A Close Call (1)
“You nearly gave us a heart attack, sir!”
When Patrick came to, the children and the Village Chief’s faces filled his vision.
“Even in spring, you can’t take the sun lightly.”
“I got a little too enthusiastic and… ouch! My head!”
“You’ll probably feel like this all day. Thank goodness the children found you so quickly…”
“Sir! You really didn’t drink a single drop of water all morning?”
“We already knew that!”
“Exactly. If you sweat, you have to drink water too!”
“Especially someone as scrawny and weak-looking as you, sir!”
“Please don’t get sick, sir!”
Somewhere in the middle, one of their comments felt like a trap card had been played, so Patrick shot them a “just you wait” gesture.
“An empty stomach will only make the dizziness worse.”
“What’s this?”
“You need to eat something. My wife made some potato stew. She used extra milk, so it should be easy on your stomach.”
Patrick’s face twisted without thinking—potatoes again? If Halmae had seen him, she would have smacked him with a spoon, scolding, “We saved a collapsed man and he’s already complaining about the food.”
Still, the Village Chief’s character was on another level compared to Patrick’s. Even seeing that expression, he simply laughed it off warmly. Patrick couldn’t imagine someone petty enough to flick a child on the forehead for an innocent remark.
Slurp—
Unable to ignore their kindness, he took a sip. His eyes widened.
“……!”
What on earth? It looked like nothing more than plain, mushy potato paste, yet it tasted exactly like the soup his mother used to make. Of course, that was an illusion. NEW Patrick’s mother had never made anything resembling soup except for instant OX soup.
Truth aside, Patrick was genuinely moved.
How can potatoes taste this good?
The stew had just the right amount of fluffy potato texture. The savory flavor probably came from stir-frying and mashing the potatoes, but where did that natural sweetness come from?
Sugar? No… it feels more natural than that.
He couldn’t believe how powerful properly caramelized onions could be. When the hidden, salty bacon bits at the bottom joined in, he could almost feel the nourishment soaking into his frail body that had collapsed from exhaustion.
Good thing I told her to season it a little saltier. Look how well he’s eating.
The Village Chief smiled contentedly as he watched the capital-born wizard practically pour the soup straight from the bowl into his mouth. Nothing won adults over faster than someone eating with obvious relish. In that sense, Patrick was adapting quite well to island life.
“Next time you work in the fields, put a little salt or sugar in your water. Or I can give you some jam to mix in if you’d like.”
“Thank you so much! But what kind of jam…?”
“Haha! My wife has made quite a few varieties. Everyone says the raspberry and fig jams are the best. Come down to the village tomorrow and stop by our house.”
“Thank you, Village Chief! I’ve been craving something sweet lately anyway.”
Patrick accepted the offer without hesitation, then scratched his head as he looked around his nearly empty room.
“I wish I had something to give in return… Ah! I was supposed to give you this! I’ve been so out of it lately that I completely forgot.”
“Pardon? What is this…?”
Patrick grunted as he carried over a sack he had tied up beside the table. The Village Chief peered inside, and his eyes widened once he realized what it was.
Rectangular wooden plaques, each a little larger than an adult’s palm—roughly a hundred of them.
“Everyone’s been so good to me. I figured I ought to give something back.”
“……S-Sir!”
The Village Chief opened and closed his mouth several times before grabbing Patrick’s hand firmly.
“Everyone will be overjoyed!”
“I hope they like them, even if they’re nothing special.”
The next day.
It’s nice being able to sleep in like this since the kids aren’t coming.
The Village Chief had told the children not to bother Patrick until he had fully recovered. Thanks to that, Patrick had slept without a care in the world.
The rooster crowed at dawn as usual, but whether from accumulated fatigue or because he had finally adapted, Patrick remained fast asleep.
“I’m hungry.”
He could have slept longer, but it was nearly lunchtime, and his stomach had woken him.
“But I don’t feel like cooking… Hmm— Maybe I should just head down to the village and mooch a meal?”
After eating that Level 99 potato stew yesterday, his body could no longer be satisfied with plain boiled potatoes.
Should I visit the Village Chief’s house?
Curry, black bean noodles, beef bone soup—what did these dishes have in common? That people of all ages loved them? That you didn’t need any other side dishes once you had them? Both were true, but there was an even more fundamental similarity.
They’re never made in single servings!
How many Koreans had never eaten the same pot of stew for an entire week? Beef bone soup or potato stew—it’s all the same, isn’t it? It looked perfect for making in one big pot. And mothers everywhere, across time and cultures, worried about side dishes. So Patrick was certain the Village Chief’s wife hadn’t made just one bowl of stew for him yesterday afternoon and then put everything away.
“Going empty-handed feels wrong… Should I at least pick some flowers?”
Even without money, wildflowers bloomed all around. Making a bouquet would be easy. Unfortunately, he had no scissors, so he grabbed a small knife and started cutting flowers. It didn’t take long for him to realize something.
Don’t tell me I have a black thumb?
The flowers that had looked so vibrant and beautiful on the stem seemed to lose their color and wilt the moment they touched his hands. Was that just his imagination?
“Tsk—!”
In the end, he had no choice but to head into the bamboo grove and dig up a few bamboo shoots instead.
“Sir!”
“Oh my, thank you, sir!”
“Thank you, sir! My father was so happy!”
As he approached the village, several residents working in the fields or tending livestock greeted him with thanks. Patrick bowed awkwardly—uncharacteristically bashful—and quickened his pace.
Why are they so happy about something like that? It’s embarrassing.
Wiping his nose, he headed toward the Village Chief’s house in the center of the village. The grateful greetings continued the whole way. The villagers were all deeply moved, especially the older adults, who looked almost overwhelmed with emotion.
“You’ve arrived, sir. The jam is already prepared. Please come in.”
The weight of everyone’s gazes had made him uncomfortable, so stepping inside the Village Chief’s house brought some relief.
“Sir! How did you even think of something like this? As expected of someone from the capital—your thoughtfulness is nothing like the men on this island!”
“It’s nothing, ma’am. Ah, here. It’s nothing special, but the bamboo shoots are in season.”
“Oh my! I was just thinking of picking and pickling some. Thank you!”
The Village Chief’s wife accepted the bamboo shoots with delight.
She’s being polite.
A few bamboo shoots weren’t anything remarkable to the villagers. Patrick smiled faintly, realizing she was simply being considerate so he wouldn’t feel embarrassed.
Grumble—
At that moment, his stomach betrayed him loudly. He had eaten a bowl of potato stew for an early dinner and then slept until noon, so of course he was hungry. And he had been running around on an empty stomach while picking flowers and digging up bamboo shoots.
“Would you like to have lunch before you go? We don’t have much, but adding one more spoon to the table isn’t difficult.”
“Is that all right? Thank you so much. Um… do you happen to have any of that potato stew from yesterday?”
“Oh my! You must have liked it, sir. Ho ho! Of course. I made plenty. I’ll pack some for you along with the jam.”
“I feel bad, but I’ll accept. It was the best soup I’ve ever had! I kept thinking about it this morning and couldn’t focus.”
“Ohoho! Eat as much as you like, sir. Would you like some of this too?”
The Village Chief puffed out his chest with a proud expression. No husband disliked hearing praise for his wife’s cooking. The sister compliment to that was, “Wow, your family’s kimchi is incredible.”
Knock knock—!
While Patrick was inhaling his second bowl of potato stew, a visitor arrived at the Village Chief’s house.
“Village Chief, are you in?”
“Who is it?”
“It’s me, Luca!”
“Oh, come in. What brings you here?”
The neighbor removed his hat and hesitated before holding out a wrapped bundle.
“Here… I heard the teacher was visiting. This is……”
The man, who spoke with a slightly unusual accent that suggested he wasn’t originally from the island, took off his hat and bowed to Patrick, who was sitting at the table.
“Ah, hello!”
“S-Sir! I’m not sure if you’ll like this…”
“Pardon? This is for me?”
“It’s not really payment for the memorial tablet, but I wanted to give you something. Actually, tomorrow is my mother’s death anniversary…… Now that we have a proper tablet at home, my mother won’t get lost on her way here, right?”
The man’s face was a strange mix of holding back tears and looking relieved, as if a burden had been lifted.
“I’m uneducated, so I couldn’t even tell if the tablet was made properly…… But it wasn’t just anyone—it was a wizard teacher from the capital who made such a fine tablet for my mother. I don’t know how to thank you enough……”
Before long, the man had sat down in the doorway of someone else’s house and begun to sob.