A Blessing in Disguise (1)
Even in the Joseon era, it was common to harass and oppress exiles. Some scholars brought their entire families along when banished, enjoying a leisurely life watching their grandchildren play or building new political connections with local elites. But that was only possible for the wealthy few with powerful backing. Exiles like Patrick—penniless, alone, and without connections—often had to beg just to survive in their new villages. So when Halmae suddenly told him to till the field, Patrick couldn’t help but imagine a future of scraping by on scraps.
“Spring’s here, so there’ll be edible greens sprouting nearby. Might not be what a mage from the tower is used to, but you’ll have to get used to it.”
“No, I like it!” Patrick bowed politely once he realized she wasn’t just trying to exploit him as free labor. “Thank you, ma’am. I’ve learned a lot.”
“As you can see, our village isn’t exactly well-off. This is all we can offer to help.”
“Halmae! I’m hungry!”
At Ben’s loud complaint, the village women laughed and brought out bowls.
“Thank you for the meal!”
The moment Patrick shoveled in the golden-brown fish and warm soup, his body went limp. “Whoa…” How long had it been since he’d eaten a proper meal?
“So, did you finish tilling the field?” Halmae asked casually while he was still devouring the fish.
“Ah, not yet. I cleared all the weeds, though. I’ll finish after lunch.”
“Huh? That tiny patch of land, and you spent the whole morning on it and still aren’t done? Were you slacking off?”
“No, Halmae! He worked really hard without resting. He just couldn’t finish.”
“Is that so?”
Halmae, who had been so kind moments ago, now eyed Patrick with clear doubt.
“And you think you can farm with skills like that?”
“From what I saw, no way, Halmae.”
“That bad?”
“If we leave him alone, he’ll probably starve to death.”
Patrick pouted at the child’s brutally honest assessment. Still, for a first try, wasn’t that pretty good? He was confident he could improve with practice.
“I was going to give you some seeds once the field was ready, but now I’m worried you’ll just kill them all.”
“Seeds?”
“You said you were going to farm, didn’t you? You’ll need something to plant.”
“P-please give them to me! I won’t let them die! I’ll learn properly and make sure they grow!”
“Well, at least you’ve got enthusiasm. Heh. I’ll decide how many to give after I see the field, so do your best.”
“Yes, ma’am!”
Patrick felt a surge of motivation at the promise of a reward. This is just like a game. Finish the quest and get a reward. And the reward even scaled with performance.
After wolfing down lunch, he headed back to the field.
“Is this how you do it?”
Thwack! He swung the hoe with enthusiasm and drove it into the ground. He’d watched plenty of videos on YouTube. But watching was one thing—actually doing it was another.
“Ow, crap!”
A sharp pain shot through his hands. Swinging wildly without any technique had predictable results. The ground, frozen solid all winter, was more than enough to knock out a scrawny mage in under ten minutes.
“Already taking a break, mister?”
Ben, acting as supervisor, needled him, but Patrick was too out of breath to reply. Is this right? Is this really how it’s done? If he hadn’t overdone it pulling weeds yesterday, he might’ve been in better shape. Regret didn’t change anything, though.
“Maybe watering it first would make hoeing easier?”
Patrick was considering using Waterball when the ground felt too hard, but Ben burst out laughing, clutching his stomach.
“Kyahaha! Mister, you really are an idiot.”
“If you’re not going to help, why are you picking a fight?”
“If the ground gets all soggy, it’ll be even harder to work! Don’t you know that? And after it rains, the soil gets even harder when it dries.”
“……Are you sure?”
“Of course! Why do you think the adults rush out to the fields at dawn when it looks like rain?”
“So that’s why the ground hardens after rain……”
What good was magic if it was useless for digging? With no other choice, Patrick forced his screaming limbs to keep swinging the hoe little by little. Sweat poured down like rain, and he desperately wanted to throw the tool away and give up, but he had some grit left in him. If I can’t even handle this, what am I going to do?
Just as he was swinging the hoe in a trance, his arms trembling—
“Huh? Huh! What’s that?! Mister, mister!”
Ben, who had been lounging in the shade playing a grass whistle, suddenly jumped up in a panic.
“What? Did a bug come out or something?”
“No, over there! Look at that! What do we do, what do we do?!”
At the urgent shouting, Patrick wiped his sweat, straightened up, then tossed the hoe aside and started running.
“Mister, faster!”
His running form was so pathetic that Ben nearly caught up to him in seconds.
***
“Hurry and bring water, quick!”
“Fire! There’s a fire!”
After running for who knows how long, Patrick spotted the panicked villagers. The communal workshop where they’d just eaten lunch was on fire.
“We have to put it out……! All the nets and traps are inside……!”
Thanks to the salty sea breeze, it looked like only the outer walls had caught fire so far. But it was only a matter of time before the flames reached the equipment inside.
The able-bodied men were either working in the fields outside the village or out fishing since early morning, so only a handful of people were left to fetch water.
“Go get the adults, quick!”
“Yes, ma’am!”
The fleet-footed children ran off to fetch help, but the fire was still growing.
“What do we do?! If all the fishing gear burns, this year’s catch is ruined!”
“If we could at least get one side under control…… Aigoo! Aigoo!”
The villagers kept hauling seawater while fretting over the equipment.
“Step back for a second! Waterball!”
Vwoom—!
Without hesitation, Patrick cast the spell and hurled a Waterball straight at the burning workshop door. Whoosh! The flames on the door erupted into thick smoke and died down. Patrick kept chanting in a trembling voice.
“Waterball, Waterball, Waterball!”
Since it was only a 1st-circle spell, he couldn’t make the orbs any bigger than a soccer ball. Still, in a short time he’d launched over a dozen of them—each large enough to fill a bucket.
“Now’s our chance! Get the gear out first!”
Several burly men who had just arrived rushed inside the moment they saw the flames had weakened, sleeves covering their mouths.
“Wait, Waterball! ……Ugh!”
Patrick tried to shield them with water, but a sudden migraine made him stagger.
“Waterball, Water……ball, Wa……ter……ball……!”
Thud!
He kept casting even as his vision blurred, managing three more spells before finally collapsing.
“Mister! Mister! Mister’s dead!”
At Ben’s scream, Patrick couldn’t help but let out a weak laugh.
***
Blink, blink.
“Are you awake?”
“Ugh…… Where am I……?”
“We brought you to my house for now.”
When he opened his eyes, he saw the Village Chief’s face. Is this island cursed or something? I’ve already passed out twice in three days. The chaotic fire scene still lingered in his mind.
“Did the fire get put out?”
The Village Chief slowly shook his head, but his expression wasn’t grim.
“The workshop burned down. Heh. It was just slapped together with wood, so there wasn’t much we could do.”
“……I see.”
“Still, thanks to you, we saved almost all the fishing gear. It’s a village asset, so we owe you a great deal.”
At least fainting hadn’t been for nothing.
“I’ve prepared some food. Would you like to eat now?”
“No, my head’s still spinning……”
“Is that so? Then I’ll wrap this up for you. Take it home and eat.”
The Village Chief returned with a bundle stuffed with food. A quick peek inside revealed bread, jam, and various seasonings.
“I should walk you back, but we’re short-handed cleaning up the fire site. Fires have been breaking out a lot lately, even though it’s not the dry season…… Take care on your way, sir!”
“Oh, no need. I’m already so grateful you packed all this for me!”
His head was clear, but the splitting headache lingered as he rubbed his temples on the way home. Then he suddenly stopped. Come to think of it, the Village Chief’s attitude toward me…… wasn’t it different?
He’d always been kind, but before he used to speak half-formally and call him “Mage sir.” Just now, he’d clearly addressed him as “sir” with full respect. Was it because of the magic? That was the only explanation. After all, in a tiny island village like this, few people had ever seen a real mage. They’d probably heard he was a low-circle exile with no real power—just some unlucky scholar from the capital. But after witnessing him spam nearly twenty spells…… This might actually turn out pretty well for me.
The workshop had burned down, but the gear was safe and no one was hurt. In the end, it was a blessing in disguise. Maybe I can score a few more fish? Who knows, I might even get a trap of my own!
Patrick whistled a cheerful tune as he walked.