Not a week after signing the contract with George, I found out that Jacob was not the arsonist. I learned this not because of the private investigator, but because of the truck lodged in my gate. Like the time the equipment shed had been torched, Dad and I were awoken early in the morning by a knock at the door.

  “Good morning, Mr. Teller,” said the officer—the same one that had driven me and Dad to and from the farm when the equipment shed burned down.

  I yawned loudly and called for Dad, who stumbled to the door.

  “Mornin’ officer,” he said. “What happened this time? Another fire?”

  “Thankfully not,” the man chuckled. “A truck crashed into the gate. We think this may have been the same individual who set the fire. He had a large amount of fuel in the back and some explosives. He’s been arrested, but I was hoping you could get me a copy of the security cam footage from tonight.”

  “Sure,” Dad said. “Do you need it right away, or can we get it to you during the day?”

  “The soonest you can, please.”

  “Alright,” Dad sighed. “Eddy, we’re going there in a couple of minutes. Officer, I’m going to wake up and head over. Should I have Eddy send them by email or drop them off directly at your office?”

  “Email is fine,” he smiled and turned to go before turning back again. “And thanks.”

  The officer left. Dad yawned loudly and complained. He was absolutely not a morning person. I wasn’t in much better shape. Maybe it was my youth—or maybe it was my improved stats. Either way, I found it easier to shake the sleep from my eyes. It took ten minutes before Dad fired up his truck. I climbed in and we were off.

  The scene we came to was a mess. The truck was wedged into the fence like it had tried to ram its way through. Even at its weakest point—the gate—that fence had been reinforced. I had not been pleased by all the damage done to my fields and equipment. Was it overkill? Maybe. But I was proud of what I’d built. Seeing the results—a busted truck—meant it has been well worth it.

  Before going into the shed for the footage, I snapped a few pictures of the wrecked truck. Particularly, I wanted to grab the license plate. The private investigator had been struggling with Jacob, but he’d also done a decent job. Maybe this person would be a better target.

  I grabbed the copies and went back home with Dad. Before trying to sleep again, I sent the relevant recordings to the officer like he’d asked. The cameras had caught the man trying to break into the gate with tools before giving up and ramming it a few times with the truck. Minutes later, the police arrived to the man stumbling from his truck. A brief investigation followed that ended with the man being put in handcuffs and being taken away in a squad car.

  I sent the pictures of the truck to the private investigator to see what he could make of them. As with the fire, I did not trust the police to do a good job of investigating. Once the private investigator figured out the owner, I was hopeful he could track down a motive for all the vandalism. I was absolutely done with the bullshit.

  Sleep was slow in coming. Ever more elaborate scenarios for revenge filled my head. Eventually, I succumbed to a void-like slumber.

  Over the next week, the private investigator proved his worth. He found the name of the person—Daniel Robeson—and the most likely connection between us. The field where the equipment shed stood had been his grandparent’s farm before I bought it. The sale was through the estate with a different last name.

  Apparently, this Daniel fellow had been ranting online about how the farm was supposed to have gone to him. The private investigator thought it had something to do with not getting a windfall when his grandparents died—something he’d been counting on. When he didn’t get it, well, he decided to get back at the new owners who had stolen it from him.

  The whole scenario was bonkers to me, but I knew how some people were when it came to money. At least he was off the street for now. The police were charging him with a few things, but none of them were for the fire—which the private investigator had showed was him from social media posts. And that was why I did not trust the police very much. I could hire much better people than that.

  Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  Since the events had been fully revealed, I considered going to get my revenge. And boy did I want to. But I chose not to because he was likely to go to jail for a while. I also knew who to watch out for in the future. It would be very easy for me to take care of the issue in a way that the police could never solve. For now, though, that wasn’t something I intended to do.

  My focus throughout spring and summer was on the farm. I tended the crops and maintained the equipment. I mended fences and handled irrigation. Come late August, I was ready to harvest the grain. It had ripened nicely over the summer.

  I fired up the tractor. Attached was a large machine to harvest the heads of the wheat. A conveyor moved it up and over into a wagon that Dad pulled with his tractor. We started by the equipment shed before moving from field to field. As long as it wasn’t wet, we were working. It took over two weeks to pull everything in and get it stored. The customers wanted wheat that had been dried to a certain level, so after threshing the wheat from the chaff, the grains were left to dry before being sold.

  I was happy to be done with major work for the year. The harvest had been nice, but it was the experience that had been even sweeter. A little over a million and a half! That brought my total to 2,862,811.

  Since the harvest was over, I paid a visit to George at his store. It irked me so much that Dad had to deliver me anywhere I needed to go. I missed being the captain of my own ship. There were magical solutions to the problem, but those would just create other mundane problems. No, I was stuck riding in Dad’s truck whenever I wanted to go anywhere.

  George’s store looked a hell of a lot better than it had when I walked through it with him the first time. Instead of the ancient debris everywhere, it now had a sleek modern look—well, as sleek and modern as a hardware store could conceivably be. There were rows of shelving with a multitude of products. Everything from nails to pipe fittings to paint and even pest control was packed neatly in its own place.

  “Hey, George,” I said upon seeing him loading a can of paint into a shaker.

  “One moment, please,” he said.

  He turned the machine before facing me. A smile lit up his face.

  “Eddy!”

  He thrust a hand forward. I shook it.

  “How have you been?” I asked.

  “Good. Good! The business is starting to pick up.”

  The smile on his face faltered as he continued.

  “I think the place will be profitable by the end of the year, but that’s hard to say.”

  “It’s all good. No pressure. And I mean that truthfully. I couldn’t care less if you need a bit more money to get it going. That’s not why I’m doing it.”

  I could see the smile return to his face as I said that. I also guessed he took my words differently to how I really meant them. After all, he didn’t know my secret—nor would I be divulging it if I could avoid it. To him, it was charity. To me, it was an experiment.

  Truth be told, the project was only a minor success. I got a portion of the experience I would have if I’d been the owner of the place and handling every transaction. It paled in comparison to the experience I gained through farming, but that was fine by me. All it had cost was half a million. I had plenty of money, but not enough time. It was the kind of thing I should do more of—if only I could find people to invest in.

  “The loss last month was only about five thousand,” George said. “Compare that with the previous month when it was almost double that.”

  “George,” I said. “You’ll do just fine. Like I said, the money isn’t an issue. I have more than I know what to do with. Follow your dream.”

  “Right.”

  We fell into silence for a few seconds. Then his face lit up again as he recalled something.

  “I just remembered what my wife—Mable—said last week. Would you and your father like to come with us to the State Fair? I know you’re done with the harvest, so we figured that you’d have some time to come check it out—if you want to.”

  “Sure,” I said.

  I hadn’t been to any fair that large… ever. It meant time away from the farm—and from quests—but that was alright. I’d learned that I needed to decompress from time to time. At least it was a novel experience this time, so I figured I would see what all the fuss was about with these kinds of events. I mean, any time I heard about the State Fair, it was always seen as this great, awesome event. I’d have to see if that was really true.

  “When is it?” I asked.

  “It opens two weeks from now and will be open for about a month. We should plan to go on a Monday when I can close the store early. There will hopefully be less people around then. It can get mighty crowded!”

  I nodded.

  “Alright, I’ll let Dad know. And it was good seeing you.”

  “Likewise. Have a good day.”

  I waved and left the store. Dad was waiting for me by his truck. He has a large ice cream cone in hand. I didn’t see one for me-not that I expected one.

  “You didn’t get me one!” I mockingly complained. “After all, I do for this family, and this is the thanks I get?”

  “Well, sir, then you’ll simply have to starve!” Dad replied in a faux accent, an exaggerated look of superiority plastered on his face.

  I couldn’t take it anymore and broke into a fit of laughter. I hopped into the truck and Dad started the trek home.

  “George invited us to the State Fair,” I told him.

  “Did he now? Well, that was nice. Did he say when?”

  “No,” I shook my head. “Said that a Monday would be best, but otherwise not. I’ll let the two of you work it out since you’re my ride. I’ll be ready for whenever you figure it out.”

  “Sure. I’ll let you know.”