The sun rose shyly that morning, filtering through the cracked glass roof of the greenhouse like a soft apology. The air smelled of damp soil, crushed herbs, and a hint of smoke from breakfast gone wrong. Again.
"Bongyu! Not the frying pan!" Hana yelped as the toddler proudly smacked the sizzling surface with a wooden spoon, sending scrambled eggs flying like shrapnel.
"Eggs are seeds!" Bongyu declared. "They grow chickens!"
Jaehyun groaned from his seat at the table, head buried in his arms.
"He's technically not wrong," he muttered, "but this is exactly why I'm never having kids."
Across the room, the old greenhouse bustled with small preparations — packing supplies, reinforcing travel pouches, counting the precious few healing potions they had.
The Green Kindergarten was leaving the farm for the first time, and everyone was pretending not to be terrified.
Outside, the once-barren wasteland now shimmered faintly with color. The farm — Jaehyun's farm — was alive.
Carrots lined the beds like orange bayonets, bok choy fanned out in plump rows, and that stubborn sunflower at the center had grown tall enough to touch the roof beam.
Jaehyun stepped out and looked over it all in silence.
Every leaf carried a memory — laughter, dirt fights, Kim Kitae's scolding voice telling him to stop using his watering can as a pillow. Even the air felt different here. Softer. Warmer. It hummed faintly with his aura.
He knelt and pressed a hand to the soil. The green glow responded immediately, wrapping around his fingers like old friends reluctant to let go.
"I'll come back," he said quietly. "Don't let the weeds take over while I'm gone."
Behind him, Hana's voice broke the mood."Sir, we have a problem with Bongyu."
Jaehyun turned — and froze.Bongyu was standing in the cabbage patch again, half-asleep, drooling contentedly on a giant leaf.
"He said he's 'helping them photosynthesize,'" Hana said, straight-faced.
Jaehyun pinched the bridge of his nose.
"He is photosynthesizing. Through laziness. My perfect successor."
As the morning went on, farewells were exchanged in that chaotic, heartwarming way unique to the Green Guild.
Old neighbors from nearby settlements came to see them off, bringing small offerings — a jar of honey, a cracked canteen, a bundle of withered herbs.
They weren't much, but the sentiment made Jaehyun's chest ache.
He'd never realized how much the farm had become a beacon for people — a tiny patch of hope in a starving world.
Minho and Yeonjin hadn't returned yet, off negotiating in another city. But a letter from Yeonjin had arrived that morning, sealed with her meticulous handwriting.
Take care of your father. Take care of the children. And please, for heaven's sake, eat something green that isn't fried.—Mom.*
Jaehyun snorted. "As if she's not the reason Dad runs from sunlight."
The others laughed, and for a moment, the heaviness lifted.
When it was finally time to go, Jaehyun stood at the gate, pack slung lazily over one shoulder.The others were already lined up — Hana adjusting Bongyu's cloak, a few new recruits shifting nervously under their too-big armor.
The air shimmered faintly as the expedition sigil activated, marking the start of their official journey.
He took one last look at the greenhouse.
The sunlight glinted off the tall sunflower, its petals open wide — as if saluting them goodbye. The soil pulsed softly beneath it, alive and breathing.
Jaehyun smiled, faint and wistful.
"Don't wait up," he said to the fields."But I promise — when I come back, I'll make you bloom for real."
Then, in his usual halfheartedly tone:
"Let's go, Green Kindergarten. Don't die before lunch."
The portal shimmered open before them, the gateway to the unknown.
And as they stepped through, the wind rippled across the farm — bending the sunflower's head gently, almost like a bow.