Big Catch? (2)
“The handwriting isn’t quite polished yet, but for children who’ve only just begun learning to write, it’s remarkably good.”
“Oh my, is that so? To hear such praise from you, Master Oren, is truly an honor. Hohoho!”
The mothers’ shoulders lifted with pride at the merchant’s compliment after years of trade.
“That said, the drawings are even more impressive than the writing. They look as though they were drawn from life.”
“That’s because they were drawn from life.”
“Pardon?”
“What was it again… The teacher assigned them homework to document the fish and seafood found on Dunbrook Island.”
“Does that mean Dunbrook produces ostrika?”
“Ostrika?”
When the merchant pointed eagerly at one corner of the wooden board, the women nodded.
“Yes, we have oysters. They’re found along the far side of the island.”
“Could I possibly see them? I’d like to confirm whether they truly grow this large!”
“Why the sudden interest in oysters, Master Oren?”
Right on cue, the Village Chief came hurrying over, out of breath.
“Village Chief! You should have told me we had oysters!”
“What? What are you talking about all of a sudden…?”
The Village Chief looked bewildered at the merchant’s words.
“Why are you looking for oysters?”
Though Dunbrook was a small island village, it was far from poor. The abundant sea saw to that. While not overflowing with wealth, there was always enough to eat. The waters teemed with fish, and the shores were littered with shellfish, so starvation was never a concern. Yet few of those marine products fetched a high price. Most of the catch was ordinary fish, and shellfish only traded in small quantities. Shellfish rarely appealed to merchants because of how difficult it was to keep them fresh. Fish could be half-dried, salted, or fermented into paste, but shellfish—aside from the occasional scallop or razor clam—saw little demand.
“Demand for oysters has surged lately, but supply can’t keep up!”
“People are looking for oysters? Why?”
“Well, you see…”
The people of the Empire didn’t particularly care for raw food. Those accustomed to southern customs might seek out raw fish, but eating shellfish raw was almost unheard of.
“…It seems a high-ranking member of the imperial palace has developed a taste for raw oysters. They’re even said to be a secret to marital harmony…”
The merchant glanced at the women before leaning in to whisper into the Village Chief’s ear. The old man’s eyes lit up.
“Good heavens!”
“Especially the large ostrika—no, oysters—fetch prices comparable to premium meat these days.”
“Wait a moment, Master Oren. I have some set aside at home for my own table. Let me show them to you. You can judge whether they have commercial value.”
“Of course!”
The merchant carefully tucked the wooden board away and followed the Village Chief.
“They’re not biting at all today. Damn it.”
At the same moment, Patrick was still stubbornly fishing from the shore, determined to land a monster catch.
“Teacher! Teacher! Look at this!”
“What is it? It better not be nothing.”
Patrick answered half-heartedly, then his eyes widened in surprise. A moment later, he waved his hand dismissively.
“What’s the point of oysters without sauce?”
“Sauce? I don’t know what that is, but these are delicious grilled.”
“They’re good in soup too!”
“Then you eat them. Go on, shoo.”
“You’ll regret it later, you know?”
“Not a chance.”
“Light a fire for us.”
“Tch. Do I look like a flint?”
The children had gathered an armful of oysters. Thanks to the way the shellfish clustered together, even the smallest ones had quickly filled a basket. Patrick, however, wasn’t particularly fond of oysters.
Norovirus is no joke.
In a place without proper medicine, eating raw oysters could easily lead to real trouble.
“Fire!”
“Teacher, you’re amazing! Whoa!”
“It’s fire! Real fire!”
The children gathered twigs with their small hands and set a pot over them. Patrick lit the fire with a simple incantation. It was only a minor spell, barely enough to spark a flame, yet the children never failed to be impressed.
“Wait, we need to add butter first!”
A pat of butter, carefully carried by the child from the only household that kept cows, dropped into the pot, and a rich, savory aroma spread across the shore.
“Now, Ben!”
“Got it!”
Pop!
With a cheerful sound, Ben pulled the cork from a bottle of white wine. Apparently the brewery that produced Sweet Potato Soju also made simple wines.
“Hey. Did you get permission from your parents for this?”
The children had prepared far more thoroughly than usual for an outdoor meal. Patrick couldn’t help but chuckle at the precocious little rascals.
“We told them we were making steamed shellfish with Teacher, so they gave it to us!”
“I’m not even eating. Don’t use my name.”
“Did you think we didn’t know you wouldn’t eat any? But are you really not going to try it? It’s delicious.”
“I’m not eating. You lot finish it.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. Argh, why isn’t anything biting today?”
Patrick grumbled at the innocent fishing rod.
“It’s done!”
While their teacher wrestled with the rod, the steamed oysters with white wine were finished. Though simply prepared without vegetables or herbs, the fresh oysters—creamy from the butter and wine, kissed with salt—were perfect.
“It’s so good!”
“Eat slowly, Tommy. You’ll burn your mouth.”
“Should we make pasta tomorrow? I think I can bring some dried noodles from home.”
“Whoa, that sounds amazing!”
The oysters looked at least half again as large as any Patrick had seen in his previous life, and their shape seemed slightly different too.
They’re not even trying to tempt me.
Patrick glanced sideways at the children, pouting, then folded his fishing rod and sat down beside them.
“I thought you weren’t eating.”
“You put wine in it. I’m just checking whether the alcohol has burned off.”
Ben muttered under his breath, “Excuses… Just admit you want some,” but Patrick ignored it completely.
Slurp—
Patrick lifted an oyster in its shell and swallowed it whole without chewing.
“……!”
His eyes widened, and before he knew it, he had gulped down several more.
“See? I told you it was good.”
“Hey, how did you make this? …Can I have more?”
“There’s plenty. Go ahead.”
A pile of empty shells began to accumulate beside Patrick, who had shamelessly claimed a spot at the table.
Why does this taste so good? Is it because they’re wild? No, the flavor is different somehow. Maybe it’s a different species?
Come to think of it, the shells were thicker, and the shape was somewhat rounder. Whatever the case, one thing was certain—the taste was far more intense than he’d expected. Intense enough to drive even Patrick, who didn’t particularly enjoy shellfish, into a frenzy.
“Our parents eat them with lemon juice, chopped onions, and tomatoes on top.”
“They say it’s delicious that way too.”
“Then pack some for me. I’ll eat them at home.”
“Yes!”
Just as he was feeling pleased with himself for securing dinner, a voice called from afar.
“Teacher!”
“Village Chief?”
The Village Chief, who had come to the shore where Patrick was teaching the children, was accompanied by the merchant. Patrick had been wary when he saw the merchant eyeing the steamed oysters, but once he heard the reason for their visit, he generously offered a piece. The merchant tasted it without refusal, nodded in satisfaction, exchanged a few numbers with the Village Chief, and clasped his hand firmly. A deal had been struck.
“That’s wonderful, Village Chief!”
“Yes, Teacher! It’s all thanks to you! Hahaha!”
“Thanks to me?”
“You gave the children that homework assignment, remember? Master Oren saw their drawings and came to verify.”
“Ah, that…”
“The flavor is rich and the aroma is excellent. I expect they’ll be very popular. Thanks to you, Mage, I’ve gained another valuable trading partner. I’m grateful.”
The elderly merchant also offered his thanks to Patrick.
“Oh, well… I think the ones who deserve the thanks are the children, not me.”
Patrick looked awkward as he glanced at the children, then gently nudged the little ones who were standing there fidgeting.
“I may have given the assignment, but they’re the ones who investigated the habitat and drew the pictures. The thanks should go to them.”
“Ah, I see!”
“As expected of a teacher!”
“Teacher……!”
The children gazed at Patrick with eyes full of respect—perhaps for the very first time—as he shrugged as if it were nothing.
“Then this should go to you all.”
At that moment, the merchant took several silver coins from his pocket. Before anyone could stop him, he began distributing them evenly among the children.
“It’s a reward. Our merchant group always compensates those who provide useful information. Don’t refuse—take it.”
“Whoa! Silver coins! Real silver coins!”
“Are they really silver?”
“I’ve never touched one before!”
The children, who rarely saw money living on the island, made a huge fuss over the silver coins—especially since they weren’t just copper.
“……Teacher?”
Patrick had quietly slipped into the back of the line of children waiting for their coins.
“Now that I think about it, we’re basically a group too.”
“Ah…… Yes, yes. Haha……ha.”
Patrick shamelessly accepted a silver coin.
Does pride put food on the table? Go dig in the ground and see if money comes out.
He was, in a way, remarkably consistent—utterly without shame.
“Ah, by the way…”
“Yes, Mage?”
“Do you also purchase things like bamboo shoots?”
“Bamboo shoots? We don’t handle them unless it’s in large quantities……”
“Ah, I see.”
Patrick’s face fell with disappointment. He had been hoping there might be something else he could sell.
“If it’s something rare, we’ll buy even small amounts, but otherwise the transportation costs outweigh the profit. I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s fine. Can’t be helped.”
Just as he was about to grow sullen at the reality that he had no goods to sell despite this rare opportunity to earn money since his exile, he remembered the mushrooms he had dried behind his house.
“Master Oren, I have some mushrooms I picked and dried. One variety tastes particularly good.”
“Mushrooms? Do you know the name?”
“Not exactly. I’ve heard them called blue mushrooms, though the color is white. Strange, isn’t it? Haha.”
“White, but called blue mushrooms? Could I possibly see them?”
The merchant suddenly looked interested.
“Of course. Follow me. It’s a bit of a walk, but we can chat about life along the way.”
At the good-natured mage’s banter, the elderly merchant burst into hearty laughter.
White but called blue mushrooms, huh. Even if I’m doubtful, it’s worth checking out.
The merchant followed with a mix of hope and skepticism.