The morning sun over Maplewood was, once again, obnoxiously cheerful. It streamed through the grimy window of Room 5, painting a bright stripe across my face. For a moment, disoriented, I thought I was back in my Tokyo apartment, late for work. Then the scent of damp wood and distant baking bread hit me, and the previous day's absurdity came crashing back.
Right. Fantasy world. OP skills. Doomed Hero. Bob.
I sat up, the thin straw mattress crunching beneath me. No spreadsheets. No soul-crushing commute. Just the promise of a day spent gathering plants. It was, I decided, a significant upgrade.
After a breakfast of hard bread and cheese from my [Infinite Inventory]—the convenience of which still sent a thrill through me—I set out for the Sunken Woods. The quest slip for Common Moonlight Herbs was tucked securely in my tunic. My F-Rank adventurer's tag, a dull copper disc, felt reassuringly heavy around my neck. A symbol of my glorious new career.
The Sunken Woods earned its name. It was a vast, ancient forest where the ground dipped and swelled in a series of gentle, moss-covered valleys, making it feel like the world was sinking into a sea of green. The air was cool and thick with the scent of damp earth, pine, and decaying leaves. Sunlight filtered through the dense canopy in shimmering, cathedral-like beams. It was the kind of place where epic battles or profound character revelations were supposed to happen.
I was here for herbs.
I stood at the forest's edge, taking a deep, theatrical breath. Time to go to work.
'Ultimate Appraisal,' I thought, focusing not on a single target, but on the concept of 'Common Moonlight Herbs within a one-kilometer radius.'
The world… shifted.
It was like opening a master control panel for reality. My vision overlay with a shimmering, translucent topographical map. Thousands of data points flickered into existence. I saw the health of every tree, the burrow of every rabbit, the venom sac of a spider hiding under a leaf fifty meters away. And herbs. So many herbs.
[Common Moonlight Herb]
Location:12m Northwest, near base of oak tree.
Quality:Standard.
Viability:92%.
[Common Moonlight Herb]
Location:45m East-southeast, cluster of three.
Quality:Standard.
Viability:88%.
The information scrolled through my mind like a stock ticker. It was overwhelming, but my data-entry-honed brain latched onto it with a kind of terrified glee. I could sort this. I could filter it. I was no longer a herb gatherer; I was a harvest optimization engine.
But first, privacy. 'Absolute Stealth.'
The familiar veil of nothingness fell over me. The forest sounds—the chirping birds, the scuttling of insects—didn't change, but I knew that to any living creature, I was now a ghost. I was a vacuum, a hole in the world where a person should be. I took a step forward, and not a single blade of grass bent under my foot. Perfect.
My plan was simple: use the map in my head to plot the most efficient gathering route, use my stealth to avoid any and all conflict, and use my [Infinite Inventory] to store the herbs in a state of perfect preservation. I would be in and out in under an hour, a model of quiet efficiency.
I moved. With [Physical Apex] enhancing my body, my movements were fluid and effortless. I didn't run; I glided, a silent phantom flitting between the sunbeams. I reached the first cluster of herbs. They were small, silvery plants with leaves that seemed to hold a faint, milky luminescence, even in the daylight. I didn't even need to bend over. A mere thought, and the plants vanished from the forest floor and appeared in the pristine, timeless void of my inventory, sorted into a mental folder labeled 'Quest Herbs.'
It was… boring.
Gloriously, wonderfully boring. This was the peak of my profession. No small talk. No office politics. Just pure, unadulterated task completion. I felt a sense of professional fulfillment I hadn't experienced since I'd successfully automated a quarterly report back at the firm.
I flitted from location to location, a spectral gardener reaping an invisible harvest. My inventory count ticked up: 5 bundles… 10 bundles… 15. I had already exceeded the quest requirement twice over in less than twenty minutes. I could stop now. I could go back. But something about the sheer efficiency was intoxicating. I was a machine. A perfectly tuned, reality-bending machine of herb acquisition.
It was during this automated trance that a new data point flashed at the edge of my perception. It was different from the others. Brighter. More… potent.
[???]
Location:120m Southwest, deep within a thorny thicket near a small stream.
Quality:??? (Anomalous)
Mana Signature:Elevated. Mutated.
My internal optimizer screeched to a halt. An anomaly. A bug in the system. My programmer brain itched to investigate. This was against my better judgment. Anomalies drew attention. But my curiosity, the same curiosity that had killed the cat (or in my case, the data clerk via banana peel), was a powerful beast.
I altered my course, slipping through the thicket without a single thorn catching on my tunic. There, nestled in a rare patch of sunlight that broke through the canopy, was the plant.
It was a Moonlight Herb, but… more. Its leaves were a deeper, more metallic silver, and the milky luminescence within them pulsed with a slow, steady rhythm, like a sleeping heart. Tiny, star-like specks of pure white light dotted its surface.
'Ultimate Appraisal,' I focused, demanding more.
[Radiant Moonlight Herb (Mutated)]
A rare, magically infused variant of the Common Moonlight Herb.
Properties:Potent mana-conductivity, enhanced alchemical reactivity, permanent freshness.
Uses:High-grade mana potions, enchanting catalysts, ceremonial incense for astral magic.
Estimated Market Value:5-7 Gold Coins.
Danger:None. Just very, very expensive.
Five to seven gold? The Common Moonlight Herbs were worth eight copper a bundle. This single plant was worth more than a year's rent at the Snoring Slime. This was the fantasy equivalent of finding a blank check signed by a king.
My background character instincts screamed at me. Leave it. It's trouble. Rare items come with rare problems. People ask questions.
But my other instinct,the one honed by a lifetime of seeking the path of least resistance, whispered a seductive counter-argument. With this one plant, you could stop taking herb-gathering quests for a year. You could buy that remote cottage outright. This is the express lane to retirement.
The temptation was too great. With a flick of my will, the Radiant Moonlight Herb joined its common brethren in my inventory. The forest, unaware, continued its peaceful existence.
My work was done. I had enough common herbs to satisfy the quest a dozen times over, and a lottery ticket tucked away in my personal pocket dimension. Time to clock out.
I deactivated [Absolute Stealth] about a hundred meters from the forest's edge, making sure to scuff my boots and rub a bit of dirt on my tunic for authenticity. I then proceeded to walk the rest of the way to town at a normal, slightly weary pace, the picture of a humble adventurer returning from a modest day's work.
The Adventurer's Guild was slightly less crowded than the previous day. Lily was at her post, efficiently sorting through a stack of completed quest reports. She looked up as I approached, her emerald eyes brightening with recognition.
"Bob! Back already? The Sunken Woods can be tricky for newcomers. Don't tell me you got lost?" she asked, her tone friendly.
"No, just… focused," I said, placing my adventurer's tag and the quest slip on the counter. "I managed to find some herbs."
"That's great! Let's see what you've got." She smiled, expecting a small pouch or a wicker basket.
Instead, I focused and began retrieving the Common Moonlight Herbs from my inventory, placing them on the counter in neat, fragrant bundles. One, two, five, ten…
Lily's smile became slightly fixed. "That's… quite a haul for one morning, Bob." Her eyes, sharp with her [Keen Eye] skill, scanned the herbs. "And the quality is exceptional. They look like they were picked seconds ago. No wilting at all."
A small alarm bell rang in my head. Right. Preservation. Most people's herbs would wilt in a pouch. Mine had been in a timeless void. Rookie mistake.
"I, uh, have a special method for keeping them fresh," I mumbled, hoping she'd drop it. "Damp moss. In a sealed pouch."
"I see," she said, her voice neutral but her eyes now analytically curious. She counted out the bundles. "Fifteen bundles. At eight copper each, that comes to one silver and twenty copper." She counted out the coins. "A very successful first quest."
This was it. The moment of truth. Do I play it safe and just take the copper? Or do I accelerate my retirement plan?
The memory of a quiet cottage, far from bandits and hopeless Heroes, decided for me.
"There was… one more thing," I said, trying to sound hesitant. I reached into my prop pouch and willed the Radiant Moonlight Herb into my hand. I placed it on the counter between us.
It was even more striking under the guild's bright lanterns. Its pulsing light cast soft, shifting shadows on the polished wood. The air around it seemed to hum with a faint, clean energy.
Lily's professional composure shattered. Her eyes went wide, and her jaw dropped slightly. She leaned in, not touching it, but examining it with a reverence I hadn't seen from her before.
"By the founders…" she whispered. "A Radiant Moonlight Herb. I've only ever seen one in an alchemy textbook." Her eyes flicked up to me, brimming with undisguised shock. "Bob… where did you find this?"
"Just… in a thicket," I said, employing my full arsenal of 'Adequately Pleasant but Forgettable' charisma. "It looked different. I almost didn't pick it."
"You 'almost didn't pick it'?" she repeated, a disbelieving laugh escaping her lips. "Bob, this is… this is incredibly rare. And valuable." She looked at me, and for the first time, I saw something other than friendly professionalism in her gaze. It was a spark of deep, intense curiosity. "The guild's standard finder's fee for a high-grade alchemical ingredient like this is twenty percent. But its value…" She tapped her chin, thinking. "I'd need to consult with our appraiser, but based on the mana signature and purity… I'd feel confident offering you five gold coins for it right now. The guild can turn a profit selling it to a master alchemist in the capital."
Five gold. It was the lower end of the appraisal, but it was still a fortune. Enough to live modestly for a year. I fought to keep my expression neutral. Inside, I was doing cartwheels.
"That seems… fair," I said, my voice admirably steady.
She counted out five heavy, gleaming gold coins and pushed them across the counter, along with the silver and copper from the common herbs. The clink of the gold was a sound of pure, unadulterated freedom.
"Bob," she said, her voice serious as she stored the radiant herb in a lead-lined box she produced from under the counter. "This kind of find… it's not normal. It's the kind of luck people talk about." Her green eyes held mine. "Be careful who you tell about this. Not everyone in Maplewood is as honest as the guild."
It was a warning. A kind one, but a warning nonetheless. My excessive efficiency with the common herbs had raised an eyebrow. This rare find had raised the whole face.
"I understand," I said, scooping the coins into my pouch (and instantly transferring them to the security of my inventory). "Thank you, Lily."
I turned to leave, feeling the weight of her gaze on my back. I had done it. I had taken a massive step towards my goal. I was richer than I had ever been in either of my lives.
But as I stepped out into the sunny street, the five gold coins felt less like a victory and more like a first, tiny stone starting an avalanche. I had wanted to be a ghost, a whisper. But ghosts don't find legendary herbs on their first day of work. Whispers don't make a receptionist with a [Keen Eye] look at them as if they were a puzzle to be solved.
I had gained a small fortune. But I had paid for it with a sliver of my precious anonymity. It was a transaction I hadn't fully intended to make. The path to a quiet life, it seemed, was going to be full of unexpected and lucrative detours.
All I could do was hope that my next quest would be significantly more… mediocre.
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Chapter 4 End.
Author's Note:
Bob's first quest is a resounding,and slightly troubling, success! He's now significantly wealthier, but has he accidentally drawn the one thing a background character never wants: Attention? Lily is now officially curious about the quiet, inexplicably lucky new adventurer. What simple, unobtrusive quest will Bob take next to lay low? Find out in Chapter 5: The Unseen Delivery Boy