The Stalking Secretary and a Visit to the Sickroom
Early the next morning, before the sun had fully risen, I loaded the sweet potatoes I'd sorted the night before onto the Agricultural Cooperative's truck and sent them off.
“Well then, I'll be on my way.”
“Yes, thank you for your help!”
Thump—
The truck door closed on my sweet potatoes, and the engine rumbled to life. I'd worked through the previous evening packaging every last crop that was headed out. I owed that much to the sorting magic I'd learned in my past life. Because I already knew a decent range of everyday utility spells, the tedious little jobs like portioning and packing could all be handled with magic. The sheer volume meant it still took a while, of course.
“Now, time to start inscribing the field.”
There was plenty to do. Following the field map the cooperative had provided, I moved the boundary stakes and recharged my mana. Inscribing anything, anywhere, demanded intense concentration—and right now, with the place quiet and deserted, was the perfect moment to work. Since my Mana Land had grown larger, I absolutely had to keep the circulation of mana from stalling and reinforce the connections between every section.
“Phew—”
Having done it a few times before, it didn't take long. But hard work is hard work, no matter how practiced you are. By the time I finished the inscriptions, I was drenched in sweat again.
“Still, I've got room to spare for about 1,600 square meters or so.”
I'd worried whether I had enough mana to sustain the expanded Mana Land, but it seemed my reserves were more than comfortable at this scale.
“That's a relief, I suppose.”
Now I had to plant sweet potatoes here again. I looked around and let out a hollow laugh.
“I have to build the ridges from scratch.”
And once the ridges were made, every single sweet potato vine had to go into the ground too. Even with magic, this wasn't going to be over in a blink—my current spells were simply too rudimentary for that. No help for it. It was time to do things the hard way. If I pushed through today, future work would go much more smoothly. I could always stagger the harvests, after all. First things first: I needed to grab my equipment.
“I can do this! Let's go!”
A large convalescent hospital in Seoul. In its VIP private ward, an elderly man managed to clench and release his trembling hand—once. Day by day, his body obeyed him less and less.
Progressive muscular dystrophy. A disease that gradually weakens and withers the muscles. Most cases are hereditary, though it can also appear later in life. That was the diagnosis the old man had received a year ago. His body had been perfectly fine even into old age, but it had steadily declined—a pair of legs that once ran freely began to struggle with simple walking, then left him unable to stand without a cane. Now even sitting up required another person's help. The deterioration had been far too abrupt to dismiss as ordinary aging.
The fear that he might truly die soon. The old man fought that fear every single day.
Knock knock.
“Chairman. This is Secretary Jang.”
“Come... in.”
A young man younger than the chairman's own son entered through the ward door—a youth spending the prime of his years tending to another man's sickbed.
“The doctor—what did he say?”
“...He says they've tried every method available. There's nothing more they can do.”
“I... see.”
The old man closed his eyes in resignation. Watching him, his secretary, Jang Woo-jin, clenched his fists. This man—the chairman—was not someone who should be lying here so helplessly. Jang Woo-jin recalled the figure the old man had once cut, back when he'd admired him.
Choi Tae-seok, former chairman of Taeram Food, one of the nation's foremost food companies. A legendary executive who conjured a golden age—a golden age not even the company's founders had managed to build—in just five short years after inheriting the enterprise. Though he'd stepped back from management for health reasons, he remained the company's ultimate power, still capable of moving markets with a single word. The current Honorary Chairman of Taeram Food—and the very man who had inspired Jang Woo-jin to apply to the secretary's office in the first place.
Jang Woo-jin squeezed his eyes shut and spoke.
“...There's a rumor going around lately.”
At his voice, Choi Tae-seok's closed eyes trembled faintly.
“They say there's a sweet potato circulating on the market that strengthens weakened muscles.”
“...Heh heh.”
A hollow laugh burst from Choi Tae-seok's lips. A sweet potato that builds muscle. Had he really fallen so low that he was expected to cling to such an absurd rumor?
Jang Woo-jin cried out.
“It could be your last chance! It's being sold through the Agricultural Cooperative—we've already tracked down where it's grown. Just say the word, give me your permission, and...!”
It was a desperate voice. And then, unbidden, the old man remembered his conversation with his son the day before.
'Father, please don't give up. I still need you.'
How was it that so many people were determined to hold onto him? A truly blessed twilight, this. For their sake, then—just this once more, he ought to try whatever could still be tried.
“Secretary Jang!”
“Heh, my ears... haven't fallen off... yet.”
At the playful reply, Jang Woo-jin's face crumpled. Choi Tae-seok glanced sideways at his secretary's expression, then closed his eyes again.
“Secretary... Jang.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I'm... counting... on you.”
A flash—at those words, Jang Woo-jin's eyes lit up. That sweet potato everyone had heard of but almost no one had seen. That sweet potato for which buyers lined up after reading reviews from those who'd tasted it. A crop he himself had learned of only through rumor. But he wasn't going there on a whim—a man's life hung in the balance.
Jang Woo-jin bowed to Choi Tae-seok and left the ward. The Muscle Strengthening Sweet Potato. He would obtain it, whatever it took.
I could feel it. An intense gaze—unmistakably fixed on me. I turned my head, and a single sedan parked in the distance caught my eye. A black body, heavily tinted windows. And beside the parked car, standing at rigid attention, a neatly dressed man in a suit. The source of that burning stare appeared to be him. He didn't approach or say a word—just kept watching.
...I'll ignore him.
Rip—crriiip—
One weed. Two weeds... damn it.
“Excuse me.”
In the end, I couldn't take it anymore and called out first. At the sound of my voice, the man's shoulders jolted.
An expensive-looking car, an expensive-looking suit, and even with sunglasses on, somehow he still managed to look awkward.
Pat pat.
I brushed the dirt from my gloves, rose from my spot, and walked over to him. “Can I help you?”
Hearing my question, the man hurriedly pulled off his sunglasses and offered an apology. “I'm sorry. I meant to greet you first, but you seemed so busy I couldn't find the right moment...”
Sweat trickled down the man's temple. He had steeled himself for the trip all the way out to Jeolla Province, yet he hadn't been able to approach the boyish young farmer working his field.
'He radiated this aura like he absolutely must not be disturbed, so I couldn't even open my mouth...'
A boy who looked barely old enough to be in middle school. And yet he'd felt pressure from someone like that. This was a man who had attended the chairman's side for years. His instincts were sharp enough to pick up on even the subtlest shifts in the chairman's unspoken moods. He'd been confident no ordinary impression could overwhelm him—and yet.
Jang Woo-jin didn't know it, but the field where Seo Ji-on worked was no ordinary ground. A vast quantity of mana had been artificially inscribed into it—it was land with a master. Stepping onto such ground, and feeling intimidated by Ji-on standing within it, was proof that Jang Woo-jin's instincts were honed razor-sharp.
“Ahem...”
Jang Woo-jin cleared his throat a few times and rummaged in his breast pocket. What he produced was a single crisp business card.
“My name is Jang Woo-jin, of the secretary's office at Taeram Food.”
Something about his voice—a tone I somehow felt I'd heard many times before—tugged at my heart. Right, this was it: the world-weary, strictly-business voice of someone pickled in corporate life. The voice of the mages who used to file their reports to the Tower Master at Mage Tower meetings, back in the day! So the claim about working in a company's secretary's office was no lie, it seemed.
And Taeram Food—a name I recognized. “Where have I heard that before...?” Ah, I remembered. The logo icon printed on the curry powder packaging my mother had pulled out yesterday! The emblem stamped on practically every food product on the shelf. This was a far bigger company than I'd realized.
When I lifted my head as if I'd just figured something out, Jang Woo-jin smiled slyly. “The reason I've come all this way is, in short, that our chairman wishes to meet you, farmer.”
“...Farmer?”
“Yes. To be precise, we are in dire need of your sweet potatoes.”
The rest of the man's words barely registered. I'd been thoroughly hooked by that one word: farmer. Not once until now had anyone called me the owner of a farm!
...This guy, he knows how to read people. My affection meter was already climbing. But once I came back to my senses, things got a little awkward. He had clearly come all this way to beg me to sell him sweet potatoes. And thanks to my exclusive sales contract with the Agricultural Cooperative, I couldn't grant such a request.
While I was lost in thought, Jang Woo-jin glanced at the field and asked, “Have you finished your work out there? You seemed in the middle of something urgent—I hope I didn't interrupt.”
I shook my head. Pulling weeds wasn't exactly urgent. The job wasn't finished, but honestly, it could wait until tomorrow.
“It's fine.”
“Glad to hear it.”
Jang Woo-jin extended a hand naturally and gestured toward the car. “Shall we go?”
“...Right now?”
The person who supposedly wanted to meet me was a chairman. And he wanted me to come along looking like I'd rolled around in dirt? When I gave Jang Woo-jin a baffled look, he chuckled sheepishly and opened the rear door of the car. Clunk—
“Um, so where exactly are we going?” I asked once I'd climbed in.
He checked me in the rearview mirror and replied, “I'll drive you home first. And from this point on, I must ask you to listen very carefully to what I'm about to say.”
What Jang Woo-jin told me was simple. A man he deeply admired—a corporate titan who had built a monumental success story—was stricken with an incurable disease. For that man, now facing death, please, sell us the sweet potatoes.
I listened to his story the whole ride home with sympathy on my face, but inside, only one thought occupied my mind.
This was an opportunity. Taeram Food. A massive food company even a country kid like me knew by name. And its most powerful figure needed the crops from my farm? There was no better opening for growing my business. This wasn't a connection I intended to close off cleanly after selling a handful of sweet potatoes.
“We've arrived already.”
Jang Woo-jin's words pulled me from my reverie. At some point, we were in front of my house. He got out and held the rear door open for me. I started to step out, then stopped and turned to him.
“Excuse me, Secretary Jang Woo-jin?”
“Please, call me whatever is comfortable.”
“Then, Secretary Jang—could you not go anywhere and wait here for just a moment?”
“...Here?”
At my sudden request, Jang Woo-jin looked taken aback. But he quickly recovered his composure and nodded. “Understood. I'll wait here.”
I hurried through the front gate, putting my mana to work. With a Cast of Clean, I stripped every trace of dirt and dust from my body—where I was going next was no place to show up filthy. Then I picked up one of the boxes stacked in the storage shed.
A moment later—really, just a very brief moment later—I stood before Jang Woo-jin, freshly presentable, a get-well gift in hand.
“I'm ready.”
“...How are you this fast?”
Hey, buddy. That's not the point right now.
“Let's get moving. We've got a sickroom to visit!”