The breeze in Riku's room was perfect.
Riku lay on his futon, arms behind his head, eyes half-lidded as the fan above rotated slowly. The air it pushed across his face was crisp and cool, carrying the scent of distant flowers and sun-warmed wood.
The glow from the electric bulb beside the bed cast a soft amber hue across the room. A small tray with matcha and a half-bitten mochi bun rested on the low table nearby.
For the first time in what felt like a lifetime — across two worlds, even — Riku was genuinely comfortable.
No alarms. No reports. No phone calls to worry about. Just a spinning fan and silence.
Of course, he wasn't entirely idle.
He pulled a small folded cloth from the nearby chest, unwrapped it, and laid out the items he'd received from Rennan: seed pouches labeled in messy ink — wheat, onion, green bean, garlic, and most importantly, a small satchel of dried coffee berries.
"Coffee," he whispered reverently. "If this works out, I'll build a shrine."
Next to the seeds sat coils of copper wire, a small jar of sugar crystals, and a palm-sized rock of coarse salt.
Turbines: He had the materials for two more, though they'd be smaller than his prototype.
Bread: If he could get yeast production going, he could make soft, crusty loaves — and even sandwiches once veggies grew.
He sat up and stretched.
"Alright. Let's go to the fields first and observe the progress."
The fields behind the village basked in early morning light as Riku walked out, basket in hand.
The villagers waved as they worked, weeding the rows, piling fresh compost, or gently watering the sprouting rice shoots. The well had become a living miracle — the centerpiece of daily life.
Riku approached the southern patch — the rice beds he'd helped till just over a week ago.
Tiny green shoots swayed in the morning breeze.
"Already?" he murmured, kneeling down.
[System Notification]
Rice Sprouting Progress: 27%
Expected Harvest: 8 Days
Riku smiled. In-game, crops always grew in 10 to 12 days with good soil, rain, and skill buffs. This was no different — just a slightly more immersive interface.
He pulled out the other seeds he had — wheat, beans, onions — and began spacing them into new rows. Villagers watched with interest, some joining in, copying the spacing and watering technique he demonstrated.
It was slow, calming work.
The kind of work that didn't need a sword or a strategy — just care and time.
As he returned to the inn for lunch, he asked the system to show him all the notifications he had missed.
[You have gained +10 Goodwill Points]
Reason: Applied Return Scroll Formation to protect an allied merchant.
[Passive Goodwill Gain: Ongoing]
Current Goodwill points: 50 Points
Notes: Passive goodwill continues to accumulate from well usage, healing formation resonance, and community impact.
"Fifty, huh?" Riku mused. "Not bad."
[System Message – New Shop Tier Unlocked]
You may now purchase foundational production methods for food-based ingredients.
Note: These will not be free.
Cost: 50 Goodwill Points per ingredient pack (includes blueprint + seed or starter sample).
"Wait. So I can't buy oil directly?"
This system does not produce pre-made items outside of direct deeds or relic triggers.
You must either grow the ingredients or process them through village-scale setups.
[Unavailable. Requires regional unlock. Source trees not present within 40 km.]
"Oof. So I can't make real curry yet..."
[Not unless you wish to hike 3 days toward the southeast jungle biome.]
Riku sighed and flopped back on the futon. The fan continued spinning above him, unaware of the culinary tragedy unfolding below.
"Fine," he muttered. "Let's start small."
He opened the system shop and selected the Yeast Production Starter Pack.
[Purchase for 50 Goodwill Points?]
Includes: Brewing Methodology Blueprint, Initial Wild Yeast Jar, and Flour Fermentation Sheet.
With a shimmer of light, a scroll, a glass jar, and a folded parchment appeared beside him.
Riku picked up the jar — a cloudy, bubbling substance that smelled slightly sour and sweet.
"...Hello, my future bread."
[Reminder: If neglected, the yeast will die. Feed it flour and water daily.]
"You sound like a pet," Riku muttered.
[Technically, it is a living culture.]
"Great. I'm a yeast farmer now."
But despite the teasing tone, he couldn't stop the grin that spread across his face.
By nightfall, the inn's kitchen table had been converted into a makeshift lab: his wild yeast starter resting under a cloth, a new turbine blueprint half-unrolled, and a second fan frame half-built from repurposed crate wood and copper wire.
The fan spun above him. The yeast bubbled beside him. And the village hummed with quiet joy outside his window.
Riku stretched again.
"A peaceful life... with bread incoming."
Time moved gently in Elowen.
Over the next few days, the rhythm of the village became something almost melodic — a dance of buckets and brooms, of soft footfalls between rows of growing crops and laughter echoing around the inn's porch.
And then, it happened.
On the eighth morning since the first shoots appeared, the golden sheen of ripe rice stalks swayed under the morning sun like a sea of treasure.
The fields behind the village shimmered.
"Looks like it's time," Riku muttered, standing at the edge of the field with his sleeves rolled up.
With the help of the villagers, he began harvesting — scythes slicing through grain-laden stalks, baskets filling up, and thick bundles stacked beneath makeshift tarps. The rice was carefully separated from the chaff using old wooden threshers and newly constructed winnowing frames Riku had guided them to build.
Nearby, another group worked at the wheat patch. The stalks were already dry and crackling, making them perfect for milling. Chief Barou brought out a long-unused millstone from the storage shed — cleaned, oiled, and repurposed — and within hours, the village had its first sacks of fresh, finely ground flour.
"Great! Looks like finally everyone in the village will have enough to eat." Barou said as he looked at the villagers working, his face filled with happiness.