What Kind of Place is the Eastern Continent? (1)
“Why? Why is everyone acting like this?”
Patrick was the one flustered by the reaction. What on earth is going on with them?
The timid villagers had collapsed to the floor without so much as a scream, trembling and weeping. Those who could have fled were instead cowering behind whatever cover they could find, staring at him with eyes full of terror.
“Please, why are you all doing this?” Patrick asked again and again, but no one dared answer.
Finally, Ben raised a shaking hand and pointed. “T-Teacher!”
“Y-yes?”
“W-what is that thing?”
“What do you mean?”
Patrick slowly turned his head in the direction Ben indicated. At first he saw nothing unusual—at least, nothing that stood out to him.
“Why is there a pig’s head over there?!”
“……Huh?”
Only then did the grinning pig’s head come into focus.
“What about it?”
For an ancestral rite you needed a pig’s head, didn’t you? You were also supposed to offer a few coins.
“S-Sir…… were you really a black mage all along?”
“I never sensed anything like that……! How could someone so gentle and clumsy possibly be one of those vile black mages?”
“Don’t tell me that bumbling, slightly dim-witted act was all an act!”
“Good heavens! I actually believed he was just some naïve country boy!”
Once Ben broke the silence, the tension eased enough for the other villagers to chime in one after another.
……I’d rather they just cursed at me. Or are they already doing that?
Patrick felt a pang of unease at their words. He had thought he was at least regarded as a respected intellectual in the village, if not quite its mascot. Instead, it sounded as though they saw him as little more than a pitiful young man.
I’ll work on fixing my image later. First things first……
The immediate problem was clearing up the misunderstanding. One wrong move and they might drag him back to the tribunal on charges of being a remnant of the black mages. And if that happened, the only possible ending was a swift beheading. He couldn’t let it come to that.
“W-wait a moment! Black magic? What are you saying?!”
“B-but Teacher! You cut off a pig’s head and put it on the table! And it’s smiling! Aaaah! It’s terrifying!”
Ben’s trembling voice finally broke into sobs. No matter how hard he tried to act grown-up, he was still a child. He had clearly wanted to stand by Patrick until the very end, yet the fear had overwhelmed him.
“That’s not what this is! A smiling pig is a symbol of abundance and prosperity, that’s all!”
“Which is exactly why it’s black magic!”
“It is not black magic! It’s just a simple ancestral rite. You know how people at the temple offer fruit and lamb? It’s the same thing!”
“……Really?”
“Have you been living under a rock? Call a spirit. It’ll confirm everything.”
Spirits were the very embodiment of nature itself. As the essence of natural power, they could detect any artificial distortion far more accurately than any spell. Black magic in particular provoked an instinctive revulsion in them, which was why spiritists were considered indispensable when hunting black mages.
Poof!
“Um, sorry to bother you, but could you check if that’s some kind of black magic ingredient or curse……?”
— Black magic?
The spirit appeared beside the overturned table. Everyone held their breath, waiting for its answer. If it declared, “That is indeed black magic,” how were they supposed to respond?
Do we have to capture our own teacher?
Dear gods, why would you send us such a trial?!
A few devout villagers began praying to their respective deities.
— That’s a pig’s head.
The spirit’s reply was as cheerful as ever.
“……What?”
— It’s a pig’s head. A nicely boiled one. Don’t you know what a pig’s head is, Ben?
“……So it’s not black magic?”
— Black magic? Ahaha! What a funny thing to say, Ben. What kind of black magic could you possibly work with a boiled pig’s head?
“B-but…… Maybe you’re right.”
Now that he thought about it, the spirit was correct. The pig’s head wasn’t talking or hopping around on its own. It was simply shocking, grotesque, and bizarre to look at.
“Then why did you bring something like that here and cause such a misunderstanding?! You made all the children cry!”
Now that the misunderstanding had been cleared, Ben shouted at the top of his lungs. Even while scolding, he still referred to the other children as “friends,” which suggested he was embarrassed about having burst into tears himself.
“S-so it really isn’t black magic, Ben?”
“No, Village Chief. I don’t think it is.”
The villagers who had been hiding behind trees and under benches finally let out sighs of relief and crept back toward Patrick—though none of them could bring themselves to look directly at the pig’s head.
Was it really that shocking?
In a world teeming with monsters, what was so frightening about a mere pig’s head?
“……I’m sorry for startling everyone.”
“Haha, ha…… haha!”
“I-it wasn’t actually that scary or horrifying.”
“That’s right, Teacher! We just got swept up in the moment…… Heh, heh……”
Faced with Patrick’s drooping shoulders and sniffling apology on what should have been a joyous day, the Village Chief and the other adults quickly stepped in to smooth things over.
“We’ve rarely left the island, so we didn’t know this was how they perform rites in the capital, Teacher.”
“Ah, this isn’t how they do it in the capital.”
“Pardon?”
“It’s from the Eastern Continent! The Eastern Continent!”
“The Eastern Continent……?”
Living in a place without telephones or the internet had its drawbacks, but it also provided the perfect excuse when you needed to bluff. Especially when the story involved somewhere far across the sea—most people would simply nod and accept it.
If they bought the capital story, they definitely won’t know anything about the Eastern Continent on the other side of the ocean.
Besides, Korea was technically part of East Asia, so calling it the Eastern Continent wasn’t even wrong.
“Yes. The design of this house I wanted to show you today follows the traditional architecture of a certain country on the Eastern Continent.”
“Ooh……!”
“That’s why I performed the rite the way they do over there. I didn’t mean to cause such a fuss.”
“So that’s what happened!”
“Aha! That explains why there’s rice instead of bread on the table!”
“Exactly!”
A handful of rice had been placed beside the pig’s head, which now served as further proof.
“But why do they only offer the pig’s head in that country?”
“Haha, well, I suppose it’s to offer the head to the gods while the people share the body.”
Patrick grinned and pointed at the outdoor hearth he had been tending since morning.
“It should be ready by now.”
Right after the sauna was completed, when the ship arrived from the mainland to pick up the carpenters, he had ordered a whole pig in advance.
— Just send the head separately, please.
— ……The head? Ah, yes, of course!
Later he learned that the Oren Merchant Group employee who took the order had assumed he wanted to inspect the pig for illness or poor quality.
Clap!
“Shall we try the rite again?”
Patrick smiled and looked around at everyone.
“May no one suffer from the cold this winter.”
He made his wish aloud and placed a silver coin inside the pig’s mouth.
“……?”
“Ah, Village Chief, you should make a wish too.”
“Eh? Ah, yes. Of course, Teacher. Heh heh. ……May all the villagers stay healthy. O god of the east!”
After offering his prayer, the Village Chief felt an odd prickling at the back of his neck.
This feels rather burdensome…… Heh heh!
Forcing a hearty laugh, the chief generously stuffed three silver coins into the pig’s mouth. It wasn’t merely for the sake of appearances. Patrick had already promised to fund the construction of an identical building for the village hall using his own money. Although the project had been delayed due to a shortage of materials, the carpenters were scheduled to return in the fall. Even if the new building turned out to be nothing more than a warehouse, the chief was deeply grateful.
“Hoh hoh. In that case, I suppose I’ll make a wish as well. O god of the east, please look kindly upon this old woman and let her remain in this world a little longer. Hoh hoh!”
Following the chief, Halmae made her wish, and then Ben’s father offered his own prayer, each placing a coin in the pig’s mouth. Ben, after pestering his father, managed to obtain a single copper coin and joined in.
“What? Why are you whispering your wish?”
“Wishes are supposed to be secret!”
“Don’t be ridiculous! You’ve got a crush on someone, don’t you? Who is it? Who?!”
“It’s not like that!”
Ben stuck out his tongue and ran off. Still, his contribution encouraged the others who had felt awkward about offering silver. One by one they stepped forward, bowed their heads, and soon the pig’s mouth was piled high with coins.
All of that is my emergency fund, you know.
It had been worth dragging the Village Chief into this. After spending so much on the ritual preparations, he figured he deserved at least this much back.
If they think of it as paying for lunch, no one should feel cheated.
When he opened the hearth door, the rich aroma of roasting meat filled the air. The sizzling sound of crispy skin and rendered fat made everyone’s mouths water even more than usual—perhaps because the earlier fright had sharpened their appetites.
Patrick seized the moment.
“Shall we eat now?”
The whole pig, roasted since dawn, paired perfectly with the herb-and-spice sauce.
“You should try this as well.”
While the men hauled the hot pig from the hearth and separated the meat from the bones, several skilled women, with Patrick’s permission, picked fresh vegetables from the garden and prepared a salad.
“This is amazing!”
“Hoho. It’s simple, but it turned out quite well, didn’t it?”
Diced vegetables tossed with fragrant herbs that had been lightly rubbed between the fingers, a splash of lemon juice and fish sauce, a pinch of salt and sugar, finished with olive oil.
I could probably make this myself.
For Patrick, whose usual salad experience had been limited to olive oil and salt—or tomato sauce when he grew tired of that—the taste was a revelation.
“Since you’ve shared such a wonderful recipe, I should return the favor.”
Grinning, Patrick pulled out the pork belly he had set aside earlier and began grilling it in a large pan. He then added a generous amount of finely chopped kimchi, steaming white rice, a bit of salt, some chili powder, and a spoonful of minced garlic.
“This is another specialty.”
The villagers’ eyes widened at the unfamiliar aroma.
Those who had once tasted the spiciness while making kimchi were now able to eat the stir-fried kimchi—its heat mellowed by the savory pork fat—without issue. The subtle sweetness of the rice and the nutty flavor of the slightly scorched grains were especially popular. Even the children who had been afraid to try kimchi picked up their spoons and attacked their meals with gusto.
“By the way, Teacher, may we take a look inside the house now?”
“Ah, right.”
Patrick had completely forgotten the original purpose of today’s event.