A cool autumn breeze swept through the street.

The Golden Horn Isolation Zone, adorned with pumpkins and warm lights for Halloween, was filled with a cozy glow.

Orange lights illuminated the street, and I lay on the ground, staring blankly at the sky.

Since I was lying in the middle of a busy street, people with Golden Horns walked by, staring at me, but I had no energy to care.

‘No… My big dream…’

I muttered quietly toward the sky, lost in thought.

The Golden Horn farming was a tragic failure.

At first, I thought the most difficult task would …