The plaza where the lottery had been held looked quieter than before. There had been so many people back then. In the distance, I saw the artifact workshop, the object of my love-hate relationship. They only sold a limited number of random boxes. It really took care of my mental health!

But… an artifact workshop…

I lifted the terrarium artifact on my wrist and stared at it blankly. I thought of Daisy2, with whom I had been talking until the link was cut just moments ago… and also of the 28th Terrarium.

They said the 28th Terrarium is bound to my artifact, right? So Daisy2 inside it is almost like she’s inside my artifact, allowing us to talk even from a distance. They also said that later, if I send the dandelion children into the artifact, they can even get to the 28th Terrarium.

And that place is an artifact workshop.

Could the artifact furniture I had dismissed as mere decoration for my room actually be moved to the 28th Terrarium? Since my terrarium is also an artifact after all? Especially things like the house… the house… That way, I might save some effort having to build buildings like houses from scratch?

“What are you thinking about?”

Mesquite asked, seeing me staring at the artifact workshop silently, my mind working.

I briefly mentioned my hypothesis, but no dryad could give me a clear answer. Even Mesquite, with all her knowledge, said this wasn’t her area since her previous owner had never been an administrative manager.

If you don’t know, just try it out! And the one who welcomed this decision more than anyone was the Elder.

There were two Normal Fields and one Desert Field. Although I had shopped at the artifact workshop once before, not a single piece of furniture was equipped for the newly recruited Swamp Field dweller, the Bog Child.

Even when I tried to send the child shopping alone, they refused to leave my side, so I had no choice but to bring them along. I gave Daisy2 a heads-up about my hypothesis beforehand and, as a test, bought a bench for the Normal Field and sent it to the artifact.

“It’s a nice bench. Much better than sitting on bare ground or scrap materials!”

And thus, my clever little scheme was proven right.

What matters to me is the house. But the house only comes from random boxes.

“Hello? How can I help you?”

“Do you remember me?”

Hello! We meet again! I disappeared for a few days and now I’m back—are the per-person purchase limits still in effect? Please tell me they’ve been reset!

“Unfortunately, Master Druid, you’ve used up all your limited purchases for this month and can’t access it anymore. Our 26th Terrarium operates a purchase limit system to prevent gambling addiction. I’m sorry.”

“This can’t be. No, I’m not someone desperate enough for money to get addicted to gambling! It’s all about getting back to square one! I’m just chasing my break-even point, so I’ll keep pulling until I get it—far from being a gambling addict!”

Even throwing a tantrum didn’t work. When I asked who in the world made that law to kick away the diamond luck that rolled in, they said it was the administrative officer. I said I’m a 4th-level gardener, so can’t we work something out? They said no? Ugh….

It’s too much trouble to go back to the orchard. When I set up my workshop in the 28th Terrarium, I’ll never impose any purchase limits!

Wait… did you say administrative officer? I’m a 4th-level gardener. That means I’m eligible to own a certain share of the 26th Terrarium here.

I woke up my phone and read the share ownership guide sent by the administrative officer. I found the part I needed. It said I could designate and own a specific area, with the price determined by substituting the taxes generated there.

In other words, if the taxes generated in the place I want to own are, say, 1,000 diamonds per month… then to own that place, I’d just need to pay 1,000 diamonds each month.

If I owned the share, I could exercise rights there, and the owner’s authority would override the laws of that Terrarium. That means, if I buy the share of the area where this workshop is located….

“Does that mean the purchase limit law set by the administrative officer won’t apply to me?”

Sliding through the guidebook pages, I saw the full map of the 26th Terrarium. Could I touch the areas to buy them? I furiously tapped the commercial district where the workshop was.

This is mine now. Price doesn’t matter.

Looking at the activated area from my taps, the artifact workshop I wanted to buy was bundled together with several nearby shops.

Despite my urgency, the purchase window didn’t pop up right away. Instead, a table appeared comparing the tax revenue generated in that area over recent periods with the point of purchase. At the timing I was trying to buy, the graph shot up sharply.

The purchase price was determined by averaging the tax generation of the area over the last two weeks, and a note also appeared advising that it was smarter to buy the share when the diamond value was lowest, based on the buyer’s judgment.

There was even an additional note that any surplus profit based on the price at purchase would be entirely mine. In other words, for an ordinary buyer, it was a case of buying cheap to profit.

Well, I thought I instantly understood why the graph had spiked. I had, after all, cleaned out this shopping district with diamonds within the last two weeks.

Something was wriggling its way in from one side of the info window. It was the dwarves.

The dwarves poked at the guide text with their pickaxes…

[Master! Why buy when the diamond price is low?]

…They looked as astonished as if they had seen something utterly incomprehensible. Wouldn’t people with limited capital naturally aim for the time when the payment is smallest? It’s useless guidance for people like us with unlimited capital.

[Master! Buy when you need to pay more diamonds!]

[Master! Do you need a lot of diamonds?]

A notice also appeared saying the purchase price would be lower if I waited a few more days. At that, the dwarves made a fuss and shouted to go ahead and buy quickly. To an outsider, it would be a truly ironic situation.

After a few more touches, a notification window popped up saying I now owned the district’s stake. The land area was the smallest among the selectable zones on the map, but the amount paid was the highest. It felt like buying prime real estate in Gangnam. Since I bought at the highest price, there wouldn’t be any surplus profit.

I showed the phone screen to the employee at the random box corner. I pointed with my fingertip to make sure the name ‘Owner: Jae’ was clearly visible.

Now, this place is mine. I didn’t buy the goods from here to there, I bought the land. The employee’s eyes widened.

“Oh my god! From now on, you have to pay taxes equal to the revenue from this place!”

“Say that louder. There are some here who need to hear it.”

I repositioned the phone so the dwarves could hear clearly. Did you hear that well? Now, besides the 28th terrarium’s diamond-sucking world tree branch, there’s another place that permanently drains money. I heard cheers from the dwarves, excited to modify the cart even more.

“What did you do? You bought this place?”

Elder came running up, his face as white as a strand of hair. I misjudged. I should have spoken loudly enough that guy couldn’t hear it. Before a stream of utterly useless nagging could start, I turned his large body around. Then I pointed from one end of the store to the other.

“Elder. Look at this. It’s all yours. You can take whatever you want to decorate your artifact area. See, it’s glittering here and there? I’ll close the store for the day for us, so feel free to pick to your heart’s content. I doubt you have enough time to take everything, so go on.”

Hearing that, he forgets the purpose that brought him to where I was and disappears with a bright, innocent face.

“Of course, the cost will all…”

“Yes! It’ll come out of my wallet. I didn’t even need to hear that. With one straw already stuck in, I expected as much.”

And that profit will come back to my wallet. Then next month, it’ll be taken out again as taxes. A cycle of diamonds.

“Since I bought this place, the per-person purchase limit for random boxes… I’ll lift it!”

The employee’s face showed disbelief that someone would buy a section for such a reason. But even shocking things can happen.

All that was left for me now was simple labor. I asked if we could avoid wasting each other’s energy since all the boxes would be opened anyway, and whether they could tell me which boxes contained houses, but they said they didn’t know either. So I had to open every single one.

With no one watching since the shop was closed, I plopped down on the spot. Wolfsbane followed and sat beside me.

“I’ve got two dryads with good luck, and I’m curious how you’ll fare. Want to give it a try? Open whatever you feel like. This is a Fence Box—it usually only contains fences, but sometimes something else comes out.”

Ugh… that satisfying feeling in my hands. I know a fence is coming, but there’s still that flutter of excitement, that thrilling feeling of not knowing if something else might appear.

Wolfsbane opened Fence Boxes one after another, and I realized this kid was no different from me when it came to luck. Wolfsbane had no way of knowing that Fence Boxes were a bust. She was just amazed at the cute, adorable items coming out of the boxes.

“We really seem alike. Look at this—I’m only getting fences from every box I open too. Exactly the same, right? Even the white fence coming from my box and the white fence coming from yours—it’s identical.”

The situation was so amusing that I let out a giggle, and a small smile appeared on Wolfsbane’s face facing me. Her cheeks, always filled with tears and gloom, flushed red. The child was happy.

“I wouldn’t have been so happy getting fences from a limited-quantity box.”

Wolfsbane’s expression was about to change.

“I mean, when I was decorating just my artifact! I didn’t need that many fences. But for the 28th terrarium, even a single piece of material is precious. It was heavily damaged too. Look at this 26th terrarium—you see how many fences and walls are set up around the outer perimeter?”

I grabbed the box of fences that Wolfsbane was holding along with him.

“The fences you’ve discovered are going to be needed very, very much for the 28th terrarium! You’re doing great right now. You’re helping me do what I need to do to get what’s absolutely necessary, aren’t you? I’m so grateful for your help!”

Plenty of praise. The essential interaction needed to improve closeness between Wolfsbane and me. Isn’t this situation not too awkward for me to pour out praise? The child will understand. Wolfsbane’s cheeks flushed red again.

As I stuffed bundles of fences into the artifact, Daisy2 let out a groan.

“There’s no room!”

Just as I was about to exhaust almost all the stacked boxes, a pretty little cabin popped out. This wasn’t so much luck as it was the inevitable result of overwhelming quantity forcing out what was meant to appear. An artifact furniture piece that increases the recovery speed of normal field dryads and provides a sense of stability.

Daisy 2, having already received streetlamps, benches, and landscaping items, called a stop when it came to handing over the cabin, saying the recovery level of the 28th terrarium was too low to accommodate any more artifact furniture.