The meeting with Pak Prabu left Rian with mixed feelings.
He had not secured the deal he wanted, but neither had he been rejected. The supermarket manager had agreed to continue discussing a possible partnership, provided Rian could prove that his vegetables were capable of maintaining their quality in larger quantities.
For Rian, that meant one thing.
He needed more buyers.
He sat at the edge of his farm that afternoon, looking across the rows of enormous vegetables. The plants swayed gently beneath the warm Semarang sun, their leaves vibrant and impossibly healthy.
Jojo sat beside him, licking one paw.
"So," the cat said, "how does it feel to discover that becoming a successful farmer involves considerably more talking than farming?"
Rian sighed.
"I thought I'd spend my days growing vegetables."
"You are."
"And now I'm spending half my time convincing people to buy them."
Jojo paused.
"That is called business."
Rian looked at him.
"You really enjoy saying things that sound obvious, don't you?"
"I am a cat. Obvious wisdom is one of my greatest talents."
Despite himself, Rian laughed.
The tension in his chest eased slightly.
He knew Jojo was right. If he wanted to turn his small farm into something larger, he could not depend on a single market or one supermarket.
He needed options.
---
Over the next several days, Rian and Jojo began visiting restaurants around the city.
Rian carried small baskets containing samples of his best vegetables. Kaisar Chilies, unusually large carrots, crisp lettuce, tomatoes, and several other crops were carefully packed to look as ordinary as possible.
The first restaurant manager was skeptical.
"These are expensive," the man said after examining the vegetables.
Rian nodded.
"I understand. But please try them first."
The manager cut a small piece from one of the tomatoes.
His expression changed almost immediately.
"It's... sweet."
Rian smiled.
"That's what most people say."
The manager took another bite, this time more carefully.
"The texture is excellent too."
Rian felt a small surge of pride.
He had spent weeks experimenting with serum dilution ratios. Every successful harvest was the result of countless notes, failed experiments, and carefully measured drops.
The vegetables weren't simply large.
They were genuinely better.
Still, the manager ultimately offered only a small trial order.
Rian accepted.
One customer was better than none.
The next restaurant gave him a similar response.
Then another.
A few cafés expressed interest in his lettuce and tomatoes, while a small hotel asked whether he could supply fresh vegetables regularly for its kitchen.
The orders were still modest, but they were beginning to form a pattern.
Rian was no longer selling vegetables one basket at a time.
He was becoming a supplier.
And that realization made his steps feel lighter every evening.
---
One afternoon, while returning from another restaurant, Rian noticed a large construction site near the main road.
A new sign had been placed above the building.
RIA JAYA MARKET
Rian stopped walking.
The building was much larger than he expected. Workers were still moving boxes inside, while colorful advertisements announced the supermarket's upcoming opening.
Jojo sat in the shopping basket Rian had brought with him.
"A new supermarket," Rian murmured.
Jojo looked up at the sign.
"Perhaps competition for Merdeka Market."
Rian's eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
"Or an opportunity."
Jojo's ears twitched.
"Now you're thinking properly."
Rian immediately made some inquiries.
It took several phone calls and two visits before he finally managed to arrange a meeting with the supermarket's manager.
His name was Pak Agus.
---
The meeting took place a few days later.
Pak Agus was a younger man than Pak Prabu, but his manner was equally businesslike. He listened carefully as Rian explained his farm and placed several samples on the table.
Pak Agus picked up a Kaisar Chili.
"One hundred and twenty thousand rupiah per kilogram?"
Rian nodded.
"Yes."
Pak Agus raised an eyebrow.
"That's considerably more expensive than ordinary chilies."
"I know."
Rian remained calm.
"But these aren't ordinary chilies."
Pak Agus sliced one open and tasted a small piece.
For a moment, his expression remained neutral.
Then his eyebrows rose.
"The flavor is strong."
"And aromatic."
Pak Agus took another bite.
Rian watched carefully.
His heart was beating faster, but he refused to show it.
Finally, Pak Agus placed the chili down.
"All right. Let's discuss the other products."
Rian opened his notebook.
He had prepared carefully for this moment.
"For premium carrots, eighty-five thousand rupiah per kilogram. Lettuce, sixty thousand. Tomatoes, seventy-five thousand. Cucumbers, sixty-five thousand. Spinach and other premium leafy greens, fifty-five thousand."
Pak Agus studied the list.
"You're positioning everything as premium."
"Because I don't want to compete with ordinary vegetables."
Rian pointed toward the samples.
"My farm is still small. I can't produce thousands of kilograms. So I'd rather sell less at a higher value than flood the market with average products."
Pak Agus leaned back.
There was a long pause.
Rian could almost hear his own heartbeat.
Finally, the manager nodded.
"That's reasonable."
Rian's shoulders relaxed slightly.
"But," Pak Agus continued, "how much can you actually supply?"
Rian hesitated.
This was the difficult part.
His farm had expanded, but it was still nowhere near large enough to support a major supermarket.
"At the moment," he admitted, "I can guarantee twenty kilograms per week for each vegetable."
Pak Agus frowned.
"Only twenty?"
"For each variety."
The manager looked at him again.
"And you can maintain the quality?"
"Yes."
Rian's confidence returned.
"I would rather promise twenty kilograms and deliver twenty kilograms of excellent produce than promise a hundred and disappoint you."
Pak Agus tapped his fingers against the table.
That answer seemed to satisfy him.
"All right. We'll start with twenty kilograms per vegetable per week."
Rian blinked.
"You're serious?"
"Yes. Consider it a trial supply."
A grin slowly spread across Rian's face.
"Thank you, Pak Agus. I won't disappoint you."
Pak Agus smiled faintly.
"I hope not. If your vegetables sell as well as these samples taste, twenty kilograms won't remain twenty for long."
Rian shook his hand firmly.
Inside, excitement surged through him.
Another buyer.
Another source of income.
And, more importantly, another door opening.
---
That evening, Rian sat beneath the porch light, calculating his projected income.
Twenty kilograms of Kaisar Chilies at 120,000 rupiah per kilogram meant 2.4 million rupiah per week from chilies alone.
The carrots could bring another 1.7 million.
Tomatoes would contribute 1.5 million.
Lettuce could bring 1.2 million.
The other vegetables added even more.
If everything went according to plan, the Ria Jaya Market contract could generate several million rupiah every week without counting his restaurant and hotel customers.
Rian stared at the numbers.
"Jojo..."
The cat sat beside him, calmly eating his salmon.
"Yes?"
"We're actually becoming a real business."
Jojo chewed slowly.
"Correction. We are becoming a profitable real business."
Rian laughed.
"Of course you'd correct that."
He looked toward the farm.
Under the moonlight, the enormous plants appeared almost unreal.
But his smile slowly faded.
Something still bothered him.
The mysterious figure.
Someone had been watching his farm.
Someone had seen how quickly his crops grew.
And now that his produce was entering more restaurants, hotels, and supermarkets, the number of people who knew about his farm was increasing.
Rian stared into the darkness beyond the fence.
"Jojo..."
"Hmm?"
"Do you think that person is still watching us?"
Jojo stopped licking his paw.
His ears slowly turned toward the road.
For several seconds, neither of them spoke.
The night was quiet.
Too quiet.
Then Jojo's golden eyes narrowed.
"I don't know."
Rian swallowed.
"But?"
The cat's tail moved once.
"Whoever it is, they haven't stopped."
Rian's smile disappeared completely.
Beyond the fence, something rustled in the darkness.
By the time he stood up and looked toward the road, there was nothing there.
Only the empty street.
And a single footprint pressed into the damp soil.