A Friend from the Forest
"Mom's just running out to grab some groceries!"
Mother flashed a bright smile and darted out of the house in a flash.
I ambled off toward the kitchen, feeling a little awkward. I set down the fifty lettuce pills I'd been holding up from the cupboard on a small plate.
Would she need to take them before drinking, I wondered? Or would afterward be better?
Mulling it over, I slipped out of the house and headed for the fields. Father and Grandfather seemed to have gone out to look over the farmland we'd entrusted to others — which made sense, since the crops planted there were just about ready for harvest anyway.
In that case, why don't I harvest what's left in our own fields? Nothing around to get in my way, so I could use magic as freely as I liked.
I was about to start making my rounds from the sweet potato field when—
Shshshk—
Something came skittering through the soil at high speed. Then it popped up with a boing, poking its face out.
"...Bong-gu, what are you doing over there?"
The little guy was wearing an extraordinarily innocent grin. An expression I'd never seen on him before. What was that? Why was he making a face like—
"Ji-on! Let me introduce you!!"
"Huh?"
"This is my friend!"
"Your... friend?"
Don't tell me there was another honey badger on this tiny patch of land? Where on earth had this friend come from?
As I looked down at Bong-gu in bewilderment, he wiggled forward. Or rather, a different creature carrying him on its back came waddling into view.
"And this is..."
Not a honey badger. It was something I'd seen on TV before — a plump, round little body covered in bristly brown fur. Four stubby legs with pale pink paw pads. A squat little tail and twitchy little ears. And that snout, huffing and puffing away, ticklishly sniffing the air!
That was a baby wild boar.
And where there was a baby boar...
I hastily peeled Bong-gu off the little one's back. "Where did you get this kid?!"
"Met him in the forest over there! Went on patrol, took a quick walk, and there he was! He's my friend!"
Friend, my foot! This guy was a ticking time bomb — one about to detonate in the form of an enormous mother wild boar at any moment.
"Quick, take him back to where you—"
—brought him from.
That was the exact moment I was about to say it.
Squee- Squee-
Too late. She'd appeared.
"GWAAAAH!!"
...Hah, my luck was looking pretty vicious today.
"GWOOOEEEKK!!!"
The mother wild boar was angry. Not just angry — absolutely furious. How did I know? You'd have to be blind not to. The boar's eyes were practically spinning in her head!
The one silver lining was that the greenhouses should be safe. Even if she charged and slammed into one, the mana-shielded plastic wouldn't take a scratch. But everyone else's fields? No telling how far she'd rampage. Danger, all of it.
I rushed to cast a spell to calm her down.
Anpus Brisa—
The wind that calls for peace. A gentle breeze, mild as a spring day, wrapped around the mother boar in an instant. The madness drained from her wild eyes. Finally regaining her senses, she began looking around — and spotting her baby, she turned her steps toward it.
Only then could I breathe a sigh of relief. Bong-gu, who'd been dangling off my shoulder in a panicked scramble the whole time, sagged in relief as well, going completely limp.
"...Ji-on, I'm sorry."
"You cause every disaster imaginable and think an 'I'm sorry' settles it, you little—?"
I rapped him on the head. Before my eyes, the baby boar and its mother were nuzzling against each other, checking each other over. Once the mother confirmed her baby was unharmed, she glared at me and let out a squeal.
"Gwik! Kkyuk!"
No idea what she was saying. I glanced at Bong-gu, who shuffled his feet and mumbled, "She says she's letting it slide today, and that she's leaving now."
"Ha. Letting it slide, is it."
What a cheeky boar. Still, it seemed this was her first time coming down to the village. I waved my hand at her, shooing her along, and Bong-gu sent a big, round-eyed look after the baby boar.
"Take care, friend!"
Seeing Bong-gu look so wistful tugged a little at my heart. Maybe I really should find this guy a proper friend.
Lightly rubbing the head I'd just smacked, I asked, "Nothing happened to the fields while I was gone, right?"
"Of course not! I guarded them well. A born guardian."
He puffed out his chest proudly, his fluffy fur trembling. "Good work."
I snapped off a sweet potato vine for him and pointed to the wooden platform on the path nearby. "I'm going to be pretty busy from here on out, so hop up there."
"I help?"
"Helping means getting up on that platform and staying there. Munch on that and enjoy the scenery."
I would've loved to show him the work, but the inside of the greenhouse wasn't visible from the platform — nothing to be done about it. Bong-gu's face fell, and he trudged up onto the platform and sat down.
Come to think of it, he seemed to have developed a bit of a belly lately. Was that all right, Seo Bong-gu?
Turning my back on him, I stepped inside the greenhouse and checked on the field. Everything was growing well, not a single spoiled crop in sight.
Well then — time to get down to some serious harvesting.
Over the past few days, as the impurities in my mana circle had been filtered out, both the quality and quantity of usable mana had grown by leaps and bounds. With the impurities that had been squatting inside my circle gone, fresh mana had rushed in to fill the empty space. My current state was roughly comparable to that of a mage who'd ordinarily reached the 3rd Circle.
In other words, I could now attempt large-scale magic. There was a risk of exhaustion, but for someone as practiced at mana control as I was, that was no threat at all.
I stretched out both hands, pointing one toward each end of the greenhouse.
I could have used Eladico, the spell I'd used for weeding, but pulling them out that way was bound to bruise the crops in the process — and its range was too narrow besides. I'd have to repeat it several times to clear this whole greenhouse. A crop deserves a gentler harvest.
A spell built by combining a drawing-out incantation that spared the roots with an auxiliary formula for designating range.
'Sergis Maxima.'
It lifted everything within the designated maximum range out of the earth, roots and all. In other words, it yanked up everything in the space I indicated.
Mana swirled from my outstretched fingertips. In an instant, the ground across the entire area I'd marked began to glow — a bright, brilliant white.
Thud-rumble- fwoom, pop.
The soil split open, and the crops buried beneath came surging up. The roots connected beneath the vines were drawn out one after another. Dozens of sweet potatoes, wrapped in mana, wriggled as they floated into the air. I carefully transferred them onto the harvest cart, then slowly retracted my mana. The hovering potatoes drifted gently down into the cart.
No loud clattering — they'd landed without a single bruise. A single cart couldn't hold the entire harvest, so I piled the rest in a heap on the ground nearby. After checking over the harvested sweet potatoes, I stepped out of the greenhouse.
"I could just keep going with this, couldn't I?"
And so I moved on to the next greenhouse, and the one after that, harvesting every last sweet potato. By the time I finished the fourth greenhouse, I could feel my limits creeping closer.
I was heading toward the platform where Bong-gu sat to take a breather when he blinked awake and asked, "Whoa, Ji-on? What's that? Is it Mom?"
Far off in the distance, Mother was walking toward us — both hands loaded with two enormous grocery baskets. I could practically hear the clink-clank of liquor bottles knocking together all the way from here. Those had to be heavy.
"Ji-on! Come inside and eat!"
"Coming—"
I snapped to it, tidied up, and got to my feet. I gathered Bong-gu too, and we headed inside. I'd need to replant sweet potato vines in the empty spots after the harvest, but that would have to wait until after dinner.
Back home, I washed up and helped Mother prepare dinner. The sweet fragrance of chestnut rice drifting from the rice cooker, meat sizzling away on the grill — stew, steamed egg, and all manner of seasoned greens — a full holiday spread was coming together.
"How about some seasoned lettuce tonight?"
"Ah."
Not tonight. It was time to test the lettuce pills.
But... seasoned lettuce. And I had to give it up? Urgh...
Squeezing my eyes shut, I spoke. Farewell, seasoned lettuce!
"Let's save that for tomorrow. Tonight, please try the lettuce pills I made first."
"Lettuce pills?"
"Yes. I was thinking of making lettuce into pill form to sell, but I don't know how it compares in effect."
Mother mulled it over for a moment, then said, "Last time, when I ate the lettuce straight, the effect was incredible. Not a trace of a hangover."
"Exactly — so I'd like you to try the pills tonight and then tell me the difference between the two."
"All right, then."
Mother smiled warmly and patted my head. For an instant, my whole body went stiff. The sensation of warmth brushing over my hair was still unfamiliar.
It's okay to get used to this by now, though.
Because they're family. Yes... they are my family.
Riding the momentum, I eased into the other thing I wanted to ask. "Um, Mother? There's one more thing I'm curious about."
"What is it?"
"Could I maybe join you for just one drink tonight—"
"No."
"Just the one drink—"
"Mm, no."
Not a chance, then. Urgh — first the seasoned lettuce, and now alcohol was saying goodbye too. Fine... four more years of holding out. That much time would fly right by. Just a little longer.
"We're home—"
Father and Grandfather had returned. Right on cue, the pressure cooker let out a shrill beep! Dinner was finally served.
"What's that? My Ji-on got a perfect score!!"
The first to go down was Grandfather. He sang praises of his brilliant, perfect-scoring grandchild, fired off a round of soju like a bottle barrage, and keeled over. He hadn't managed to take the lettuce pills beforehand, so I planned to feed them to him when he woke tomorrow. One pill had always been the right dose, so that would be five pills' worth.
Mother was next. She swallowed five pills in one gulp and retired to her room with six bottles of makgeolli.
And last, Father. Father did not fall. Unlike the other two, he'd been drinking slowly, and only a little.
His face flushed a faint pink, he smiled and said, "Ji-on, I'm proud of you."
"Proud of me? Please."
Those were words you should be saying to yourself, Father. It was Father who deserved the pride — the man who'd fought tooth and nail to hold together a family that could have shattered at any moment.
I decided to say what I'd been wanting to say.
"Father."
"Hm? What is it?"
"Thank you for believing in what I wanted to do, and for helping me."
Without Father, we might never have pulled off the contract with Taeram — let alone bought up the farmland in Jakgol-ri. It was only because he'd reviewed the documents and put together every necessary condition that any of it had been possible.
"No — it's me who should be thanking you. When did our Ji-on grow up so much that he can protect this family now..."
His son was fifteen, a second-year middle schooler. Fifteen was still such a young age. And yet the boy thought with a seasoned fluency, as if he'd weathered a lifetime of storms. Nothing seemed to hold him back from trying new things.
It was all his father's own fault. Because he'd been incompetent, his young son had felt the full weight of the world. Because he hadn't been able to shield him.
Seo Jae-mun drained the last of the liquor from his glass. It tasted bitter.
Watching him, Seo Ji-on spoke up. "Father, there's one more thing I'd like to ask of you."
"A request? Name it."
His father wore a gentle smile that seemed ready to grant anything, and toward it, Seo Ji-on said, "Start a company again. Please."
"What?"
"The company you used to run — it was a food business, wasn't it?"
The company Father had built had been small in scale, but a sturdy, solid food enterprise — well run enough to have gone public with ease. A stock manipulation ring had latched onto it and dragged it down in the end, but when it came to running a business, Father knew his field inside and out.
"The farm alone isn't enough."
Growing crops on the farm was, of course, rewarding and joyful work. But now that I'd set my mind on making serious money, farming alone could carry us no further.
"I'll run the farm. You take charge of sales."
Mother and Grandfather worked hard and helped all they could, but neither had ever run a company in any organized way. Until now I'd delegated the farm entirely to Father, but with all of Jakgol-ri absorbed into our operation, there was no longer any need to keep it that way.
"I trust you, Father."
Father would build the company into something great — he was exactly the kind of man who could. As I said it, I met his eyes, and—
"...Ji-on. Thank you."
There were tears welling in my father's eyes.
"Truly — thank you, and I'm sorry."
His voice was a tangle of joy and sorrow.
He'd thought he was finished — nothing but a broken man. Even when his son's help had brought him back to his family, back to a life with dignity in it, he'd believed this was as far as things could go.
But there had been a next chapter after all. A chance to stand back up had been waiting.
No one knew how many times he'd wanted to die alone in that foreign land, far from his family. But he couldn't. He had to live. And now, it felt as though he was finally being paid back for what he'd endured there.
As Seo Jae-mun's shoulders shook, his son quietly took his hand.
"Father — this is where we start over."