Chapter 16
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 16
Chapter Title: Does Heat Spoil Food, or Not? (1)
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Dominic's idea was none other than a postpartum care center.
The very facility that had earned rave reviews from new mothers not just in 21st-century Korea, but in Japan, China, the US, and beyond!
Some clicked their tongues at the entry fees topping three million won for two weeks, muttering that it was "money rotting away in excess." But even so, demand overflowed from women willing to pay top dollar just to recover properly.
'Even the Korean-style centers in the US charge over $1,400 a day, and reservations are a battlefield.'
Dominic had already witnessed firsthand the stress noble ladies endured during postpartum recovery. Here, too, women would flock to it, money no object, as long as it promised healing.
"The problem is the money, though."
A few quick-witted members of the Fishing Cooperative grew serious as they listened to Dominic's plan and eyed the architectural sketches again.
"Money? We've made a ton! And next month, it'll be way more than this!"
"Dominic, got something in mind?"
Ignoring Kallon's words, the group's resident brains chatted directly with Dominic.
"Yeah. With what we've got, we can't build anything like a noble mansion anyway. The materials alone cost a fortune."
"True. But if we skimp too much, the noble ladies won't even stay there."
Whoosh—.
A cool wave crashed in right on cue behind Dominic. He spun around with a grin, facing the sea. Everyone's eyes naturally followed.
The subtle, turquoise-tinged waters of Evergreen Village filled their gazes.
"This beach has shallow waters, and the shoreline curves inward, so the waves never get too high."
"Right. That's why we can't launch fishing boats here—it's just a playground for the village kids. Useless land, basically."
"Farmer Turtles don't come this way either?"
"Of course not. Like we said, the depth's too shallow."
"And it's got that white sand laid out like a painting."
"...What are you getting at, Dominic?"
The spot was pretty to look at, sure, but good only for kids' sandcastles—no fishing, no harbor value.
"Sometimes, beauty is value in itself. Heh heh heh!"
Dominic laughed like a villain, brimming with confidence.
"We'll make nature and relaxation our big sell."
"Nature and relaxation?"
"All buildings as single-story bungalows, spaced out nicely. Big windows in the bedrooms, facing this shoreline. No need for pricey marble walls—wood's fine. Coat the outside in white clay, orange terracotta tiles on the roofs."
Dominic's words sped up.
The cooperative folks started skeptical—What's this kid on about now?—but the sharp ones began memorizing every detail. Vivid imaginations conjured the finished structures.
"Expensive paintings? No budget for that! Instead, wall hangings of macrame woven by the village's best aunties. No imported desert kingdom carpets—bamboo mats from young shoots. Oh, but we splurge where it counts: top-shelf bedding, soft and luxurious!"
Ecstasy dawned on their faces.
Dominic kept going.
"Outdoor decor matters too. No time or cash for statues. Instead, transplant trees, shrubs, flowers—like stepping into a forest. Flat stones and wood chips for garden paths."
He rattled off more: interiors, layouts, furniture colors. Training for staff at this "care center," how to recruit healers and priests.
Villagers, used to Dominic's novel ideas, just figured it was another fun invention. But Ian was different.
'Definitely not your average guy. Why's someone like him playing village chief in this backwater?'
Misunderstandings brewed unchecked.
Understandable—Dominic discoursed flawlessly on architecture, unrelated to food, in styles Ian and the villagers had never heard of.
'I'm mimicking a resort getaway.'
In a world scarce on even hotels, Dominic bet this style would hook the noblewomen.
Evergreen Fishing Village's historic first transformation was stirring.
"Ugh... This is such a pain."
Ian clicked his tongue at Dominic, half-draped over the donkey.
"Not very village chief-like."
"No, seriously—why does this meeting cycle back so fast? I've got a mountain of work already; I'm dying here."
Dominic was trudging back to the lord's castle for the village chiefs' meeting, sooner than he'd like.
At first, he'd thought once a month was manageable. Now it felt way too frequent.
"Still, didn't Anton the Merchant Group Leader gift you this donkey? Be grateful."
"Yeah, sure. But if he's buying, why not a horse? A donkey—what's up with that?"
"You could ride a horse if he did?"
"I'd hitch it to a cart or something. Why?"
Horses were huge beasts. Taller than donkeys altogether.
And Dominic had never learned to ride.
'Can't even handle that—definitely not some disguised noble wandering the world.'
Ian scratched one hypothesis about Dominic.
"Those guys'll just yap nonsense again... Ugh, I hate going. And it's scorching."
Sinclair County boasted mild weather year-round. But as summer neared, gentle sun turned furnace-hot, breezes like AC exhaust.
Shade helped, but not on donkey-back.
"Castle gates in sight, though. Almost there."
"Hey! Guardsman!"
Ian waved; Dominic, spotting it, greeted the gate soldier—the same senior who'd once chased him down.
"Long time! Meeting?"
"You know it."
"Tough gig."
"You're the one standing post in this heat. Don't you rotate shifts?"
"Rookies are at outdoor training. Temp kitchen outside needs hands."
"Outdoor training in this weather? Oof. Salt up between sets—you'll drop."
"Will do. Open gates!"
Dominic shook his head at the easy banter.
"Eating outdoors, of all things?"
"War prep training. Can't leisurely dine in the mess if enemies are at the door."
Dominic's face crumpled.
'Nooo—don't think about it. Past life! Not enlisting this time. Never. Ugh.'
Memories of old drills made him shudder.
"...They train in this heat? Sleeping and eating outside? In summer?"
"War prep doesn't care about seasons."
"Well..."
Botched summer drills could kill.
He bit his tongue—civilian meddling in military affairs? No thanks.
"I'll see the lord."
"Yeah. Off to the meeting."
Post-Ian split, the chiefs' meeting dragged with trivialities.
"We handle green clothes for the new young master's gift!"
"Blue ones on us, then?"
"We said blue earlier, you dolt!"
Debating colors for baby gifts to the count's family.
'Just draw lots. Sigh.'
Yawning in the back, a servant boy knocked.
"Chiefs, the lord just spoke at the soldiers' outdoor training camp and will lunch with them."
"Oho! Let's go!"
"Obviously! Lead on—where?"
"Seeing the lord? Lucky day!"
"Right!"
One more hassle piled on.
'What's lucky about seeing the lord?'
Baffling to Dominic. But with the lord cheering troops personally, they had to clap along.
'This month's meeting: applause duty.'
Outside was hotter—the sun climbing higher.
"Chief Dominic! Over here!"
"This way!"
His minor fame drew friendly waves to empty seats.
No reason to refuse—until something caught his eye.
"Urk!"
A soldier retching behind a training tent.
"Rough training, huh. Tsk."
"Training? This is peacetime pampering! Back in our day, full gear, four hours running!"
"Old tales again."
Chiefs bantered idly, but Dominic tilted his head.
'Puking fountains?'
Rare for grown men—kids, maybe. Not adults spraying like hoses.
Maybe not just exertion upchucking breakfast.
"Hey."
"Bleurgh... Huh? Me?"
"When'd it start?"
"Huh?"
"Nausea with chills? Diarrhea, fever?"
"Uh... Nausea hit just now, chills too. Stomach hurts..."
Since morning?
Clue in hand, Dominic patted the soldier's shoulder and bee-lined for the field kitchen.
"Here already? Figured you'd show for the chiefs' meeting. Just saying hi?"
The head cook beamed familiarly.
'Lucky—know this guy.'
Multiple collabs since offal days built trust. Cook didn't mind Dominic barging in, even joked, "Busy as hell—lend a hand?"
"Mind if I look around?"
"Eh? Sure, but nothing fancy. Looking for something?"
No answer—Dominic's eyes darted.
Then—
"Found it."