“Anyway, this powder is a type of fertilizer.”
“F-fertilizer? You mean… manure?”
Arina wrinkled her elegant brow, her mind spiraling into a series of horrifying assumptions.
‘Hold on… does that mean…?!’
The thought hit her like a thunderbolt. In this world, manure-based fertilizers were the norm, often made from human and animal waste.
‘Those jars… could they have contained Arad’s…?’
And worse still, she had found the smell… appetizing?
‘No! That can’t be! This can’t be happening!’
Her head swirled in a storm of confusion and disgust.
“Manure? Hardly! This is on an entirely different level,” Arad said proudly, oblivious to her mental chaos. “I crafted it using my alchemy and agricultural knowledge. It’s a miracle powder with outstanding effects.”He began pondering aloud, gesturing toward the powder.
“What should I call it? It’s like a magical version of chemical fertilizer, but it’s not exactly that. Since it uses Black Earth and magic stone powder, maybe… Magical Fertilizer? Or High Tower Fertilizer? Hmm, maybe something simpler, like Arad Fertilizer?”
Then, his gaze shifted to Arina.
“Or maybe I’ll name it after you.”
“…Huh?”
“How about Mary Fertilizer? A miracle powder that brings prosperity to the North, bearing your name.”
“…???”
Arina’s face twisted in disbelief.
“So, you’re saying… you want to name manure after me?”
Her words, strained and trembling, reflected the utter devastation she felt inside.
Arad noticed something was off with Mary.
“So, you’re saying… you want to name manure after me?”
She muttered the words almost inaudibly, her expression pale and distant.
‘What’s wrong with her? She doesn’t seem thrilled about having her name on this fertilizer.’
Her reaction didn’t convey joy or gratitude—far from it.
“Mary? Is there a problem? You don’t seem too happy about this.”
Arad waited for her to collect herself before addressing her directly.
“It’s just… it doesn’t seem appropriate to have my name on something made of… excrement. Even if it’s not mine.”
Mary’s tone was uncharacteristically firm and serious, her words carefully chosen.
“Excrement? I thought I made it clear—this fertilizer doesn’t use any manure.”
Arad tilted his head, puzzled.
He thought he had explained earlier that the fertilizer was made from refined materials like Black Earth, magic stone powder, and special weeds. Had she not heard him? Or had he spoken too quietly?
“It’s made from the Black Earth of the greenhouse, purified magic stone powder, and select herbs from the Snowfield.”
“R-really?”
As the truth sank in, Arina’s expression softened, the confusion and distress fading.
“This fertilizer will be hard to replicate. One of the main ingredients, the Black Earth, can only be obtained from the greenhouse for now. In other words, it’s something we can monopolize. I’m sure the Grand Duchess will be pleased, too—she’ll be able to generate significant profits from this.”
As Arad continued to explain, Arina’s face flushed redder by the second.
‘I jumped to conclusions… what was I even thinking?!’
The realization of her earlier misunderstanding flooded her with embarrassment.
“But still…!”
“What now?”
Despite having her concerns addressed, Arina refused to yield completely. Her pride wouldn’t allow her to let it go so easily.
“Even if there’s no manure involved, the common folk won’t care about that distinction. To them, fertilizer is fertilizer.”
“Fair enough. But Mary is a common name, isn’t it? Does it matter that much?”
“Yes! It absolutely matters!”
“…Why? Please elaborate.”
Sensing that this wasn’t just about her personal feelings, Arad decided to hear her out.
“The late Grand Duchess—Lady Mary—used that name as her personal nickname.”
“…What?!”
Her words landed like a thunderclap.
“You didn’t know?”
“This is the first I’ve heard of it.”
“Well, that makes sense. You’re not a native of the North, after all.”
Her explanation was valid—and horrifyingly significant.
To name fertilizer after the beloved late Grand Duchess would have been an unthinkable insult, tantamount to treason.
“Thank you, truly. You just saved me from making a catastrophic mistake.”
Arad expressed his gratitude with heartfelt sincerity, realizing how close he’d come to an irreparable blunder.
“It’s nothing, really.”
Though flustered by his thanks, Mary felt relieved.
But as Arad observed her closely, something nagged at him.
‘Arina?’
There was something strikingly familiar about her demeanor.
‘Wait a second… isn’t this too much of a coincidence? A common name like Mary, yet it matches both the late Grand Duchess’s nickname and the Snowfield Archwitch’s name?’
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