The sixty thousand rupiah in Rian’s hand felt strangely heavy. He stood in the doorway long after Mrs. Wijoyo had disappeared down the street, staring at the money as though it might vanish if he blinked. Two giant heads of lettuce. Sixty thousand rupiah. It wasn't a fortune. It wouldn't pay off his electricity bill, his debts, or magically turn his tiny house into a mansion. But it was the first money he had ever earned from something he had grown himself. Rian slowly closed his fingers around the bills. “We actually sold something.” Jojo sat beside the doorway, washing one paw with exaggerated calm. “Yes.” “Do you understand what this means?” “Yes.” “We have a business.” “No.” Rian frowned. “What do you mean, no?” “We have two vegetables and sixty thousand rupiah.” Jojo licked his paw. “That is not a business. That is a promising beginning.” Rian stared at him. “You could have said that without destroying my excitement.” “I could have.” Jojo paused. “But then I wouldn't be Jojo.” Rian sighed. Unfortunately, the cat had a point. He looked toward the backyard. The remaining giant lettuce plants were still standing proudly in the tiny patch of soil. Their enormous leaves seemed almost ridiculous compared to the cramped surroundings. Rian scratched his chin. They had discovered something incredible. But discovering something incredible and turning it into a sustainable business were two completely different things. He couldn't rely on one tiny backyard forever. And more importantly, he couldn't keep using the serum without understanding how to replenish it. His eyes drifted toward the antique trash can sitting quietly inside the kitchen. The glowing green liquid inside had already dropped noticeably. That worried him. Very much. “Jojo.” “Yes?” “We need more organic waste.” Jojo stopped grooming himself. “Correct.” “And we need more land.” “Also correct.” “And we need money.” “Finally, a statement containing wisdom.” Rian rolled his eyes. “So our first goal is simple.” Jojo raised an eyebrow. “Which is?” “Sell everything we can grow.” Jojo nodded. “Now you're thinking like a businessman.” Rian smiled. Then his expression became serious. “But we can't sell all of it to neighbors.” “Why not?” “Because there aren't enough neighbors.” Jojo looked around the small neighborhood. “True. Unless you intend to force them to eat lettuce for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.” Rian imagined it. His neighbor opening the door every morning to find him standing there with another enormous head of lettuce. Please buy this. The image was horrifying. “No.” “Good.” Rian rubbed his chin. “Then we need a bigger market.” Jojo's ears perked up. “The traditional market.” Rian's eyes widened. “Pasar.” “Exactly.” Rian had passed through several markets in Semarang countless times. They were always crowded, noisy, and full of vendors selling vegetables, fruits, meat, spices, and prepared food. If he wanted to become a real farmer, that was where he needed to go. But there was one problem. He didn't know anything about selling vegetables. He had never even negotiated the price of tomatoes. “How do farmers normally sell their produce?” “Poorly, if they don't understand the market.” Rian stared at him. “You know a lot for a cat.” “I've spent years observing humans.” “And?” “You are remarkably predictable.” Rian ignored the insult. He began making a list. Seeds. Soil. Water. Organic waste. Transportation. Market fees. Packaging. Capital. He stared at the list. Then he stared at his sixty thousand rupiah. “That isn't enough.” Jojo glanced at the money. “No.” Rian's shoulders dropped. “We're poor farmers.” “For now.” “Very poor farmers.” “Technically, you are a farmer with magical fertilizer.” “That doesn't make me feel better.” “It should.” Rian sighed. “Fine. Then we'll start small.” --- The next morning, Rian woke before sunrise. For the first time in years, he wasn't waking because of an overdue bill notification. He was waking because he had work to do. He walked into the backyard with a bucket, a pair of old sandals, and a determination that surprised even himself. The first thing he did was inspect the remaining lettuce. They were still growing. Slowly. Not as explosively as when the serum had first been introduced, but noticeably. That gave him an idea. He couldn't afford to waste the serum. If the serum could accelerate growth, then perhaps he didn't need to use much. A tiny amount might be enough. That meant he could stretch his supply. “Jojo.” The orange cat appeared on the fence. “What?” “I think we've been using too much.” Jojo looked at the lettuce. “Agreed.” “The first batch grew overnight.” “Yes.” “But perhaps that isn't necessary.” “Correct.” Rian crouched beside the soil. “We don't need gigantic vegetables every time.” Jojo tilted his head. “Now you're understanding efficiency.” Rian smiled. “What if we use a much smaller amount?” “That would be advisable.” “And let the plants grow naturally after that?” “An experiment worth conducting.” Rian nodded. That became their first rule. The serum was not fertilizer to be poured freely. It was a resource. A precious resource. Something they needed to conserve. Rian took a small spoon and carefully measured the liquid. One spoonful. He diluted it with water. Then he used the mixture on a small section of newly prepared soil. He planted lettuce seeds. Next to them, he planted spinach. Then mustard greens. Finally, he planted carrots. Different crops. Different growth rates. Different market values. Rian stepped back. “This is our test farm.” Jojo jumped onto a nearby brick. “Experimental agriculture.” “Test farm sounds less pretentious.” “Your terminology reflects your education.” “Are you insulting me?” “Yes.” “Okay.” Rian continued working. For the next several days, he did something he hadn't done in years. He worked consistently. Every morning, he checked the soil. Every afternoon, he watered the plants. He removed weeds. He recorded growth. He measured how much serum he used. He even started keeping notes about which plants responded best. The results were fascinating. The diluted serum worked. But not every plant reacted in exactly the same way. Lettuce grew quickly and developed enormous, crisp leaves. Spinach became thick and intensely green. Mustard greens grew faster than normal and produced unusually large leaves. Carrots took longer. But when Rian finally pulled one from the soil, he nearly fell backward. The carrot was nearly as long as his forearm. He stared at it. Jojo stared at it. Rian slowly held it up. “Jojo.” “Yes?” “This carrot is bigger than my dignity.” Jojo examined it. “That is not a difficult achievement.” Rian lowered the carrot. “Why are you like this?” “Because you continue providing opportunities.” Despite himself, Rian laughed. For the first time, farming didn't feel like desperation. It felt like a game. A strange, dangerous, potentially profitable game. And he was beginning to enjoy it. --- Four days later, their backyard looked completely different. It was still tiny. Still cramped. Still surrounded by old walls and cracked concrete. But now it was filled with green. Rows of vegetables grew neatly across the soil. Rian had even built simple bamboo supports using discarded materials. Nothing was perfect. But it was organized. More importantly, it was producing. Rian stood in the middle of the garden with his notebook. He had written down everything. Growth time. Serum quantity. Plant size. Taste. Appearance. Estimated selling price. He even had a column titled: “Can Jojo eat it?” Jojo had added that himself. Rian tapped the notebook. “We need a product.” “We already have vegetables.” “No. I mean a signature product.” Jojo looked interested. “Explain.” “If we go to the market with ordinary vegetables, nobody cares.” “True.” “But if we have something special...” Rian pointed toward the largest lettuce. “People remember it.” Jojo's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “The giant lettuce.” “Exactly.” “Too large may attract suspicion.” “Then not ridiculously large.” Rian thought for a moment. “Big enough to stand out, but not so big that people think it came from another planet.” Jojo nodded. “A reasonable balance.” Rian wrote something down. Signature Product: Super Crispy Giant Lettuce. He looked at the name. “Sounds good.” “No.” “Why?” “Too generic.” Rian crossed it out. “Miracle Lettuce?” “Too suspicious.” “Premium Emerald Lettuce?” “Pretentious.” “Jojo Lettuce?” “Absolutely not.” Rian grinned. “You're afraid the lettuce will become more famous than you.” “I am concerned about brand dilution.” Rian laughed. Eventually, they settled on something simple. Emerald Crisp Lettuce. It wasn't magical. It didn't mention the serum. It sounded like an expensive premium vegetable. And most importantly, it gave them something they could build a reputation around. --- The next problem was the market. Rian washed the vegetables carefully. He trimmed damaged leaves. He selected only the best specimens. Then he wrapped them in clean plastic. The giant lettuce looked impressive even without the magic. Rian packed them into several crates. He counted them. Ten heads of lettuce. Eight bundles of spinach. Six bundles of mustard greens. A dozen carrots. It wasn't much compared to the market vendors. But for Rian, it was enormous. He borrowed an old motorcycle from a neighbor and tied the crates securely to the back. Before leaving, he looked at Jojo. “You're coming.” Jojo blinked. “To the market?” “Yes.” “Why?” “You're my business partner.” “I am also a cat.” “Exactly. People like cats.” “That is the first intelligent thing you've said today.” Rian pointed at him. “Don't wander off.” Jojo jumped onto the motorcycle seat. “I have no intention of doing so.” Rian stared. “How are you planning to ride?” Jojo sat upright. “I'm management.” Rian covered his face. “Of course you are.” --- The market was already alive when they arrived. The air was thick with the smell of vegetables, spices, fried food, fish, and motorbike exhaust. Vendors shouted prices. Customers bargained. Plastic bags rustled. Carts squeaked. Rian immediately felt intimidated. He had never been a market seller before. He found an empty space where a small vendor was willing to let him sell for the day. Rian arranged his vegetables carefully. At first, nobody paid attention. People walked past. Some glanced at the produce. Then kept walking. Rian's confidence began to collapse. “Maybe this was a bad idea.” Jojo sat beneath the table. “Your vegetables are not bad.” “Then why isn't anyone buying them?” “Because you haven't told them why they should.” Rian blinked. He looked at the lettuce. Then at the customers. He suddenly understood. People didn't just buy vegetables. They bought stories. They bought quality. They bought trust. Rian stood up. He picked up the largest lettuce. “Fresh lettuce!” A few people turned. “Fresh, local lettuce! Grown this week!” More people glanced over. Rian raised the lettuce higher. “Look at this size!” A woman stopped. “How much?” Rian's heart jumped. “Twenty thousand.” She frowned. “Twenty thousand for one?” Rian hesitated. Then remembered the size. “Yes.” The woman examined it. She pressed the leaves. Then smelled it. Finally, she nodded. “Fifteen.” Rian froze. His first negotiation. Jojo whispered from underneath the table. “Do not panic.” Rian whispered back. “I'm not panicking.” “You are sweating.” “It's hot.” “Your hands are shaking.” “It's... market humidity.” Jojo sighed. “Twenty.” The woman countered. “Seventeen.” Rian looked at the lettuce. Then at the woman. “Eighteen.” “Seventeen.” “Eighteen.” “Seventeen.” Rian clenched his jaw. “Fine.” The woman smiled. “Deal.” She handed him seventeen thousand rupiah. Rian gave her the lettuce. She walked away. Rian stared at the money. Jojo poked his head out. “Congratulations.” “I just lost three thousand.” “You made seventeen thousand.” Rian paused. “Right.” He smiled. “That actually feels good.” And then something unexpected happened. The woman came back. “Excuse me.” Rian turned. “Is there a problem?” “No.” She held up the lettuce. “My husband tasted a leaf.” “And?” “He wants another one.” Rian's eyes widened. “Another?” “Yes.” She bought another. Then another customer approached. Then another. Word spread slowly. The lettuce was unusually crisp. Sweet. Fresh. Its leaves remained firm even after being carried around. Soon, people were asking where it came from. “Local garden,” Rian answered. “How do you grow it?” “With natural methods.” “What fertilizer?” Rian smiled awkwardly. “Very natural fertilizer.” Jojo looked away. By noon, half of the lettuce was gone. By early afternoon, the spinach was sold out. The mustard greens followed. Only a few carrots remained. Rian sat behind his table, staring at the empty crates. He couldn't believe it. He had actually sold his vegetables. Not to wealthy socialites. Not through some mysterious business connection. Just ordinary people at an ordinary market. And they liked his produce. That meant something. It meant he didn't need to become famous overnight. He just needed to produce good food. Consistently. Rian counted his earnings. He smiled. “Jojo.” “Yes?” “We made more than yesterday.” “Obviously.” “And tomorrow we can bring more.” “Correct.” “And if we sell more every day—” “Then eventually you will have enough money to expand.” Rian's smile grew wider. He looked at the market. Then at the remaining vegetables. Then at the notebook in his pocket. His plan was beginning to take shape. First, sell vegetables. Second, save the profits. Third, find a larger piece of land. Fourth, increase production. Fifth, become the most reliable supplier of premium vegetables in the area. And perhaps, someday... Build a real farm. A farm large enough to employ people. A farm with greenhouses. Irrigation. Storage. Delivery trucks. Maybe even his own brand. But there was another problem. The serum. Rian's smile faded. He could feel the weight of that thought returning. The antique trash can was still at home. And every time he used the liquid, the level dropped. If they wanted to expand, they needed more serum. And if they needed more serum... They needed more organic waste. Lots of it. Rian looked at the piles of vegetable scraps scattered around the market. Wilted lettuce. Carrot tops. Banana peels. Damaged tomatoes. Cabbage leaves. Fruit skins. To everyone else, it was garbage. To Rian, it suddenly looked like gold. His eyes widened. “Jojo.” The cat followed his gaze. “Oh.” Rian slowly smiled. “You see it too?” Jojo's tail flicked. “I do.” Rian stood. “We don't have to buy fertilizer.” “No.” “We don't have to buy organic waste.” “No.” “And the market throws away tons of it every day.” Jojo's eyes gleamed. “Now you're thinking like a proper businessman.” Rian grinned. He approached one of the market workers cleaning vegetable scraps. “Excuse me.” The worker looked at him. “What?” Rian pointed toward the pile of discarded vegetables. “Can I take that?” The worker looked confused. “The trash?” “Yes.” “You want to take the trash?” Rian nodded enthusiastically. “Exactly.” The worker stared at him. Then shrugged. “Take it.” Rian smiled. He looked at Jojo. Jojo looked at him. Neither of them said anything. They both knew what this meant. The market had just given them their next business opportunity. Free raw material. And lots of it. That evening, Rian returned home with crates filled not with vegetables to sell... but with garbage. Jojo sat on top of one crate. Rian placed another beside him. “Tomorrow,” Rian said, looking at the mountain of organic waste, “we make more serum.” Jojo's baritone voice rumbled softly. “And then?” Rian looked toward their tiny garden. “We plant.” He looked at the money in his pocket. “We sell.” Then he looked toward the empty patch of land beside his house. “And we save enough to buy something bigger.” Jojo nodded. “A reasonable plan.” Rian smiled. For the first time, the tiny house no longer felt like a prison. It felt like the headquarters of something. Something small. Something ridiculous. Something potentially enormous. But neither Rian nor Jojo noticed the pair of eyes watching them from across the street. Mrs. Wijoyo stood behind her curtains. In one hand, she held the giant lettuce she had bought earlier. She had tasted it. She had called several friends. And now she was looking at Rian's house with growing suspicion. Her eyes shifted toward the crates of vegetable scraps. “Why,” she murmured, “would a poor young man be collecting garbage like that?” Her gaze narrowed. Something about Rian's sudden success didn't make sense. And Mrs. Wijoyo had never been the type of woman to ignore something that didn't make sense. Meanwhile, inside the house, Rian opened the lid of the antique trash can. The green liquid inside glowed faintly. He smiled. “Let's see how much magic we can make from garbage.” Jojo sat beside him. “Finally.” The cat's eyes gleamed in the emerald light. “Now we're getting serious.”

CHAPTER 5 — The First Harvest, The First Market