Wizard Starts Farming With Mini Skeletons
Chapter 108

Chapter 108: Chapter 108

The old man—disheveled in appearance but exuding a sinister aura—grinned widely when he saw Clayton, revealing teeth stained with thick, red liquid.

"Hey, Clayton! What brings you here? Isn’t it a little early for the wheat harvest?" he asked with unsettling enthusiasm.

Clayton managed an awkward smile, hesitant to step any closer. Vino, seemingly oblivious to his discomfort, cheerfully waved him in.

"Come on in already!"

After a moment’s hesitation, Clayton stepped inside, a mix of unease and curiosity churning in his gut.

"Have a seat!" Vino said, motioning toward a nearby chair.

Clayton sat while Vino disappeared into the back of the house. The place looked just as it had the year before, but something about it felt different now—like he was in a place it’d be all too easy to lose yourself in... or never leave at all.

His eyes landed on a glass filled with a deep red liquid. It looked just like the potent brew Old Man Wood had sampled the previous year. Clayton had tried it too—just one sip—and immediately vomited.

He suspected it was the same liquor now staining Vino’s mouth and clothes with that disturbing crimson hue. The air held a faint, sweet-metallic scent that made his stomach tighten. As he reached for the glass to confirm, Vino returned, arms full with several bottles.

"Come on, try this liquor I brewed using your grain!" Vino said excitedly, pouring the drink into a small cup and handing it to Clayton.

Clayton accepted it hesitantly, sniffing it like it might be poison. But the moment the aroma hit his nose, a warm, soothing sensation spread through his body—like soaking in a hot spring.

Enchanted by the scent, he gave in and took a sip.

Glug.

He drank the entire cup in one go, pleasantly surprised by the flavor.

"This is incredible!" he exclaimed, eyes widening.

Vino laughed heartily.

"Hahaha! Drink as much as you want if you like it!" he said, generously refilling Clayton’s cup.

For a while, Clayton enjoyed the homemade liquor at a leisurely pace. After the warmth in his chest faded, Vino leaned in.

"So? Better than last year’s batch?"

Clayton nodded. "It’s smoother. Not sure why, but it goes down easier."

"That’s the quality of the grain," Vino said proudly. "Always a pleasure doing business with you. Your wheat’s top-tier—I look forward to your visits every year."

Clayton nodded again.

"So... any chance we can bump up the price a little?" he asked, straight to the point.

Vino’s face immediately soured.

"No can do. Our margins are already razor-thin. Raise the price, and we start bleeding money."

Clayton wasn’t convinced. He kept negotiating, and after a long back-and-forth, they eventually reached a compromise: the wheat price would remain the same, but Vino would throw in a few extra bottles of liquor.

Clayton summoned thirty sacks of wheat from his storage space. At first tense, Vino lit up once he began inspecting the grain. Satisfied, he paid Clayton 3,000 magic crystals along with the bonus bottles.

With the deal complete, Clayton stood to leave—he had no desire to linger in this unsettling place.

Seeing him about to go, Vino tried to tempt him into staying.

"Come on, drink another round with me! Try the blood wine again! Last time you puked—give it another shot! You’ll get used to it. You might even like it!" he said, holding out a bottle.

Clayton refused firmly. The mere thought made his stomach twist. He backed away quickly, afraid of being pressured into something worse.

Realizing Clayton wasn’t budging, Vino finally relented.

But just as Clayton reached the door, something came to mind. He paused.

Vino’s eyes lit up, hopeful.

"Wait, did you change your mind? You want the blood wine after all? Come on—drink all you want!"

He stood and reached forward with the bottle.

Clayton raised his hand quickly. "No, no! I don’t want your creepy wine!"

Vino blinked, momentarily confused, then frowned.

"Then why’d you stop? Don’t tell me you regret the price and want to renegotiate. If that’s the case, let me remind you—no refunds."

Clayton rolled his eyes. "Relax. I’m not that kind of person."

"Then what is it? Did you forget something?"

Clayton shook his head.

"I want to sell you a different kind of grain."

Vino paused, intrigued. Then his face lit up.

"You’ve got more wheat? Why didn’t you say so earlier? Bring it out!"

"Not wheat," Clayton said. "Sorghum."

He pulled a sack from his storage.

At first, Vino looked puzzled. But when Clayton brought out five full bags, his eyes went wide. He rushed over, practically drooling as he examined the grain.

"Clayton! Where did you get this?!"

Clayton just smiled and said nothing.

Vino turned back to the sorghum, clearly impressed.

"What’s the asking price?"

"Three magic crystals per kilo."

Vino’s face immediately darkened.

"Come on, Clayton! Don’t get greedy. This is just a low-tier, one-star crop—same as wheat. One crystal per kilo, tops."

Clayton shook his head.

"Not happening. This is rare, high-quality sorghum. I’m certain it’ll improve your blood wine—maybe even make it drinkable to normal people."

Vino looked offended, but after a long moment of silence, he didn’t argue. He knew the truth—his wine had a very "selective" audience. Maybe this grain really could help.

After another round of haggling, the deal was sealed. Eventually, they agreed on a price: 1.5 crystals per kilogram.

Clayton earned an additional 750 lower-tier magic crystals. They shook hands, both smiling.

Vino looked like he was already dreaming up brewing recipes. Then he paused and asked:

"Got anything else? Something good? Come on, show me!"

"That was the last of it," Clayton said firmly.

Vino eyed him with suspicion, but when Clayton didn’t produce anything else, he let it go.

Satisfied, Clayton left the house behind. Vino remained at the doorway, staring down at the sacks of sorghum—and at Clayton’s retreating figure—with an unreadable expression.

...

After selling his grain, Clayton didn’t head home immediately. As usual, he absorbed ambient magic energy near his land before making his way to the market to stock up on materials for scroll-making and alchemy.

With planting season over, he had more free time—and after Arthur’s recent warning, he intended to limit his trips into town.

This gave Clayton ample time to practice magic, craft magic scrolls, and delve into alchemy.

At the market, he shopped with care. Despite having plenty of money, Clayton was still mindful of his spending and avoided unnecessary purchases.

After purchasing the materials—at painfully high prices—he was about to head home. But something felt off. He’d drawn too much attention with his bulk purchases.

A sense of unease crept in.

He regretted being so flashy. Not smart, he thought, especially in a place teetering on unrest.

As he walked, alert and tense, a loud voice suddenly rang out nearby.

Clayton instantly went on high alert, wondering if the shout was aimed at him. He turned cautiously toward the source, ready to cast a spell.

But then he relaxed.

It was just a brothel servant being scolded by a greasy, overweight man. Nothing to do with him.

But then—just for a second—the servant’s eyes met his.

Recognition struck like lightning.

"Bravus," Clayton whispered, barely audible.