Chapter 5: Limited quantity exclusive sale begins!

I clutched my head, staring at the post filled with embarrassing praise.

“…This is definitely about me, right?”

Joining a party without revealing I’m a healer.
Defeating a boss in 20 minutes.
A Luen-something pendant from the boss chest.

And the author, Sprout Guild Master Choi Hanul.

It was undeniable.
The protagonist of this post, with over 30,000 views, was me.

My face burned all the way to my ears.

“What the heck did I even do to deserve this kind of praise…?”

No matter how I thought about it, I’d only done the bare minimum as a healer. Nothing remarkable stood out.

Reading the post and its comments from start to finish only made me more confused.

“What is all this…?”

Is it really that weird for a healer to give up clear rewards?
So unbelievable that people think it’s made up?

Healers are that rare?

“No way…”

Then why did the party members from my previous gate treat me so harshly?

“Healer? I heard low-tier gates can be cleared with just DPS…”
“Having a healer might drag out the clear time.”

Their words still stung, echoing in my ears.

I immediately tapped the “All Posts” tab and searched for “healer.”

Swipe—swipe—
My scrolling sped up.

Posts desperately seeking healers, posts begging to run gates with even a mediocre healer, posts wishing to be reborn as a healer flashed by.

“Oh…”

Now I understood how this world worked.

I’d been incredibly lucky to awaken healing skills, but it turns out healers were one of the rarest existences in this world.

While I was pouring all my energy into growing the Lumina Bell, other awakeners had quickly realized this fact.

It felt like I’d been hit over the head with a hammer.

Now I understood why Guild Master Choi Hanul had been so deferential the moment he learned I was a healer.

And that meant…

[HealerHere: Hello, I’m a healer ^^ Nice to meet you, awakeners~]

My debut as a community named figure was just around the corner.
I quickly made an account and posted on the board.

Then I waited for the response.

If healers were that rare, my post as a healer should get way more views than Choi Hanul’s.

Maybe I’d finally get a named account for the first time in my life.

Thump-thump.
My heart swelled like it might burst.

But…

“…”

Shockingly, no one paid any attention to me.

Ding—

[Ugh, another troll… If you wanna be a healer so bad, get reborn. That’s the fastest way.]

Instead, I got a nasty comment calling me a troll.

Feeling dejected, I quietly turned off my phone screen.

‘What’s the problem…?’

No matter how I thought about it, I couldn’t figure it out.
Was I destined to be invisible offline or something?

Was that my fate?

…

I needed a mood boost.

I emptied the soil from the pots where I’d planted the seeds and replaced it with the soil from the gate.

Then I planted the five seeds in their pots and gave them a bit of water.

A message appeared, confirming the conditions were met.

[The seeds of ‘Lumina Bell’ accept the soil.]

Mana Level: 100 / 100
Soil Purity: Suitable

Beneath the lightly spread soil, the seeds began to emit a faint blue glow.

Now all that was left was patience and waiting.

The thought of making a fortune with these tiny guys definitely lifted my spirits.

But then…

[The seeds of ‘Lumina Bell’ are pouting, saying they’re hungry.]

A cute message popped up, as if the seeds were whining about being hungry.

Hmm, why are they hungry?
Wasn’t the water I gave them enough?

I added a bit more water, hoping it’d satisfy them.
But the message didn’t disappear.

I tried adding nutrients used for regular plants and piling on more soil, anything to fill the seeds’ bellies.

But it was no use.
The message stayed.

‘It’s a plant that contains high-purity mana, right?’

It wouldn’t even germinate without mana-rich soil…
So, maybe it needs mana as food?

After much thought, I decided to try using a skill on the seeds as a last resort.

Closing my eyes and focusing, a warm light bloomed from my fingertips, slowly drifting toward the pots.

Like a gentle drizzle, the light quietly soaked into the small pots.

[The seeds of ‘Lumina Bell’ smile with satisfaction.]

My last-ditch attempt had worked.
It felt like feeding a Tamagotchi.

I proceeded to cast Heal on the remaining four seeds.

As messages of satisfaction popped up over the pots, another notification appeared.

[You have gained sufficient proficiency.]
[Your unique ability, ‘Plant Enthusiast,’ has leveled up.]
[Unique Ability] – [Plant Enthusiast – Lv.2]

My unique ability had leveled up.

Then, a puzzling message followed.

[New ability unlocked.]
[When a plant’s satisfaction is sufficient during germination, the chance of a rare lifeform being born increases by +20%.]

“Rare lifeform?”

A lifeform being born from a plant? I’d never heard of or imagined such a thing.

‘Is it just a fancy way of saying a rare flower will bloom?’

Hmm, I don’t know.

I’d probably figure it out by raising them diligently.

It’s about time.

Time to spread the word about the Lumina Bell’s effects and value.
Time to dry up its seeds in the gates and sell them exclusively myself…!

“How can even the sprouts be this cute?”

I gently tapped the tiny, adorable leaves with my index finger.

Judging by the sprouting speed,
now seemed like the perfect time to succeed in growing the Lumina Bell while its seeds dried up in the gates.

I’d considered running through nearby gates to gather a few more Lumina Bells before spreading their effects.

But now that I was certain I could grow them, I thought, Why bother?

Honestly, gates—where you never know what monster you’ll face or when—are just too scary and unpleasant.

Fighting the monsters inside? Equally scary and unpleasant.

I’d fought hard so far because my party members’ lives depended on me, but…
Honestly, fighting monsters isn’t my thing.

Even if healers are rare and I could pick high-reward gates with VIP treatment, it doesn’t appeal to me.

I just want to stay home and take care of my flowers.

“Alright, let’s do this.”

I’d been dying to post about the Lumina Bell.
I wanted to applaud myself for enduring this long.

“Hmm… Plant gallery? Or the awakener community?”

Rumors would spread faster in the awakener community, but for my long-time dream, the plant gallery felt right.

I turned on my computer and started writing a post for the plant gallery.

[PlantFan: The flower dubbed the gallery’s mascot recently… I got its seeds and succeeded in growing it…]

Tap-tap-tap. I was typing excitedly when I paused and deleted everything.

‘Now that I think about it, posting about succeeding in growing the Lumina Bell might be risky.’

It’d get a lot of comments and attention, sure, but it could cause problems later when I start selling them exclusively after the seeds dry up.

Like people figuring out who I am.

So, I decided to write a post only about the Lumina Bell’s effects.

[PlantFan: The flower dubbed the gallery’s mascot recently… (Deleting in 10 min)]

I uploaded a pre-taken photo, noting that the flower has a basic mana regeneration effect and is effective for mental strain.

I added that I was sharing it out of guilt for keeping it to myself, to hook the readers.

As soon as I posted, the views skyrocketed, even though not much time had passed.

The comments were the same.
It was my first time getting double-digit comments on a post in under 10 minutes.

[PlantFan always posts weird clickbait, don’t they? No credibility…]
[Is this info legit??]
[You say you’ll delete in 10 minutes but never do.]

But the reactions weren’t exactly great…

Plus, just for posting a bit to get attention, I was being treated like some habitual clickbaiter.

…That hurt!

My lips pouted without me realizing, but they soon tucked back in.

Response posts mentioning mine started appearing, and the comment vibe began to shift.

[Was hoarding it solo, but now it’s out in the open… ㅠ]

Thanks to that flower, low-tier gates were manageable, but now that it’s public, it’ll be hard to find in gates… It’s called Lumina Bell, huh. Thanks for everything. But why make it public… ㅠ

[The post is fake. Don’t believe it.]

The poster’s always writing clickbait. A flower from a low-tier gate having those effects? Makes no sense.

[I’ve tried that flower, and it doesn’t have mana recovery.]

Tastes bad and ruins your appetite. It’s just clickbait, so ignore it.

Negative opinions like “Why publicize something you were hoarding?” and “It’s fake, don’t believe it” started popping up.

[I’m gonna check it out, even if it’s a scam.]

My skills are mostly AOE, so gates are hell.
Whether it’s true or not, I’ll see for myself.

[Seeing some reactions, it feels real.]

Were some people keeping it secret for profit?
Our plant gallery isn’t that stingy, is it…?
…Kinda disappointed.

[Thank you, PlantFan… You’ll be blessed…]

You could’ve kept the profit to yourself, but sharing such valuable info?
Who knew a mana recovery source was this close…
I quickly formed a party for a low-tier gate. Thank you ㅠㅠ

Positive opinions started emerging, and my post exploded with reactions, even hitting the trending section for the first time in my life.

Before I knew it, the plant gallery was flooded with talk about my post.

Thump-thump-thump.
My heart raced like crazy.

I could feel dopamine surging to its peak.

Getting this much attention in the community…

It was way more thrilling than I’d imagined…!

Word about the Lumina Bell spread beyond the plant gallery, rippling through various communities.

Magic-based awakeners, who relied heavily on mana, canceled their schedules and rushed to low-tier gates.

Their sole goal: find the Lumina Bell.

Even awakeners who didn’t need mana joined in.

Some wanted to grow it at home, others aimed to sell it for a high price, and they all flocked to low-tier gates.

The Lumina Bells they struggled to gather withered or died the moment they left the gate.

Even planting them in pots at home didn’t help.
Using gate soil didn’t change the outcome.

No one who rushed to low-tier gates could keep a Lumina Bell alive for long.

But those who confirmed its effects refused to give up.
They kept trying, again and again.

Then one day, when the Lumina Bell’s seeds had completely dried up and vanished from the gates…

[Lumina Bell: 5 flowers, limited quantity for sale. Name your price. Bulk welcome.]

Someone had not only kept the near-impossible-to-sustain Lumina Bell alive but had succeeded in cultivating it.