A Harvest of Ten Forearm-Sized Sweet Potatoes

I'd already known the sweet potatoes would grow quickly.

I just hadn't expected this quick.

"Haha……."

If only those arrogant, high-nosed nobles of the continent could see this. Just imagining them rolling around clutching their stomachs over the fortune they'd let slip away was enough to make me feel deliciously vindicated.

Of course, for a brief moment, the faces of the people worn down by that long famine flickered through my mind too.

……But there was nothing I could do for them. Not yet. Right now, I had to help the people right beside me before anyone else.

A contented smile crept onto my face without my permission.

I stroked the leaves, and a soft, supple texture met my fingertips.

"Grow up big and strong, now."

The faster you grow, the more I get to eat, Grandpa gets to eat, and you'll be flying off the shelves everywhere. If you kept growing at this pace, infinite sweet potato propagation might actually be possible.

Though of course, the effects mattered more than anything.

"Listen up, kids. You need to grow big, taste delicious, and pack a punch."

It might sound a bit sinister, but there's no such thing as kindness without a price. You ate my mana and my fertilizer, so you'll pay me back, won't you, my sweet potatoes?

Rustle—

"Hm?"

It sounded like something had just slipped past. I whipped my head around and scanned the area. The last thing I needed was someone catching me driving boundary stakes into the ground.

Thankfully, there didn't seem to be a soul in sight.

"Better swap out the stakes and head back in, quick."

Time flew by.

Two whole weeks had already passed since I'd entered this strange world in a young body. In that time, I'd racked up exactly three achievements.

First: stamina.

Only yesterday it seemed like one lap around the village would kill me, but now I could finish the same lap with breath to spare. It felt dramatic for a change that had come in barely a week — though maybe this was just what a teenage body was capable of. At this rate, I'd be packing on muscle in no time.

And I'd gotten taller, too. With my appetite and exercise backing each other up, I was shooting up like a weed.

Second: mana sensitivity.

While I was out running anyway, I'd diligently practiced Mana Breathing and condensation morning and night — and my body's mana circuits had widened. This body's talent was beyond anything I'd imagined. Not only was my mana sensitivity excellent; my control was first-rate as well. I hadn't formed a circle yet, of course. But the size of one's mana circuits had an enormous bearing on inscribing spell formulas, and with circuits, wider was always better. Heh heh.

And last of all — the sweet potatoes.

They'd already grown. No, honestly, they were fully grown.

It wasn't just the system telling me they were ready, either. With my own eyes I could see the leaves wriggling about as if to say, digs us up already! They looked ready to burst straight through the soil if I didn't harvest them this instant.

"Well, I'll be…… that's a strange one, all right. Sweet potatoes normally take three whole months ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to come in."

That was how fast they'd grown — early in the morning, Grandpa had come out to the field with me and was already going off to fetch a hoe, utterly baffled. Mana-inscribed land plus special-crop effects made them grow absurdly fast.

……And how exactly was I supposed to explain that? All I could do was laugh it off with a sheepish chuckle.

"Hmmm…… now that's a curious thing, I tell you."

"Haha……."

Just as I was standing there with my awkward smile, Grandpa — who'd been muttering about what a strange business it was while turning the sweet potato vines over this way and that — laid a hand on a stem, and as if bewitched, launched into his hoeing.

Thock, thock, thock.

The sound of Grandpa's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hoe striking the earth rang out across the field. He looked like a man for whom nothing in the world existed but the sweet potatoes before his eyes. With every swift motion of his hands, plump sweet potatoes emerged from beneath the soil.

"Grandpa?"

At my startled voice, Grandpa snapped out of it with a start, then belatedly broke into an embarrassed laugh.

"Ah, goodness me, I went at it too hard. You want to scrape the soil away all gentle-like, so's not to bruise 'em, then pull 'em out — like so."

Grandpa held the hoe out to me. "Shall we let you give it a try now?"

Taking the hoe from him, I spent a good while carefully clearing the soil away. Grandpa stood at my side, watching over my shoulder.

"There you go. I'd say you can go ahead and pull it up now."

Once the sweet potato had all but emerged from the earth, Grandpa told me to grip the stem's crown and give it a pull.

"Like this?"

Following his instruction, I took hold of the stem and lifted upward. It wouldn't budge. Heavier than I'd expected — should I pull harder?

And in that instant, without thinking, I channeled mana into my arm and wrenched the sweet potato free.

Then—

Ruuuustle—

"Whoa……!"

Holy— look at that—!

The sweet potatoes came sliding out in a long, gleaming string. Ten colossal tubers, each the size of a grown man's forearm. And every one of them perfectly uniform in shape.

Sweet potatoes all the same size and shape. Would Grandpa find that strange too?

As it turned out, Grandpa simply went about tidying them up as though nothing was the least bit amiss, without a word. Well — his not prying into the sweet potatoes was a blessing for me.

And so, ten per vine — twenty sweet potatoes in total. Twenty sounds simple enough, but picture twenty forearms and you'll understand it was a considerable weight. There was no way I could carry them all at once, so I had to shuttle back and forth between the field and the truck several times.

"Heh heh, at this size…… I'd reckon a single one's gotta be over a kilo, easy?"

Grandpa chuckled as he loaded the sweet potatoes onto the truck. This was his grandchild's first-ever harvest, after all — how could he not be over the moon? Watching him swell with more pride than I felt myself, I couldn't help but feel good right along with him.

"Let's head home and try 'em. There's plenty, so if they're tasty, we can sell some too!"

What I was actually curious about wasn't the taste, but the effect.

The system said the effects were good, but I had no idea just how good they'd be until someone actually ate one. If I could pin down the magnitude of the effect, I'd have a feel for how to make use of them going forward.

And then there was one more thing.

A stamina-supporting passive skill. And judging by the fact that it had levels, it meant the supportive effects would keep growing stronger as it ranked up.

Quite the unexpected windfall. My body was still leagues behind my past life's, but if cultivation rewards kept coming in like this, I'd catch up to my old physical specs in no time.

Mana Land had been a world first — so it only stood to reason that its special crops would be firsts as well. Rewards like these would keep coming, again and again.

Now all that remained was to see what happened when someone other than me ate the sweet potatoes.

And that was how sweet potatoes became the breakfast menu.

Mother had already left for work; the house was empty. She'd started a job recently at a diner in town — six days a week, ten in the morning until eleven at night. It broke my heart to see her come home every evening with exhaustion written all over her face. And Grandpa, worried sick the whole drive home that her car might break down, looked like he was wearing himself out right along with her.

Now that I'd finally managed to grow sweet potatoes, selling them to help out was clearly the best thing I could do. But first, I needed to try one myself.

Having settled my thoughts, I stepped into the kitchen, set a steamer rack in a pot, and filled it with water. The sweet potatoes were so enormous that even halved, only one fit in the pot at a time. I poured in just enough water to nearly submerge them and put the lid on.

Before long, the pot began to rattle and hiss, and that distinctive, sweet-and-starchy sweet potato aroma spread through the house.

"Ah, now sweet potatoes are all well and good, mind you…… but it just ain't right without kimchi."

"Kimchi?"

Grandpa rummaged through the fridge and pulled out a kimchi container. Then he washed and dried his hands, and began tearing strips of kimchi, long and glistening, and laying them out on a plate.

"Hmm-hmm~"

The sight had me humming a tune without even realizing. Farming truly is a precious thing. To work up a sweat with your own two hands raising all manner of crops, and then to fill your belly with what you've grown — how perfect can a livelihood get?

"They should be done about now."

I lifted the lid, took a chopstick, and stabbed it deep into a sweet potato. The feeling of the chopstick sinking in with a soft pok told me they were cooked through. I killed the gas burner, fished them out, and started peeling the skins off as fast as I could.

When they're this hot, you have to peel them right away. Later, once they've cooled to warm, peeling and eating as you go is fine — but straight out of the pot, it's better to peel them all at once and let them cool while you eat.

And so: sweet, fluffy, steam rising off them in curls.

"Here you go, Grandpa."

"Bless you, my grandchild."

Every meal, Grandpa always set aside the best side dishes for me. Peeling a sweet potato for him was the least I could do in return. I peeled my own quickly and took a bite.

My stamina had already shot up considerably, but muscle strengthening was a different beast entirely — definitely worth a try.

"……!!"

Hot, hot, hot—

I scorched the roof of my mouth. Grandpa must have been in the same boat, because he instantly grabbed a piece of kimchi and stuffed it in, blowing gently on the heat. Before long, the searing warmth faded, and in its place came a sweetness and a texture so soft it melted on the tongue.

The exclamation burst out of my mouth before I could stop it.

"Unbelievable……."

Thwack—

Thwack, thwack—

A field under the punishing blaze of the midday sun. The sharp ring of a shovel biting into earth carried from the center of the field — accompanied by the deep, powerful rhythm of a man's breathing keeping time with every stroke.

"Now who in the world is working the fields at this hour? Trying to keel over from heatstroke……"

The village grandmothers and grandfathers sitting in the shade of the pavilion, nibbling at their mid-morning snacks, murmured among themselves as they stared at the middle of the field. One of the grandmothers, mid-bite into her lunchbox, suddenly spoke up as though something had struck her as odd.

"……Well, I never. Did we have anyone built like that in our village?"

A white sleeveless undershirt left smooth biceps and triceps gleaming in the light. A beautifully cut forearm flexed with every thrust of the shovel. A flat, taut stomach, a chest to die for — and beneath the shirt knotted carelessly around his waist, a firmly planted lower body that was every bit as impressive.

Not bodybuilderbulk, but a lean, perfectly balanced, well-built man. Who was that? Who on earth was working our village fields that hard?

"Isn't that the Kim family's plot over there?"

"Oh! They said a grandchild moved in with them recently — must be that young fellow."

"Young fellow? I don't think so? That hair's all grayed out — looks well past middle age to me."

"What, then it's the son-in-law?"

"The Kim boy's husband is working overseas right now, last I heard—"

Just as an impromptu village debate was unfolding over the picnic tables, an old man seated at the edge of the group opened his eyes wide in sudden recognition and shouted out.

"Good heavens — isn't that Kim himself?!"

"We already said it was the Kim family plot, what're you on about?"

"No, no — I'm telling you, that man is Kim!"

"……What?"

Kim Gwang-nam. The frailest old man in the village. A notorious good-for-nothing so poor that even as a tenant farmer he was famous for falling behind on his land rent — yet with a heart so soft that even his landlord couldn't bring himself to say a cross word to him. That gaunt, dried-up stick of a man who'd spent his seventies hauling around a body of completely spent muscles.

And the man shoveling away at the center of that field — that was Kim Gwang-nam?!

"What in blazes did he swallow overnight? Even if he smuggled that there 'doping' stuff in by the crateful, it wouldn't do that!"

"Ooh— here he comes this ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠way!"

The commotion swelled. The closer Gwang-nam got, the more clearly his solid frame came into view.

What on earth happened to him in a single day?

"Well now, everyone's gathered here! Guess I'll have myself a bite too. Any room?"

Under the bright midday sun, Gwang-nam flashed a dazzling white grin — and the grandmothers' bottoms immediately scooted aside to make one. Every time he opened his mouth, girlish giggles rippled through the grandmothers' row.

When Kim Gwang-nam, the village laughingstock, became the instant star of the lunch hour, the grandfathers cleared their throats in visible discomfort and prodded at him.

"Ahem. Say there, Gwang-nam. What in the world happened to your body? One night, and suddenly you're all……"

"Eh? My body? Why, I ate the sweet potatoes my grandchild grew, and here I am!"

"Sweet potatoes? Oh, come off it—"

The grandfathers scowled. If he had anything useful to say, it should've been the name of some supplement he was taking — not bragging about his grandchild and driveling on about sweet potatoes. A starchy lump of carbs could not, by any law of nature, pack on muscles like that overnight.

"Don't believe me, do ye? Well, can't say I blame ye — I can hardly believe it myself, and I'm the one living it. ……Now, here's the thing. I went and steamed some sweet potatoes. Come on, then! Everybody have a bite!"

The moment Gwang-nam flipped open his lunchbox, a sweet, steamy fragrance billowed out. Even with lunch ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠finished and bellies full, it was a temptation fierce enough to make them believe they could eat.

"W-well then. Just one piece."

Elderly Man Im — the very one who'd first recognized Gwang-nam — finally surrendered to temptation, picked up a piece of sweet potato, and brought it to his mouth.

Gulp—

"!!!"