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.

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.

The moment the bag disappeared, he felt it the heavy, constant strain of carrying the bag was gone. No strap digging into his shoulder, no shifting weight at his side. For the first time in days, he walked freely, almost as if he had been carrying nothing at all.

A small smile tugged at his lips.

After the purchase, he counted in his mind. With the storage ring secured, he now had around seventy-seven low-grade mana stones remaining outside the ring. Enough for small experiments or purchases.

Shade padded beside him, tail flicking as if sharing in his quiet triumph. Rowen let out a small chuckle. Today had been a good day.

With a small, satisfied smile, he stepped out of Arcane Craft. The bustle of the upper district surrounded him again, with merchants calling out, students hurrying by, and the occasional shimmer of enchantment from nearby shops.

After walking a short distance, Rowen paused and thought for a moment. He didn't want to handle payments offline anymore too risky, too cumbersome. An online transaction system for his shop would make everything simpler.

He knew that in the border town, most people hadn't even heard of the Federal Bank. Some had, but didn't have enough low-grade mana stones to open an account. His own shop, tucked away in the border town, had started small, but word of his magical vegetables and fruits had spread.

Now, with the shop growing more popular, especially with customers coming from the upper district, he realized something. If his produce could help border town residents earn more income, eventually they too might be able to open accounts.

After thinking it through, Rowen made up his mind. He would open an account as a merchant. It was a practical step, and one that would make his business smoother while helping him stay ahead.

Rowen glanced around, spotting a few well-dressed passersby. "Excuse me," he asked, "which way is the Federal Bank?"

A young man pointed to the street. "Just near the Cornerstone building."

"Thanks," Rowen said, nodding.

With the directions clear, he set off again, Shade trotting faithfully at his side. The street narrowed slightly as they approached the upper district's administrative area, the hum of the busy marketplace fading into the more official, orderly atmosphere. Soon, the familiar spire of the Cornerstone building came into view, and just beyond it, the Federal Bank's six- to seven-story building façade gleamed in the afternoon sun.

As Rowen approached, he slowed his pace. The Federal Bank stood in sharp contrast to the rough-cut stone and timber of the border town. Its walls were smooth, pale marble, with gold inlays forming the federal crest above the wide entrance. Two guards in polished armor flanked the doors, their stances relaxed but authoritative.

Rowen tilted his head back slightly, taking it all in. Compared to the crooked rooftops and worn cobbles of his own district, this place radiated wealth and order. Even Shade gave a soft "mrrp," tail swishing as if sensing the difference.

For a moment, Rowen felt the distance between his small shop and this grand façade, but then he straightened. He had a reason to be here now.

Rowen stepped toward the tall doors, but before he could pass through, a guard shifted his spear across the entrance.

"Hold it."

Rowen blinked, glancing up.

The guard's eyes narrowed as he looked him over from head to toe the plain clothes, the faint dust from travel, and the lack of refinement that marked most who came from the lower town. His mouth twisted in faint disdain.

"This is the Federal Bank," the guard said flatly. "It's not a place for loitering. Opening an account here requires a considerable sum; you don't look like someone who can afford it."

Shade let out a soft growl at the man's tone, puffing slightly.