Chapter 35
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 35
Chapter Title: Overwintering - 8
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I opened my eyes, and I was the only one left in the bed.
Usually, I was the first to wake up and head off to work, but this was the first time I'd risen later than everyone else.
'Did I overdo it yesterday?'
With that thought in mind, I stepped outside. Everyone was already in the living room, preparing breakfast.
"You're awake?"
"Wow~ Oppa was the last one up today."
Chloe greeted me first, followed by Clia, who flashed a bashful smile as she spoke.
I shared a kiss with Chloe, then stroked Clia's hair while replying.
"Oppa must've been tired from yesterday."
"Stop tormenting Mom like you did yesterday. If you keep it up, I'll get mad at you, Oppa."
"Uh... okay."
Clia had mistaken the moans she'd overheard yesterday for the sounds of me hitting Sylvia.
Apparently Sylvia hadn't given her any separate sex education, leaving innocent Clia so naive that I struggled to respond. I glanced at Chloe for help, but she blushed and averted her eyes.
Honey...
"Clia, don't tease Sian. It was Mom's fault yesterday."
Sylvia stepped in like a savior. She offered a bright smile and her morning greeting.
"Sian, good morning."
"Good morning."
Then she kissed me, flashed a seductive smile, and returned to preparing breakfast.
Seeing that, Clia widened her eyes and started pleading with me.
"Kiss me too! You do it with Sis and Mom—why not me?!"
"Clia..."
Watching my affection-starved sister-in-law, a fifteen—no, sixteen-year-old girl, I let out a sigh.
...
Before breakfast, I stopped by Elsia's room first.
"Elsia, good morning."
"Good morning, Sian-nim."
"Sian oppa, good morning."
"Good morning, Elin too."
Unlike Sylvia, who was positively glowing, Elsia showed some signs of fatigue.
"Didn't sleep well last night?"
"Yes... my back is a little sore."
"Sorry..."
"It's fine. No need to worry."
Our conversation was choppy and curt.
As always, talking with Elsia outside of bed turned into these static, subdued exchanges.
Accepting it as her personality, I approached her and stole a kiss from her lips.
Elin, who was nearby, jumped in surprise and quietly slipped away. If only Clia were that perceptive.
Elsia's face flushed as she grumbled softly.
"...So sudden in the morning."
"You like it too, don't you, Elsia?"
Aside from Chloe, I wasn't very affectionate with my lover Sylvia or my concubine Elsia.
Maybe it was my past life's Confucian mindset, but outside of nighttime duties, I wasn't proactive.
But after yesterday, I'd changed my thinking.
As the head of the household, I needed to take charge to keep the family atmosphere good and ease their worries.
So I had to make a point of showing them I loved them. Like this.
"Elsia, I've got a ring for you too, so look forward to it."
"Yes..."
At my promise, Elsia gave a faint smile—perhaps the first time I'd ever seen it.
"Ah..."
Elin had been peeking from outside; our eyes met, and she bolted away in a fluster.
...
The smell of iron and the crackle of burning firewood.
I arrived at the village's only blacksmith shop to meet Tom. A freckled, red-haired seventeen-year-old girl greeted me none too warmly.
"Why're you here?"
"Hey, Petra. Where's Tom?"
"In the back room. That old coot drank like a fish yesterday and is sleeping it off."
"Haha, that's no way to talk about your father..."
"Butt out."
Petra grumbled at my comment before returning to the furnace.
Just like always, she was practicing the metallurgy she'd picked up peeking over Tom's shoulder. But without formal training, even I—a total amateur—could tell it wasn't going well.
"Argh, damn it again..."
"Wasting firewood like that—shouldn't you get proper training from Tom first?"
"I said butt out."
"Sorry, but I've got a personality that can't help but worry."
Tom was my key ally in the village. If he ran out of firewood because of her, it'd be a headache for me.
And it was winter now. Needlessly burning firewood was a bad idea.
"Metals are finicky about temperature. Get it wrong, and they come out wrong."
"I know."
Irritated, Petra hammered the iron she'd pulled from the furnace, probably quenching it.
The hammer strikes had a somewhat steady rhythm, but whether from lack of strength or skill, the shaping was uneven.
After repeating the process a few times and ending up with a misshapen mess, Petra clicked her tongue.
"Tch."
"So, what were you trying to make?"
"None of your business."
"I'm curious."
I've been watching a while—can't you at least tell me?
"But even if you did, I wouldn't get it. What can you even call this?"
"Ah! If you're gonna nag like that old man, get lost."
Petra snapped at my pointing it out. I'd be pissed if some kid younger than me talked back like that, but in this world, seventeen was adulthood, so I had to treat her like one. Wait, eighteen now?
'Well, at least it's not like Joseon, where fifteen made you an adult.'
Either way, for the sake of this girl pointlessly wasting materials, I offered some adult advice.
Petra looked displeased at first, but since my version took proper shape unlike hers, she listened quietly.
With the steady clang-clang of hammer on metal, a rough dagger-like object took form.
"Did you learn the technique from the old man?"
"Just the basics."
"Tch, talent, huh."
"What're you on about? It's not like this is my first or second day at it."
Work was something I'd done to the point of nausea in my past life too—if I didn't have this level of handiwork, I'd be better off dead.
"It's about knack, knack. Petra, you need to build that up first."
"Yeah, yeah. Got your nagging loud and clear."
Petra picked up her hammer again and started on something new.
"You're still short on strength, so don't aim too big. Try something small like a dagger, like I did."
"I got it."
"Hammer with rhythm."
"I know. Quit nagging."
Petra grumbled, but she improved with every pointer I gave.
Better than before.
"Whew... one done."
"Better than last time."
It was crude, but with a clear shape finally achieved, Petra broke into the bright smile of any girl her age.
"Mm... Petra burning more materials?"
"Hey, Tom."
"Oho, Sian. Here for the bow? I told you I'd bring it over."
"Haha, it's a gift—you expect me to not come pick it up myself?"
The now-awake Tom greeted me warmly.
"Alright, wanna knock back some beer while you're here? I've still got some from last year!"
"Day drinking's a bit much..."
"It's winter anyway—no work to do!"
As Petra had said, Tom was still buzzing from yesterday's booze. He bear-hugged me, dragged me to the living room, and pressed a beer on me.
No helping it—I sipped the beer he offered and chatted with Tom. Occasionally, I'd munch on snacks Petra brought over to wet my whistle.
Eventually, Tom handed me the bow he'd made.
Crafted mainly from blackwood, the jet-black bow looked far more premium than the one I already owned.
"The finest masterpiece among all the bows I've ever made!"
"I can tell how incredible it is at a glance, no need to say it."
I plucked the bowstring to test its performance.
'Might be a tad heavy for Leon to handle right away.'
True to its Yeti-tendon string, the tension was excellent. And surprisingly for blackwood, the limbs bent beautifully.
What kind of wizardry is this?
"Puhaha, wondering about the elasticity?"
"Yeah. How'd you manage it?"
"Heh, stumbled on it by chance while making the bow."
True to form as a craftsman with endless material curiosity, Tom launched into a grand explanation of his blackwood breakthrough.
Blackwood—what is it that its uses just keep piling up?
"And that's how you get elasticity like this."
"Impressive."
I couldn't help but be awed by Tom's explanation. Past-life knowledge or not, I couldn't even hand my business card to a real artisan like him.
"Thank you. I'll put this bow to good use."
"You're not the one using it anyway."
"Still makes future hunts smoother, doesn't it?"
"Hearing you say that makes me happy."
"Next time I visit, I'll bring the first game caught with it."
"No need. With your big family, look after your own first."
"Come on, Tom—you know I'm a capable guy, right?"
"Kuh... true. Still regret not marrying her off to you."
"Haha, Petra's still young, isn't she?"
"Young... she'll be eighteen next year, no suitors in sight... when's she gonna marry and give me grandkids..."
"You old fart... cut the weird talk."
Petra blushed and jabbed a finger at Tom, whose words were edging into lament territory.
Looked like another fight brewing, so I stepped in to mediate.
"Don't worry too much. Tom, Petra's working hard."
"Working hard? Wasting materials every damn day."
"If it's such a waste, why not teach her the skills?"
"Petra couldn't handle it. Women just don't have the arm strength."
"But her handiwork looked solid earlier. With that meticulous personality, she could make small stuff well."
"Still..."
"If strength's the issue, solve it another way. That can come later—and skilled women are popular marriage material."
"You too?"
"Me? Obviously."
I answered Tom's question without a second thought.
The goal here was persuading Tom. Better to just agree.
"If that's how you see it, fine."
"So...?"
"Yeah. Petra, come spring, I'll teach you the blacksmith trade."
"Tch—ignores me when I say it..."
"What was that?"
"Haha, she says great."
Startled by Petra's grumble, I clapped a hand over her mouth.
Hey, take it when he offers!
Sensing my wordless glare, Petra blushed and looked away.