A Bag of Beans
Patrick wasn’t the type whose social skills were completely shattered. In other words, even with his mind literally wandering in the bean fields, he still managed to harvest quite a lot of alfalfa.
“Dig, Dig!”
“Ah, you mustn’t, sir!”
“Di…… What?”
“It’s a perennial. You can’t just yank it out like a regular crop. You have to hold it like this and cut the upper part with a sickle.”
Even though he couldn’t rely on his usual magical shortcut. Alfalfa grew less than a meter tall, so the work meant bending at the waist all day long. Hold, cut. Hold, cut. Cut, hold. Then trip and fall.
The Village Chief watched Patrick tumble about like a slapstick routine and muttered to himself, “Seems you’re not quite used to physical labor yet.”
“Aaaagh! Mole! Mole!”
This time Patrick was hopping about in a panic. A wild mole had apparently shot out from under his feet.
“Never seen a mole before? If that’s your first time, that’s a problem in itself. How are you going to farm if you’re that scared of moles?”
Ben, who had been playing with the other children, scolded him.
“Why don’t you help the adults instead of just running around?”
“Kids can’t use sickles. What if we get hurt?”
“I’ll get hurt too if I’m not careful.”
“You’re an adult, Teacher.”
“Drop the prejudice that adults are automatically good with sickles.”
“I never said you were good at it. I can tell just by watching.”
Ben glanced back and forth between the alfalfa Patrick had cut on one side and the adults’ work, thoroughly riling his teacher before sticking out his tongue and dashing away.
“Why do I always lose arguments with kids…… Anyway, what are those kids doing now?”
The children were wandering the alfalfa-covered hills, collecting seeds from the split pods.
“You’re going to eat those?”
“They’re for the chickens.”
“The goats too! They love them!”
“They don’t taste very good, though. They’re all right if you put them in bread.”
The children chimed in one after another.
“Chickens like them?”
Still, Patrick quietly began picking up alfalfa seeds and tucking them into his pocket whenever he had a free moment between sickle strokes. That rooster still crowed whenever it felt like it, regardless of dawn, but Patrick had grown rather fond of it and wanted to bring it a snack.
Making hay was said to be a race against time. Alfalfa hay was rich in nutrients and helped livestock maintain their weight and health through winter, but it was especially vulnerable to moisture, so it had to be dried thoroughly and crisply. For a while, the front yard of the Village Hall was off-limits to running children.
“Hoho. Until last year we had to take it all the way to the beach to dry because there was no proper open space. The Village Hall is proving useful again.”
“You really have to dry it in the sun for three full days?”
“Yes. Still, this year the sky is clear and the sun is strong, so three days should be enough. We just need to come by every two hours or so and turn it so it dries evenly.”
“That’s work too.”
“Animals have just as much trouble getting through winter, don’t they?”
Even though the amount filling the Village Hall yard was considerable, they still had to import hay from the mainland.
“The number of livestock brought to the island this year has increased quite a bit.”
Now that they were doing better, everyone had started bringing in chickens, ducks, pigeons, and goats. ‘It means they have some breathing room. Not a bad thing.’
It was the picture of an abundant autumn. But soon a commotion began at the village entrance. Oren, the head of the Oren Merchant Group, had arrived.
“Village Chief!”
“Group Leader! Goodness, you’ve been through so much!”
“Not at all. To think something like that happened in our group while I knew nothing about it…… I don’t even know how to apologize to you and the villagers!”
From what Patrick gathered, Oren had just returned from giving testimony in the capital. The trial result wasn’t out yet, but it seemed the deputy leader would likely be sentenced to hard labor for quite some time. Hearing this, the fishermen shouted “Serves him right, that bastard!” and declared that such a happy day called for drinks, then headed straight for the small tavern that had opened in the village. It was a side business Maksim had started, and it was quickly becoming a local landmark on Dunbrook Island, which had never had a proper restaurant before. The man really did have a knack for cooking.
“I’m sorry, Village Chief.”
“There’s no need for you to apologize, Oren. If someone sets out to deceive you, there’s no way to avoid it. It’s all right, so please stop apologizing. It’s embarrassing to listen to.”
The Village Chief was truly an adult. ‘If it were me, I’d be cursing the deputy leader for three days straight.’
Thinking this, Patrick looked at Oren and felt sorry for him. Oren had clearly been through a lot; his once-plump frame had shrunk by half. His usual confident expression was nowhere to be seen, replaced by gloom.
‘This is bad if my business partner is like this.’ Having his cosmetics distribution network collapse was absolutely unacceptable. ‘I still want to sleep under good blankets and wear good clothes.’
It was already unfair that he couldn’t leave the island; he couldn’t go back looking like a beggar. Even the high nobles of the territory hadn’t known the truth about the black market for over a decade. It was perhaps only natural that Oren, who personally visited suppliers in search of good products, hadn’t grasped the full picture.
“I am deeply indebted to the wizard.”
After apologizing to the Village Chief, Oren now seemed ready to thank Patrick.
“How can I ever repay this favor……”
“Then get me some beans.”
“Pardon?”
“Do you happen to have any beans that are a bit yellowish and round? I need them! Since I caught the deputy leader for you, you really have to find them for me.”
Patrick rattled off his request without missing a beat. The sight of him not just asking but practically demanding made Oren, who had been gloomy the whole time, burst into laughter.
“Hahaha! Yes, Wizard! I’ll take responsibility and definitely get them for you!”
“Ah, of course I’ll pay for the goods. But since you offered first, no commission, right? You’ll give them to me at cost?”
“Of course! While I was in the capital this time, I also made connections with staff from trading companies that import ingredients from the Eastern Continent! Leave it to me. I’ll have them within a month! Without fail!”
Seeing Oren suddenly burning with enthusiasm, Patrick thought that getting too close might burn him. ‘Why is he so happy about being given work? What a strange person.’
He considered warning Oren that working that hard would lead to death by overwork in this unknown world, but decided against it. ‘……Well, staying busy is the best thing when your mind is troubled.’
If Oren had been willing to hand over even his deputy leader position, that colleague must have been someone he trusted and relied on deeply. For that colleague to have used the position Oren gave him to commit crimes behind his back…… the fact that Oren was still holding himself together was impressive enough.
‘Work hard, mister.’
And so Patrick brushed away the last trace of guilt he had felt. He hadn’t given Oren this mission just for his own benefit. ‘This is all for Oren’s sake.’
A caterpillar eats pine needles, and a merchant makes deals. That’s how it is. As for him? An exile who quietly stays in his place of exile has already done his part.
That day, Patrick had gone to do day labor at Ben’s father’s grape farm.
“Ow, my whole body……”
“Teacher, you only sprinkled lime powder.”
“Do you know how much hard labor that is?”
“The other men worked really hard grinding stones into powder, though?”
“I’m a wizard. Of course I can’t do that kind of heavy work.”
“That’s not a thing.”
“That’s informal speech, you brat. A little kid like you trying to talk back.”
They had spread fertilizer mixed with limestone powder under the grapevines after the harvest was finished. Limestone powder adjusted the soil’s acidity, helping the grapes grow sweeter and larger. This, too, was something Patrick had taught them. Unbeknownst to him, his influence had quietly reached every corner of the village.
“By the way, Ben. Is autumn always this busy?”
“It’s almost over now. Your field too.”
“I still have cabbage and radishes…… Ugh, there’s still a lot left to harvest.”
“You don’t seem to do any work, but you’ve been working pretty hard, huh?”
“Was that a compliment?”
“If that’s how you took it.”
“Heh heh heh. Here.”
“Thanks. I’ll enjoy it.”
It was a makeshift croquette. Now that he had money, Patrick had stopped being stingy with food and often tried making various things despite his lack of skill. Out of ten attempts, three would be completely inedible, five would be barely passable, and the remaining two would receive quite favorable reviews from others. The croquettes were one of those successes.
Though the flavor was simple and couldn’t compare to what was sold at bakeries, and the shape was somewhat squashed, the filling made with potatoes, bacon, onions, olives, and a few herbs, coated in flour and fried, had its own charm. ‘Without frying powder it’s closer to a doughnut than a croquette, but if I say it’s a croquette, then it’s a croquette. Who cares.’
Big-hearted people don’t nitpick over trivial things.
“By the way, how long are you going to boil those? Aren’t they already cooked?”
Ben, sitting on the wooden bench and taking a big bite of his snack, pointed at the pot boiling outside while chewing.
“It’s been a while.”
“You’re supposed to boil them for a long time.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. That way they mash well.”
“Are you trying to make pesto or something?”
What had been bubbling in the pot for several hours now was none other than beans. Feeling both sorry and grateful to Patrick, Oren had set everything else aside and immediately sent someone to find the beans Patrick wanted.
— The group leader sent these. He hopes they’re the kind of beans you mentioned.
— They’re pretty close to what I had in mind. Thank you.
— And, this……
— What’s this?
— While looking for the beans you mentioned, we found a few other varieties. I thought you might need them.
— Are they free?
— Of course! How could we charge the group’s benefactor?
That was how Patrick ended up with three sacks of beans. The yellowish beans Oren had procured looked slightly different from the soybeans he remembered from his previous life. Rather than perfectly round, they were closer to oval and somewhat resembled small peanuts. However, judging by their hardness and color, they didn’t seem all that different from soybeans either. ‘These days they even use green soybeans and black soybeans for doenjang, so it should be fine.’
Once again, he was completely ignorant about cooking. Without milk, he would insist that you could just mix cheese with water and call it good, claiming all dairy products were basically the same. So he had no intention, will, or reason to be picky about bean varieties. Sometimes life rolls along better when you don’t overthink the details.