Who’s the Teacher? (2)
The children, who had been wrestling with their vocabulary cards, let out a collective “Whoa!” and dashed toward the forest behind the house. “What if a wild animal or monster shows up?” “There aren’t any.” “You sure?” “I’m telling you, there aren’t!” Even with Ben’s reassurance, Patrick followed them into the woods with a lingering thread of doubt in his chest.
Only about ten minutes had passed. The hill wasn’t tall enough to be called a mountain, yet the forest was dense enough to earn the name. Even on an island with fewer than a hundred households, nature wasn’t small. The woods looked exactly like the ones Patrick had only ever seen in documentaries in his previous life.
So the places I used to hike were just trails, not real forests.
How many twenty-first-century city dwellers had ever truly experienced a forest? Even in Korea, where everyone supposedly hiked, most mountains were closer to groomed leisure parks with marked trails and signposts. This place had no paths at all—no trace that humans had ever walked there.
“Kids, I think we can skip the mushrooms. On second thought, clams alone will be plenty. Let’s head back down, okay?” “Aww! We’re almost there!” “Yeah, I know a spot with tons of mushrooms. I’ll show you!”
Patrick, feeling a twinge of unease, pleaded with the children, but they paid him no mind as they bounded through the woods like colts that had slipped their reins.
“Don’t tell me you’re scared, Teacher?” “You’re an adult. And a mage.” “W-who’s scared? I’m worried you’ll get hurt!” “You don’t have to worry about that!” “We’ve been playing here since we were little!” “Waaah! I’m first today!”
The children’s stamina was more than enough to knock out one exercise-deprived mage in an instant.
“Ugh… hack!” Patrick wheezed, clutching his side as dry coughs and dry heaves overtook him.
“Come on, Teacher. We barely went anywhere.” “Are you okay?” “Oh! Over there—on the tree!” “Found it!”
The group split in half. One half cheered at the mushroom clinging to the trunk. The other half gathered around the struggling Patrick with worried faces.
Half of them still have studying to do! Patrick thought, even as he scanned their faces to see who had worried about him. What a petty adult.
“Huff… huff. That’s a mushroom?” “Yeah! It’s huge, right?” “People don’t come around behind your house much, so we only just found it.” “Doesn’t look very tasty…”
Patrick answered half-heartedly. It does look kind of weird. The mushrooms he knew were oyster, pine, button, enoki—the kind sold in supermarket produce sections. Anything else was the poisonous kind that popped up in internet warnings: Don’t eat anything that looks like this.
Bright colors and pretty patterns mean it’s probably poisonous… or was it the opposite? If he’d known he’d be mushroom hunting, he would’ve paid more attention.
“How do you eat that thing?” The mushroom was so large it would take two adult palms to cover it. Patrick never would have spotted it on his own. Nestled between high branches, it looked more like a bird’s nest or a clump of mud. Its dark, dingy color made him wonder why anyone would bother taking it.
“We don’t eat it.” “Then why do you like it?” “We sell it! It’s expensive!” “Huh?” “That’s a Reishi mushroom. The really big ones are worth a lot!” “Yeah! If we take it to the Village Chief, he’ll sell it on the mainland for us.” “He’ll buy us tons of presents too, right?” “Yep. My brother bought a goat with the money from selling one!”
The children chattered excitedly. “A goat?” Patrick immediately pressed himself against the tree trunk. “You’ll let me in on selling this, right? We found it together, okay?”
“……” “Teacher, that’s kind of lame……”
A brief silence fell at the sight of the pathetic adult, but the children were forgiving.
“But can you climb the tree?” “How’s Teacher supposed to get up there? Come down! We’ll pick it!” “Yeah, you’re at the age where bones don’t heal right if you fall.” “They say your body doesn’t move the way you want once you get old!”
The bright-faced children hit him with facts, but instead of defending his pride, Patrick stepped back. “You’re right. It’s better if you go up instead of me. Be careful!”
Surprisingly, it was Ben who volunteered to climb. “Didn’t you say you’re bad at anything physical?” “I am, but I’m good at climbing trees. I’ve done it since I was little.” “Really?”
Ben scaled the trunk with a confident expression, moving like a flying squirrel. “I’m throwing it!” “Okay!” “Aim for the leaves!”
Thud! After a few strikes with a sharp rock, the massive mushroom dropped whole.
“If there’s one this big, doesn’t that mean there are more nearby?” Patrick ventured, recalling something he’d once heard. The children nodded.
“Probably. This one looks like it’s been growing for years.” “Want to look around a bit more before we go?” “Nah. If we take them all at once, they won’t grow back next time.” “Yeah. We shouldn’t be greedy.” “Let’s just find enough for the soup and head back, Teacher!” “Still……”
Even at the children’s words, the worldly adult hesitated to let go. Even if it’s expensive, splitting it equally with the kids… maybe I could buy a chicken or two. The mention of selling mushrooms for a goat had planted regret in his mind.
I should’ve bought chickens instead of books and paper! A few hens would’ve meant eggs every morning, and if they hatched chicks, I could even make soup… Ugh, you idiot!
This was why emotions were dangerous. He’d just thrown away the chance at protein on his table.
Who cares about being a teacher? This is just my lot in life. He’d become a nature-loving hermit and couldn’t even think rationally anymore.
“Oh? Here’s some oyster mushrooms!” “Whoa! We can take these. There’s a bunch!” “Careful when you pick them!” “If there’s extra, we can take some home too!” “Great!”
The children were thrilled by even a handful of oyster mushrooms, oblivious to their teacher’s inner turmoil.
“……What kind of mushroom is this?” Patrick’s eyes fell on a cluster of white mushrooms growing from a fallen log—easily ten of them. “Ben!” “Yes?” “What kind of mushroom is this?” “This? ……I’m not sure.”
Ben, who seemed to know everything about herbs and trees today, tilted his head. The palm-sized white mushrooms didn’t look threatening, but they gave off a pleasant aroma, almost like wild pine mushrooms.
“It’s best not to touch mushrooms you don’t recognize.” “What is it? What is it?”
Just then, one of the children spoke up. “Oh? A blue mushroom!” “A blue one? This is white. More importantly, do you know what this is?” “Yeah! If you dry it somewhere shady with good airflow and grill it, it tastes amazing!” “You’ve eaten it?” “Yes! We haven’t seen them much lately, but my dad said they used to grow here pretty often.” “Really?”
Patrick’s disappointment at not finding more Reishi mushrooms vanished at the thought of obtaining something that might taste as good as pine mushrooms.
***
Adding mushrooms hadn’t dramatically improved the noodle soup’s flavor. Still, the children were proud of having helped make it, so maybe taste wasn’t the most important thing.
More than anything—
“You took the children and found a precious mushroom, I hear?” “We got lucky, Village Chief. Haha!”
While dropping the children off and asking about the mushroom’s price, Patrick had stumbled upon an unexpected windfall.
“Reishi mushrooms vary in value depending on the tree they grow on. I’m no expert, so I can’t say for certain, but based on experience, roughly this much?” “See? I told you!” Ben puffed up with pride—the Village Chief’s estimate matched what he’d said on the way over.
“Um, would this be enough to buy a few chickens?” “Chickens? You’re planning to raise them?” “Yes. It gets lonely living alone.”
Patrick gave an awkward excuse out of embarrassment, but the Village Chief smiled his usual warm smile.
“Then I’ll give you some chickens and chicks from my place right away, Teacher. Once we get the exact price from the merchant, we can settle the difference. How does that sound?” “Is that all right?” “Of course. Our hens lay eggs every single day. If you take good care of them, you won’t have to worry about side dishes.” “Thank you!”
What incredible luck! He’d planned to politely refuse a few times, but refusing chickens—after living on nothing but dried fish—was unthinkable.
“By the way, Teacher, do you know how to build a chicken coop?” “Well, with wire……” “Where would you get wire?” “……”
What a cursed village with no blacksmith! I can’t exactly put leashes on their necks. What do I do?
But an even greater challenge awaited.
Cluck-cluck-cluck! Squawk! Flutter! Flutter!
“Eek!”
Someone once said the closest descendant of dragons was the chicken.
“……I have to carry them myself?” Patrick had no confidence he could bring home those terrifying birds without getting pecked to death.
“Hey, Ben……?” “Yes?” “Could you carry them for me?” “……”
Who knew getting an egg to eat would be this difficult?