~Chapter 3~

Of course, effort alone wasn’t enough. You also needed skill and knowledge.

Pretty fruit eats a lot of fertilizer. You have to bag them so bugs can’t bite, and raise them like your own child.

It isn’t good just to have many fruits on the branch. To make beautiful, high-quality apples, you must boldly leave only the promising ones.

I’m sorry, little ones! Sacrifice for the greater good!

With tears in my eyes, I thinned the small apples.

After all that care, the apples on my tree turned out bright red, glossy, and round. Most of all, they were huge—nothing like the ones other people sold.

They were my apples.

Ah, I’m shaking.

I picked one as a test and wiped it with my sleeve. The shine came out, and the vivid red showed—just like my hair.

Color, pass. Smell, pass.

Now, the taste.

My hands trembled as I tried to take a bite. There weren’t many fruits, so I was nervous.

I hesitated, then slowly opened my mouth and bit in.

Crunch!

Juice burst so loudly anyone could hear it.

A fresh tang and sweet flavor spread in perfect balance the moment it touched my tongue.

Truly—delicious.

Sob, I did it.

While the juice circled my mouth, it felt like the year of devotion I poured into this pretty child was paying me back.

I was moved, but for the villagers—who’d only ever seen small, misshapen apples—this was a revolution. They stared wide-eyed and shouted:

“How can an apple be so pretty and so big!”

“I’ve never seen an apple this huge!”

“We should offer something this fine to the lord!”

At that, my face crumpled.

The lord? Why bring the lord into this?

I’m not an anarchist or anything, but the irritation rose automatically.

What did the lord ever do for me that I should “offer” anything?

While I was dumped by my fiancé, came here empty-handed, dug sweet potatoes, and raised apples, what exactly did the ruler of this land do?

No way. I won’t give it. This is my apple!

I didn’t say I’d offer anything, but the villagers dragged me to the lord anyway.

Ugh, busybodies. Of course they wake up only at times like this.

Honestly, they were almost like accomplices, so I glared at them on the way.

I followed mostly to see what kind of person this lord was—never guessing it would change my life.

Contrary to my image, the lord was an elderly woman. When she saw the apple in my arms, her eyes went round.

“That huge thing is an apple? How did you do it? It’s like magic.”

Seeing her genuine surprise, my twisted mood gently untied. I shrugged and said,

“I’m a genius farmer.”

For a first harvest, it truly was excellent. I was proud.

Look at my apple. Pretty, right? Perfect, right? Don’t you just want to call me a genius?

Then the old lady’s face suddenly wrinkled.

“Genius farmer? Aren’t you the Duke Pond’s young lady?”

“…You knew me?”

“Of course. How could I not? I kept receiving reports that you were doing well. I assumed they were lies.”

“Heh.”

I’d have thought the same—who would believe a fallen duke’s daughter actually farms?

You probably thought I was just hiring people with money, huh?

Well, that guess was wrong! I truly farmed with my own hands.

Since she already knew I’d once been a duke’s daughter, there was no need to act humble. I spoke clearly:

“One gold.”

“…One gold? You want money for it?”

“Isn’t that natural?”

I suffered so much to grow this—why would I put it in someone else’s mouth for free?

I’d done my absolute best; that’s why I could stand tall now.

“I raised this like my own child, so I should be paid. This year’s yield is only twenty apples, so they’re even rarer.”

“There are twenty more like this?!”

She had been shocked I wanted money; now she almost leapt up at “twenty.”

She narrowed her eyes and asked:

“Haven’t you thought that if you gift this to me, you might receive a reward greater than one gold?”

“I don’t gamble.”

My life motto: don’t trade certain nuts for maybe-nuts. I don’t like bets where I might gain ten or get nothing.

“Ho ho ho, bold young lady.”

She laughed heartily.

“So different from the rumors! Honestly, I thought you’d be banging on my castle gate in tears within a week.”

“Hahaha.”

But I survived on my own—for three years!

I laughed brightly. Her sharp eyes softened.

She sat again and asked in a relaxed voice,

“Can you grow other fruits?”

“Of course. My peaches are so sweet and soft the flesh pops lightly in your mouth.”

I saw her throat move as she swallowed. I didn’t mention peaches by accident. For elders with weak teeth, peaches are perfect.

Well? Soft peaches—tempted? Want some?

After a moment of struggle, the lord took the bait. In a solemn tone, she said,

“I will hire you as my castle gardener. Grow fruit trees in my estate garden.”

A normal person might have thrown themselves on the floor in gratitude, but I shook my head.

“I don’t take subcontracts.”

“What?”

Subcontracts are trouble anywhere. In a subcontract chain, someone sits at the top and eats money.

I looked straight at the lord and said,

“It’s better profit to grow and sell myself than take a salary. Why would I choose less?”

She propped her chin, intrigued.

“Then how will you grow it? I know the Duke of Pond has cut you off completely—there’s no one to rely on.”

You could tell that from my shabby look. Still, I trusted my skill. I answered firmly:

“Invest in me.”

“What a daring girl.”

She smiled with her wrinkled eyes. Sensing my proposal was more than half accepted, I added:

“And please protect me. People without backing get in trouble when they start having money.”

“Naturally.”

She nodded readily and ordered her aide:

“Give the young lady everything she asked for. And go to her house to pick up her apples—leave not a single one.”

I received twenty gold coins from the lord and sold all the apples. The next year I grew very sweet peaches, and she bought every last one for a very high price.

She bragged about the huge apples and peaches to neighboring lords, and soon patrons and buyers flooded in.

I evolved from a regular farmer to a large-scale grower. I bought land properly, hired workers, and raised chickens and pigs.

Ahh, being transmigrated was worth it.

Isn’t this a successful life?

Of course, the mischievous lord sometimes tossed me questions like these:

“That David you kicked away got married, you know. Aren’t you curious about what happened after?”

“No, not at all.”

“…If he hadn’t changed his mind, you would have been queen. Truly not curious?”

“No.”

I wasn’t pretending. I truly wasn’t curious. Even in Princess Maker, if you max stamina you can become a farmer. Not everyone needs to be a princess or a queen.

People should live doing what they’re good at.

My mom hated that I farmed, but I loved it. Not for any grand reason—just because farming never betrays your effort.

The more care I give, the more the trees and soil return beautiful results.

And those results stretched out before me as a wide farm.

I’m satisfied. This is the best.

But just when it looked like my second life would end as a happy large-scale farmer, dark clouds gathered—right after I harvested this year’s apples.

After that, I became the lord’s close friend, and no one in the village dared touch me—the lord’s favorite.

Try it and see. Everyone works at my orchards.

I had become a new power in the territory.

What new crop should I try today?

Hands behind my back, I walked the borders of my land. Then something caught my eye.

It was covered with yellow-brown rust and looked terribly worn out, but it still made my eyes widen.

An L-shaped tool—one sharp, straight line and a clean curve!

A hoe!

“Goodness! How is something this precious here?!”

Since coming to this world, the thing I missed most was a Korean-style hand hoe. People here used garden trowels instead. But a hoe is so much easier!