to go home as soon as possible, but I'm stuck here.
...I received a message from my daughter saying my wife is dead. Since then, there's been no reply. Communication is down, and monsters are roaming wildly outside. The world has collapsed, and my soul is torn to shreds. I feel myself sinking into a deep despair. Is there even any point in living anymore? Ah, my daughter Soyul. She is the only reason I am still breathing.
Amidst a mix of various notes, the farm employee had calmly recorded the events of the early days of the apocalypse.
But just because his writing was calm didn't mean his emotions were.
In particular, the word "exhausted" appeared in almost every paragraph of his diary-like scribbles, speaking volumes about the employee's state of mind.
He was likely in his forties and had worked at the Ofrin farm for about ten years. After graduating from an agricultural college, he had secured a job here, saved a decent amount of money, and eventually risen to a mid-level management position.
Just before the disaster struck, it seemed the Ofrin farm had been preparing for an expansion.
They had developed a wheat strain that bypassed celiac disease, so it was only natural that exports to various countries had been planned.
Fragmented pieces of information continued to connect.
I plan to head to the underground warehouse of Yujin Industries in Seosan with my daughter. We should be able to hold out safely there.
"Yujin Industries?"
It was a very common company name.
The kind of name you could find in almost any region.
The crucial part here was that this company, Yujin Industries, possessed an underground warehouse.
Connecting the dots from the notebook, this was the export company partnered with the farm.
Once the farm milled the wheat and ground it into fine flour, Yujin Industries would receive it and export it overseas.
Since wheat wasn't a staple food in Korea, they seemed to have focused heavily on exports.
According to the notebook, a substantial amount of export goods was likely stocked in the underground warehouse of Yujin Industries in downtown Seosan.
Whatever the man's position had been, he had even possessed the key to Yujin Industries' underground warehouse.
Looking further into the notebook, Yujin Industries wasn't just a partner; it was an affiliate company.
There were two Ofrin farms in Seosan alone, and the scale was quite large, with over fifteen locations nationwide.
Since it was a government-backed project, the business owner had pooled capital from various sources to run it as a joint-stock corporation.
The headquarters was in Seoul, and ten of the farms were concentrated in the Honam region, where agricultural land was abundant.
All the flour produced in Seosan was gathered and shipped out by Yujin Industries.
Upon closer inspection, Yujin Industries seemed to be an exporter that bundled other products along with the flour.
What if Yujin Industries' underground warehouse had remained unopened all this time?
That would be an absolute jackpot.
Jingle!
Jeron examined the keys he had found in the man's pouch.
• Underground Warehouse Key
• Apartment Key
• Farm Key
"Ha."
A soft chuckle escaped his lips.
The farm itself didn't have an underground cellar.
The cold storage at the farm was merely a temporary holding facility; all finished products were sent to downtown Seosan.
The only problem was that entering the city center was incredibly difficult.
"But it'll be possible someday. I really got lucky."
Why had this notebook remained untouched until now?
From Jeron's perspective, it was pure luck. In a ruined world, someone else's notebook was generally considered worthless junk not even worth scavenging.
Other scavengers had likely glanced at the notebook in the bag and decided to move on.
Since the keys had been tucked deep inside the pouch, it was nothing short of divine intervention.
Jeron felt his mouth go dry.
Grains could be preserved for a very long time. Furthermore, an underground warehouse would maintain a cool temperature even in the dead of summer.
If the facility had been equipped with solar panels and a power storage system, there was a chance the food was still perfectly intact.
What if, by some miracle, there were fully packaged finished products?
"I need to find a way to get into downtown Seosan."