Arknightcraft Modpack

The girl hadn’t expected Steven to respond this way. She had assumed he would at least make things a little difficult for them and had already prepared herself to pay some sort of price.

But to her surprise, Steven just let it slide and even invited them to stay for dinner? That level of friendliness didn’t quite match his current ominous appearance.

“See? I told you people who enjoy farming wouldn’t have bad personalities. And here we are,” said the elder cheerfully. Compared to the startled girl, he found it much easier to accept this turn of events.

Born and raised on this humble but honest land, he firmly believed that fellow farmers who shared a love for the soil couldn’t harbor ill intentions. Anyone with a malicious heart wouldn’t have the patience or dedication to grow potatoes as healthy as these. Such a feat required genuine effort and care.

If Steven had known what the old man was thinking, he might’ve found it ironic—after all, his own farming methods were as lazy as scattering seeds and letting them fend for themselves.

The elder straightened his posture, rubbing his hands together with a grin. From the moment he arrived outside Steven’s house, he had caught the tantalizing aroma of meat wafting from inside.

That smell—he knew it well. Back when his wife celebrated a milestone birthday, a hunter from the village had gifted her a small bowl of similarly fragrant meat soup. He hadn’t even gotten a taste back then, but the scent had lingered in his memory.

Now, however, the aroma coming from Steven’s house seemed even richer and more mouthwatering.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Steven said, noticing the girl’s confusion and mistrust. “I just think it’s not easy to brave the weather and come all the way here to apologize. Recognizing your mistake and taking responsibility is admirable. But make no mistake—this kind of thing shouldn’t happen again. If there’s one thing I hate, it’s people touching my things without permission.”

Shrugging, Steven gave her a straightforward explanation before turning back into his house. He ladled two bowls of leftover chicken soup from a cauldron and placed them in front of the pair.

“Drink up to warm yourselves. Now that we’re neighbors, I’ll likely have some questions for you later on.”

Steven left the bowls for them without insisting they drink. Whether they wanted it or not was up to them; as a host, he had already extended his courtesy.

“So, young man, you’re new to the area?” asked the elder, more at ease than the antlered girl beside him. Seeing the mushrooms he’d given Steven earlier in the soup, the old man felt reassured. After all, if Steven truly had ill intentions, he wouldn’t have used the mushrooms himself.

The more distrustful a person, the less likely they were to trust others.

Grabbing the bowl of warm soup, the elder brought it to his nose and took a deep whiff, savoring the rich aroma. Then, as if chatting casually with a neighbor, he continued the conversation.

“Something like that. I’m more of a traveler, really. Wandering from place to place. I only arrived here recently and didn’t know the area well, so I built a simple house to make do for now,” Steven explained with a nod.

He watched as the elder took just a small sip of the soup’s oily surface, then smiled contentedly. Pulling out a flask, the old man poured out its contents—plain water—before carefully transferring the rest of the soup into it.

“What are you doing?” Steven asked curiously.

“Oh, I’m saving it for my wife back home. She’s not in the best health, and in this cold weather, a bit of meat soup will do her good.”

The elder responded with a simple, earnest smile, exuding the kind of warmth and humility characteristic of those who had endured a life of hardship. His demeanor suggested he had a happy family.

“That’s thoughtful. By the way, it’s getting late. How about I walk you two home?” Steven offered. He didn’t mind how they handled the soup; his main concern now was finding out where their village was.

If there was a village nearby, he could trade for local specialties and supplies. Moreover, having locals around would make it much easier to locate the nearby mines he was looking for.

“Isn’t that a bit too much trouble for you, sir?”

The girl cast a helpless glance at the elder, who had already warmed up to Steven, seeing him as a good-natured neighbor. Unlike her companion, she couldn’t let her guard down so easily.

Steven’s friendliness seemed genuine, but his eccentric appearance made it hard for her to believe he didn’t have ulterior motives.

It wasn’t that the girl wanted to judge him by his looks, but Steven’s outlandish attire didn’t exactly inspire trust.

“It’s not really trouble. After all, we’re neighbors now. There’s bound to be some interaction between us. Knowing where the village is will make it easier for me to trade for things I might need, don’t you think?”

Steven could see what the girl was wary about, but he didn’t mind. Instead, he casually shared his genuine thoughts. Whether she believed him or not was up to her.

“Really? I’m actually quite curious about the type of potatoes you grow here. If it’s possible, would you be willing to trade some of the seeds for this variety?”

Hearing this, the elder beside her couldn’t stay quiet. This was what he had in mind when he took those actions earlier in the day. Now that Steven brought it up, he found it hard to contain his enthusiasm.

“That won’t work. These potatoes require a special technique of mine to grow. But if you’re truly interested, Grandpa, I wouldn’t mind trading baked potatoes as a cheap food item instead.”

Steven shook his head with a smile. While the two of them were polite enough, his potatoes weren’t something he’d casually give away. Even when he shared them with the Iberian Inquisition, it was to secure a national institution as his ally.

But baked potatoes? Those were just food and had no core secrets to steal. After all, cooked potatoes couldn’t be planted.

“Is that so…”

The elder, who had been excited moments ago, slumped in disappointment. Still, he understood. These potatoes were likely a rare breed, thriving even in this icy, extreme climate. They probably did require some unique methods to grow, just as Steven had claimed.

Since it involved the man’s secrets, the elder didn’t press the matter.

“In that case, we’ll take our leave now.”

He sighed with a hint of regret. It was clear the elder still had a lingering fondness for Steven’s potatoes, but in the end, he could only bid him farewell.

Trading a basket of mushrooms for a bowl of chicken soup—whether that was a fair trade or not, even the elder himself couldn’t figure out. What he could foresee, however, was being nagged about it by his wife tonight.

“Alright, I’ll walk you partway and take a look at the road to the village while I’m at it.”

Steven got up, shut his door, and naturally followed behind them.

As for the antlered girl, who hadn’t said much until now, she sighed, mimicked the elder, and carefully poured the remaining chicken soup into her flask. She then supported the old man as they headed back toward the village.

The idea of refusing Steven’s company crossed her mind but remained just that—a thought. Living in such a remote area, even if they refused, Steven would have no trouble finding the nearby village on his own.

Rather than antagonize him, it seemed wiser to lead him there directly.

Besides, the girl couldn’t sense any malice from Steven. Despite his peculiar outfit, he’d been amicable from the start.

Perhaps, as the elder had said, people who love farming are unlikely to be bad.

Once she came to this conclusion, the girl’s expression softened significantly. By nature cheerful and prone to laughter, she found it easier to open up and chat with Steven.

“By the way, I don’t think I’ve caught your name, sir. How should I address you?”

Supporting the elder, she looked at Steven’s back. He had moved ahead of them, blocking some of the evening’s chill wind and sand for them as they walked. She smiled and asked him her question.

“Just call me Steve.”

Steven’s response was simple, his tone casual. What he cared about more than introductions was their slow pace.

At this rate, it would take forever to reach their destination. If it weren’t for the sake of politeness, he’d much rather have them point out the village on a map and let him haul them there in a cart.

Simple and efficient.

“I see. Nice to meet you, Steve. I’m Alina,” the girl replied warmly, her smile brightening as she introduced herself.

Meanwhile, the elder squinted at Steven’s back, his face filled with curiosity.

From the start, he’d had a nagging suspicion. Was their new neighbor’s head… a bit too shiny?

Why did it seem brighter than the headlamp he used back when he worked at the mines?

And his head… didn’t it look a bit like a pumpkin?