Baron's Son with -9,999,999 Reputation Point-Chapter 133: To the field

Lucas let his back fall onto the soft mattress.

His body sank into layers of cool, smooth silk blankets—a pampering contrast after an entire day of muscular and mental tension.

He let out a long breath. A wisp of exhaustion slipped past his lips.

"Not even a month yet," he murmured softly into the silence of the room.

Time felt unbearably slow in this world. Every day was packed with negotiations, farming strategies, bandit threats, and complicated family drama. Tonight’s dinner had been the peak of it all. He could face an angry board of directors without blinking, but facing a mother asking, "How am I as a mother?"—that was a kind of battlefield no business school had ever prepared him for.

Ting.

A semi-transparent blue panel appeared right in front of his face, glowing faintly in the darkness of the room.

[ KING, ARE YOU OKAY? (o_O) ]

Lucas snorted, closing his eyes for a moment before reopening them with a lazy stare. "You’re noisy. I’m just tired."

[ DON’T OVERTHINK IT! ] 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝚠𝚎𝚋𝗻𝗼𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝚘𝐦

[ REMEMBER, THIS ISN’T PERMANENT!

( ˘ ³˘)♥ ]

The text blinked with an annoyingly cheerful font. Lucas went silent as he read it.

Ah. Right.

He had almost forgotten.

"Permanent..." he repeated softly.

In his original world, he was in a coma.

This world—Voss, magic, barons, tomatoes—was merely an intermission.

The guilt that had briefly settled in his chest when he saw the Baroness’s sad expression slowly evaporated, replaced by the cold rationality he usually wielded as a shield.

"That’s right," Lucas said.

[ THAT’S THE SPIRIT! THAT’S MY KING!

ᕙ(`▿´)ᕗ ]

[ COME ON, LET’S EXCHANGE SOME PROGRESSION POINT!! (⁠⊃⁠ ⁠•⁠ ⁠ʖ̫⁠ ⁠•⁠ ⁠)⁠⊃ ]

"Later. If the baron agrees to set up a farmers’ guild, then I’ll exchange all of that."

[ Alright then ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ ͡⁠°⁠ ͜⁠ʖ⁠ ͡⁠°⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

NOW SLEEP TIGHT, DON’T LET THE BED BUGS BITE! ☆ ]

Lucas ignored the panel as it slowly faded away. He pulled the blanket up to his chest, letting physical exhaustion take over his consciousness. Within minutes, his breathing became steady, carrying him away from the demanding reality of Voss.

Morning arrived with crisp, fresh air.

A horse-drawn carriage with an open roof rolled leisurely along the main road connecting the manor grounds to the farmland on the outskirts.

On the driver’s seat, Liona held the reins casually.

"Hm~ hmm~ hmmm~"

In the back, Lucas sat with his legs crossed.

Across from him sat Silvara.

The female knight sat upright, her sword neatly sheathed at her waist. Her sharp eyes remained fixed on Lucas with unrelenting curiosity.

"Hey!" Silvara finally called out, unable to endure the silence between them any longer.

Lucas turned slightly, his glasses reflecting Silvara’s face. "Hm?"

"How was last night’s dinner?" she asked. Her tone sounded casual, but there was urgency beneath it. As the protector of the Voss family, she cared deeply about the dynamics between the heir and the ruling couple. "I heard it got pretty... intense, to the point where the servants were asked to leave."

Lucas shifted his gaze back to the road ahead.

"It was normal," he replied flatly. "We ate. Drank tea. Then I slept."

Silvara blinked. Her mouth hung slightly open, waiting for a continuation that never came.

"That’s it?" she pressed.

"What else was supposed to happen?" Lucas countered innocently. "The meat was good. The Baroness was healthy. The Baron was healthy. End of story."

Silvara clenched her jaw, suppressing an irritated snort. Her hand unconsciously tightened around her sword’s scabbard.

At least make some small talk, Silvara thought irritably.

She turned her face away, choosing to look at the scenery outside the carriage instead.

Lucas, completely oblivious to Silvara’s annoyance, was busy observing their surroundings.

There was a change.

That was fast, He thought.

Before long, Silvara’s gaze drifted back to Lucas. Her eyes flicked to the man’s neck, then to the fingers of his left hand.

Lucas shifted his sitting position slightly. "If you’re going to stare," he said without turning around, "at least don’t do it like you’re interrogating a criminal."

Silvara stiffened. "Y-you’re still a stranger. It’s only natural for me to stay cautious..." Her face flushed slightly, her nose scrunching.

"Wow... how cruel. That’s a bit harsh for this early in the morning," Lucas replied with a soft chuckle. "It really reminds me of when we first met," he added.

"I-I... I’ve changed," Silvara whispered.

Lucas finally glanced at her. "Huh?"

"Th-then, do you... do you still want to train together or not?" Silvara pressed.

—Why did I even bring that up? That was completely off-topic, she scolded herself

Lucas turned his gaze forward again. "Once I’ve fully recovered, maybe we can train again." He smiled.

Silvara stared at his profile for a few seconds longer, then leaned back in her seat. Her right hand rested on the sword hilt.

"In that case, hurry up and get better," she said quietly. Her left hand rose toward her own face. "I want to beat you up!" She rubbed her nose.

Lucas only let out a small laugh.

"We’re almost there!" Liona called out from the front, breaking Lucas’s train of thought.

The carriage began to slow, turning onto a compacted dirt road leading into the tomato plantation.

The carriage came to a stop.

Lucas stepped down lightly, his shoes landing on fertile, loose soil.

"Young master!"

A high-pitched, energetic voice rang out. Anya came running toward them.

Behind her, Geralt stood while wiping sweat from his face with a small towel draped around his neck. The old man smiled broadly, the wrinkles on his face folding warmly.

"Good morning, Young Master," Geralt greeted in his deep, welcoming voice. "I’ve checked the irrigation area a bit already."

Beside Geralt stood Elin.

The atmosphere was warm, peaceful—an ideal rural scene.

However, Lucas’s attention wasn’t on the three of them.

His gaze was fixed on another figure standing awkwardly behind Geralt.

A man in ragged clothes, full of patches.

The limping man noticed Lucas’s stare.

Without warning, the man dropped his cane.

Thud.

He threw himself to the ground. His knees slammed into the soft earth, ignoring the pain.

The next moment, he bowed deeply, pressing his forehead to the soil before Lucas’s shoes.

A full prostration.

Silence instantly engulfed the tomato field. Liona covered her mouth in shock. Silvara let out a slow breath.

"Y-young master..." the man’s voice came out hoarse, muffled by the ground.