The Verdant Merchant

Rowen moved through the planted space carefully, plucking the remaining apples one by one. The trees had matured faster than he could have imagined. Fifteen of them stood tall now, each bearing five to six apples. By the time he finished, Rowen had nearly eighty-five fruits in total, a number that made his chest tighten with excitement.

The blue screen had already confirmed the fruit cycle: new apples would appear every six hours. If that rhythm held, his supply would never run dry.

His thoughts drifted back to the teachers who had visited his shop. They each carried storage rings, small but priceless artifacts that let them store huge loads with a flick of the wrist. If he had one, all these apples could be taken out instantly. Instead, he was stuck keeping them here in the wooden shade, only able to carry out small batches at a time.

Then another responsibility tugged at his mind. This space needed mana to remain stable. He remembered the earlier instructions; it had to be recharged four times a day. Reaching into his pouch, Rowen pulled out the remaining supply.

"Twelve low-grade stones," he muttered, counting them carefully. He handed the bundle to Fern. "Use these to recharge the space."

Fern nodded, clutching the stones. Without hesitation, he swallowed all twelve one after another.

After that, with nothing to do in space, Rowen stepped out of the portal first, finding himself back in his room.

Rowen stepped down into the shop, his movements steady but a little sluggish from the long night. Once inside, he summoned the portal again. With practiced care, he carried out crates of fresh tomatoes, firm potatoes, and the new apples. One by one, he stacked them neatly onto the empty wooden shelves until the shop looked ready for the day.

When he was done, Rowen pulled out his phone and glanced at the screen. Almost 9:00 a.m. It was time to open.

But there was one more thing to settle.

He looked at the apples on display. Glossy red, faintly pulsing with vitality, they weren't like normal fruit. These could close wounds and restore stamina. If he underpriced them, he would be giving away treasure. If he charged too much, customers might hesitate.

After a moment of thought, Rowen took a wooden signboard and wrote in clear strokes:

Apple – 1 Low-Grade Mana Stone Each.

He set the sign in front of the display.

"That should do," he murmured. It was fair—cheap enough for adventurers and porters to afford, but still high enough to reflect the fruit's value.

With that decided, Rowen moved to the front and unlatched the door.

Just like yesterday, a crowd had already gathered outside. This time, though, things were different. The customers who had been here before knew how valuable his goods were. They were already forming a neat line, keeping order among themselves.

As soon as they stepped inside and saw the apples, a wave of excitement spread through the crowd. Murmurs rose quickly.

"New product?" "Apples? Since when does he sell apples?" "They look fresh… but if it's from his shop, then they must be special."

Everyone's eyes were locked on the red fruits gleaming from the shelf.

The first few customers stepped forward without hesitation. They had bought Rowen's tomatoes and potatoes before, and they knew better than to doubt his stock. When they saw the sign "1 Low-Grade Mana Stone per Apple," their eyes widened, but no one argued.

"That price… he's not joking," someone whispered. "If it's anything like his tomatoes, it's worth it."

A burly porter at the front of the line slapped a mana stone on the counter. "One apple."

Rowen passed it to him calmly. The man bit into it on the spot, juice running down his chin. His eyes went wide as the faint scars on his forearm knit together right before everyone's eyes.

The room fell silent. Then the whispering exploded.

"Heal?" "It heals!" "Stamina, too look at him! He doesn't look half as tired anymore!"

Rowen kept his face steady, though his chest tightened. This was exactly what he had hoped for. The apples weren't just food; they were resources people in this town desperately needed.

The line moved faster now. Mana stones clinked against the counter as people scrambled to buy. Even those who had come just to browse couldn't resist once they saw the effects firsthand.

Shade hopped up onto the counter beside Rowen, tail flicking as if guarding the apples, while Fern leaned against the shelves, watching the chaos with quiet satisfaction.

For Rowen, this was more than a good morning. It was the beginning of something bigger.

"Only one apple per person," Rowen said firmly as the line pressed forward.

Some customers tried to argue, holding out extra mana stones. "Just sell me two. I'll pay double."

Rowen didn't flinch. "two apples. That's the rule."

The refusal was blunt, without any room for negotiation. A few people scowled but kept their tempers in check. Everyone knew how strict Rowen could be. If he banned them from the shop, they would lose access to everything: tomatoes, potatoes, and now the apples. None of them wanted to risk that.

Others in the line backed Rowen up, muttering for the greedy ones to move along. "Don't hold it up for the rest of us. We want to buy too."

With that pressure, the complaints died down quickly. The shop stayed tense for a moment, but the order returned. One by one, the apples were sold off along with the tomatoes and potatoes.

By the time the last customer walked out, the wooden shelves stood empty.

Rowen leaned back against the counter, letting out a quiet breath. Shade hopped down to curl at his feet, while Fern gave a small nod as if to say the morning had gone well.

Looking at the clock, Rowen made up his mind. The harvest from his planted space was good enough that he could stock twice a day. But running the shop nonstop wasn't an option.

"Morning and afternoon," he said to himself. "That's enough."

He stepped outside to tell the people still lingering nearby, "Come back after three. I'll open again then."

Some groaned, but most accepted it. They had already seen his shelves clear out; arguing would do nothing. Slowly, the crowd scattered, leaving Rowen with a rare stretch of quiet.