“I’m going to live on this farm!” Hazel cried desperately.

Looking somewhat troubled, Carl interjected, “This young lady needs to keep farming. She’s a natural at it.”

The baron stared incredulously at him. Then he shook his head and flatly said, “This child is the only heir to the House of Mayfield.”

At that moment, Hazel realized that everything was over. She couldn’t believe she would have to leave this beautiful farm. To an eight-year-old girl, it was much too great a sorrow, and she felt like the sun had gone into hiding forever, plunging her entire world into darkness.

Her feet stayed rooted to the ground as she looked back. Belmonte was just too far away from her grandfather’s house. This would probably be her last time here. Hazel willed herself not to cry. Though she had only spent half a year here, she was already a farmer to the core.

“Uncle Carl, Aunt Martha, Emily, Belle, Noel... Goodbye.”

She held up the hem of her skirt and bent her knees in a dignified curtsy. The people of Belmonte were not the type to get sentimental over goodbyes. Instead, they gave her an enormous basket—one seemingly as big as their hearts.

The carriage took off, and Hazel leaned out of the window to see Carl, Martha, Emily, Belle, and Noel standing there waving her off as the farm behind them grew smaller and smaller. She understood that just as the white blossoms in Marronnier Forest eventually died, and everything shriveled and surrendered to the thick blanket of snow, her time with the Martins had to come to an end—no matter how miserable it made her.

However, it did leave her with one thing: a dream.

Hazel resolved to herself that one day, she would have a farm of her own. A farm just like this one.

* * *

Flowers blossomed and died along with the passing of the seasons. The little girl who had fought back her tears as she left Belmonte Farm eleven years ago was no longer so little.

In the city of Rochelle, a small town in the central region of the empire, a young woman was sitting behind the teller counter at a municipal bank. Like the other tellers, her chestnut brown hair was tied up without a single loose strand, and her fingers were moving diligently across the abacus as her face remained expressionless. Her lifeless green eyes darted around, then suddenly widened when they landed on the newspaper brought over by the customer at the next counter.

Farm for Sale!

It was an advertisement on a corner of the page, with a price stamped below in gigantic letters: 8,000 Gold

The monthly salary of an entry-level bank teller was only twelve gold. Assuming she didn’t spend a single coin, it would take her fifty-five years to come up with the money. She would be seventy-four years old by then.

Hazel sighed. She had a lifelong dream ever since she was eight: to have a farm of her own. But to the daughter of a ruined aristocratic household with no money to inherit whatsoever, it was a dream far too grandiose. Try as she might to tighten her belt and work longer hours, her salary was just too meager, and land just too expensive. She didn’t even know how much she’d have to save up to buy a small garden, let alone an entire farm.

I need to save more. More!

Just then, the branch manager passed by and glowered at her when he noticed her fingers weren’t moving. Hazel hastily pushed around the abacus beads again. A bell rang shortly after, signaling lunchtime. The bank employees, who were all exhausted from their endless and repetitive work, eagerly finished up their tasks to head out. Sitting next to Hazel, Rosalind stretched and turned around.

“Same as always?” she asked.

“Yep,” Hazel said with a nod.

She’d been working at the bank for two years now, but not once had she ever joined her coworkers for lunch. A buttered roll was more than enough for her. It cost five silver at the shop by the bank, but if she walked six blocks to the bakery under the bridge, she could get one for three silver instead—though the butter there was so thinly spread it was almost nonexistent. If she saved two silver fifty times that way, she’d end up with one gold. It was a good way to save money and to get in a good walk at the same time.

As she headed out the door, Hazel yanked her hair tie out and let her brown waves tumble over her shoulders. Then she unfastened a couple of buttons on her suffocating blouse.

Soaking in the sun and enjoying the breeze—however briefly—was the only thing in her day she looked forward to. Hazel walked down the stone steps, thinking to herself, when...

She suddenly stopped in her tracks. An old man was agitatedly waiting for her across the street. When he noticed her, he stretched his arms out wide and scampered over.

“Hazel!”

The man was wearing a bright and colorful shirt, his head topped with a wide-brimmed straw hat. The hems of his pants were rolled up to the knees and secured with straps. On his bare feet were open-toed sandals. This bizarrely dressed man, who was now garnering curious looks from all the passersby, was none other than Baron Archibald Sebastian Mayfield.

“Grandfather...?” Hazel said in bewilderment. She was thrilled to see him so suddenly after a year and a half, of course, but she couldn’t help but ask, “Why are you dressed like that when it’s still April?”

“I’m heading to Mamanuca straight after this,” the baron said with a wink. Then he lowered his voice and whispered, “I finally won big! It’s real this time!”

Hazel gazed at her grandfather’s flushed and excited face dispassionately, looking as though she were reading a customer’s account book.

The old man had a tendency to wander around, then appear out of the blue just before he was forgotten. He would give her eccentric gifts—like a hat embroidered with the name of a city she’d never heard of, or some foreign bug powder that was supposed to cure all diseases, or a ring that popped up a can opener when pressed—then disappear off to his next gambling trip again. Hazel still loved her grandfather, but that didn’t mean she had to believe all of his nonsense.

“Yes, yes,” she said. “We can talk about it later. Luckily, I don’t need to work late today. Here, take five silver and get yourself a coffee, Grandfather. We can buy groceries at the market together later. I’ll make you a meatloaf and bake some blueberry pie for dessert.”

“Oh, sweetheart...” The baron tenderly patted the cheeks of his sweet granddaughter, the girl who lived so frugally but was always so generous when it came to looking out for others. “No one in this world would be foolish enough to refuse your juicy meatloaf and wonderful blueberry pie. But now is not the time.”

Baron Mayfield then took out a sheet of paper from his briefcase and held it out to her.

“What’s this?” asked Hazel.

“A land document,” the baron replied proudly. “You always dreamed of owning a farm, remember? Well, today that dream comes true. You now have a farm in your name.”

“What?” Hazel said, not comprehending his words. She was certain she’d heard wrongly. Perhaps she was hallucinating because she was so desperate for a farm. Blinking in confusion, she asked, “What did you say, Grandfather? I now have what?”

“A farm!” the baron exclaimed. “You have a farm!”

“So I wasn’t hearing things? But... Oh, I see. It must be a puppy named Farm, right? Or maybe it’s a toy set.”

“What kind of dog comes with a land document? This isn’t a toy set! It’s a real farm, Hazel. My gift to you.”

“But that can’t be. I thought you didn’t want me to be a farmer.”

“You, my darling granddaughter, have been pestering me for over ten years, and it’s about time I give in. Besides, if that farm is our family’s real estate, that’s a whole different story. It could be an elegant hobby if you want. You can call yourself a horticulturist… You know, for crops. Ooh, that sounds good, actually. That’s what you should be.”

“So you’re saying... it’s a real farm?”

“Well, to be honest, it’s just a garden for now. But you can always build it into a farm. I’m sure you’ll love it. It has all the best conditions, see. It gets sunshine all day, and the land is flat and in good order. It’s small but perfect for a one-person farm. And it’s the perfect location, too—just a short walk to the carriage station, shops, walking path, cafes, and restaurants!”

“Hold on, Grandfather,” Hazel said, pulling herself together. “The last part sounds strange. Why would a farm be in a place like that?”

“Why, because it’s in the middle of the capital.”

“Huh?”

“That’s not the important part. Sweetheart, when would our horribly unfortunate family ever own land again? If this land is taken away from me, when would I ever get another chance?” Baron Mayfield muttered glumly.

Hazel’s heart sank. “What are you talking about? Is someone trying to seize our land?”

“That’s right. Actually, I was lucky enough to bid for a house in the capital at a low price a long long time ago. A small house with a garden. But some very high-ranking landlord bought up all the surrounding land to renovate his own home, and now we’re the only ones left. This powerful man would never let us farm in his fancy new home. And well, he’s threatening to claim the land for his own if the owner doesn’t appear by the first of next month!”

“That’s ridiculous! I don’t care how powerful he is, that can’t be possible!” Hazel counted the days, then let out a shriek. “The first of next month? That’s only three days away!”

“I found out too late myself. But there’s still hope. I have all the documents here that prove the land is legally entitled to us. If you hurry, you can get there just in time. So leave right now. You need to protect our land, your farm.”

“My farm...” Hazel said, her face turning blank once more. If it were any other day, she would have immediately recognized that something didn’t quite add up. I finally won big. That’s what Baron Mayfield had undoubtedly said. But those words were already long since forgotten.

Hazel had only but one thought: My farm. I have my own farm...

That was when she finally looked down at the document in her grandfather’s hand. A moment ago, she’d avoided looking at it because it was all just so unbelievable. But now she had the courage to look through it in detail.

Hazel Edwina Mayfield.

The moment she saw her own name clearly written on the land document, she felt jolted awake, and her heart swelled.

“Oh my!” she cried, throwing her arms around her grandfather. “The land is really in my name! I can’t believe it! Am I dreaming?”

“Of course not! See? Look here. Don’t all the documents look legitimate?”

“Yes, they certainly do! I’ve examined plenty of loan applications at the bank for two years, so I know what I’m talking about! Don’t worry, Grandfather. As long as this document is in my name, nobody can take that land away from me!”

“Yes, I knew you’d say that,” the baron said, lovingly stroking his granddaughter’s hair. “This is all for you. I know it may be hard, but hang in there. Once I get back, I’ll get you a bigger farm like you’ve always wanted.”

“No, this is more than enough. Why would you buy me two farms?”

“Hmm, I suppose you’re right. Well, good luck then.”

The baron turned away and left. And even after he completely disappeared from sight, in his straw hat and shorts, Hazel remained standing there vacantly. She could hear the violent pounding of her heart, something she’d never felt even when she got off work for the day.

“Oh my! Oh dear!” She couldn’t think straight as she headed back to the bank, almost in a trance.

The blinding sunlight, the gentle breeze, the chirping of the birds, and the people passing her by… Like most people who come across an enormous stroke of good luck, Hazel knew that every single detail of this moment would be etched into her memory forever.

When she stepped back into the bank, the branch manager was glaring at her. “You’re a full three minutes late!” he snapped. “And what’s with your uniform? This isn’t a pawnshop! Just quit if you’re going to behave this way!”

Hazel had always imagined this moment whenever the branch manager nagged at her.

“Okay, then I quit.”

To be actually saying this person! She couldn’t believe it. The entire bank fell so silent you could hear a pin drop. Everyone was staring wide-eyed at her.

Hazel slammed down her resignation letter on the desk—something she’d dreamt of thousands of times. It felt a lot more exhilarating than she’d imagined.

“Mayfield!” the branch manager yelled after her in a fluster.

But Hazel walked out without looking back.