Lucas froze in place, while the wife—just set down by the gallant female knight—ran in a panic toward her husband, who was humiliating himself for money.
Brughh...
The woman slipped and scrambled on all fours until she knelt right behind her husband, her face dangerously close to his wrinkled ass that was about to expose its "filthy yet honorable hole."
"No... NO..." she hissed, desperately pulling up his pants. "Don’t, my love, please don’t do this!!!" she cried, tears rolling down and dripping onto her husband’s crack.
Lucas twitched, his eye spasming in disgust.
The old man, however, stubbornly kept lowering his trousers. "This is for Anya! Let save her life! This filthy hole is nothing compared to her life... nothing compared to her future... hiks..." His nose ran, snot dangling dangerously before being sucked back up just in ti.
"The... fuck?" Lucas muttered, utterly confused. "Hole? For Anya? Her life? Her future?"
Silvara leapt forward, stepping between them, shielding the kneeling wife whose face was pressed against the crack, her hands clinging desperately to keep the trousers from falling.
"You bastard! Shaless being!!!" she shouted.
At that mont, Lucas lowered his head, sighing deeply. He gripped The Great Hoe tightly—the only thing that hadn’t misunderstood him. With a twist, he lightened its weight and raised it high.
Silvara gritted her teeth, hand on her sword. "You think you can beat ? I won’t let you defile this helpless old man!!!"
Lucas pointed the hoe at them, the iron blade aid like a spear toward the three creatures lost in misunderstanding.
"SHUT YOUR BITCH ASS UP!" His voice thundered. "Who the fuck wants to stab that stinky hole, huh?! Answer !!!" His eyes blazed red with fury. "OLD BASTARD!!!"
His jaw hardened like stone. To Silvara, he looked like a true demon—but then her mind faltered. Lucian wasn’t furious because she had stopped him from indulging in that wrinkled backside.
"Wait..." her hand slipped from the sword hilt. "So you weren’t trying to—"
She never finished. Lucas snapped, drenched in sweat under the blazing sun.
"TRYING TO WHAT, YOU SILVER-HEADED FOOL?! HUH?! I WAS JUST OFFERING HIM A JOB!!! If he doesn’t want it, then leave! Don’t get in my way, idiots!!!"
He stord past them, hoe on his shoulder.
"MOVE—BEFORE I PLOUGH YOUR HEADS INSTEAD!!!"
The three of them scrambled aside imdiately, pale and trembling.
[DING!]
[ 15 EXP, 3 Progression Points]
[Reason: Host defended his dignity with rage. Reputation slightly corrected.]
[ Who would’ve thought yelling about a stinky hole counts as progress?]
Lucas waved his hand as if brushing away the cheeky panel. Hhh... whatever. I’m done with this.
He stabbed The Great Hoe into the soil, adjusted its weight lighter, and began digging again. Sweat rolled down his back, the sting of strain on his muscles sohow far more reasonable than the drama earlier.
How many more holes do I need to make? he muttered, glancing at the rows of open ground.
The panel popped up again, shaless as ever.
[Total fast-growing Tomato seeds in the pouch: 60.]
Lucas eyed the furrows. Barely twenty holes were dug, a few already ready for planting.
This little... He gritted his teeth, hefting the hoe again. That ans another forty holes left. Tch... damn slave labor.
With one heavy swing, the ground split once more. The Great Hoe glinted beneath the midday sun as Lucas steadied his breath.
This is farming sim. Not ass-crack sim.
The panel blinked, flashing a playful emoji.
[ (＾▽＾)／ Keep it up, Host. If you finish planting everything, who knows—maybe there’ll be another reward~]
Annoying piece of crap... Lucas growled, but his hoe never stopped swinging.
Silvara stood a short distance away, her brow furrowed. Her heart was a tangled ss—just monts ago she had thought Lucas was about to disgrace himself, and now... everyone was kneeling.
The old man, who only minutes ago was ready to throw away his dignity, pressed his forehead into the dirt. "Forgive , Young Master! Please... grant work! I... I misunderstood... I beg you!"
His wife collapsed beside him, tears dripping into the freshly-dug soil. "We... we’re truly sorry! For Anya, our daughter... we’ll do any work, anything at all!"
Lucas let out a weary breath. His hands still gripped The Great Hoe, its swings splitting earth one after another, hole after hole. At first, he ignored them, letting their desperate pleas fall at his feet.
But then his ears caught the man’s faint whisper.
"We... we don’t want to get involved with the moneylenders. Young Master...."
The hoe froze mid-swing. Lucas’s jaw tightened. Slowly, he turned, his eyes sharp and cold. "Fine. Just work. Don’t talk so much."
The old man lifted his face, a smile spreading wide despite the sweat and dust clinging to his skin. "Th-thank you, Young Master!"
His wife wiped her tears, bowing deeply before finally standing. She murmured a farewell to her husband, leaving with a breath of relief.
Lucas pointed at the row of furrows. "Line your holes with the rest. Don’t make them crooked. I’m taking a break."
The man nodded again and again, snatching up the spare hoe and digging with fervor.
Silvara stepped closer, her eyes narrowed, lips curving into a mocking smirk. "Foolish man. You cause misunderstandings, make them kneel and beg for money."
Lucas turned his sweat-streaked face toward her, expression twisted with fatigue.
"Oh, forgive ... oh honorable silver-haired woman," he snapped. "I help them, while you? All you do is talk and accuse."
Thuk! Thuk!
The sound of the old man’s hoe striking the earth echoed, each blow like a mocking beat that underscored Lucas’s words—taunting Silvara with every strike.
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