The Bread and the Salt
Fluffy, massive white lumps packed tight inside transparent plastic bags. They were perfectly refined white loaves of bread—a sight the serfs and commoners of Eden, who lived on a diet of black bread, would struggle to see even once in their lifetimes.
Beside them were thick plastic sacks filled with coarse, white crystals. In a place that had lost its access to rock salt mines and the sea, this was salt—a vital necessity of life, more precious than gold.
Finally, several heavy 2-liter bottles of clear, bottled water rolled out with a thud.
"White... bread."
"It’s white bread! Good heavens, look at how soft it is!"
The cries of the nuns, who had been red-faced and screaming about heresy and apostasy just moments ago, vanished into thin air. Their hollow eyes were now filled only with the overwhelming temptation of carbohydrates, sodium, and clear water.
"We’re saved! We’re actually saved!"
Someone let out a cry of joy bordering on a shriek, lunging at the bread bags and tearing them open like a wild animal. She ripped off a hunk of white bread, shoved it into her mouth, and burst into tears at the soft, sweet taste. Other nuns grabbed the salt sacks and water bottles, sprinting out of the room like madwomen to call the children from the infirmary.
In an instant, the area in front of the altar became a chaotic festival. Only Aria stood amidst the frenzy, staring blankly at the bread and salt.
"Ah... bread and salt..."
Aria’s lips trembled. She was a high-ranking cleric. She was a high saintess who understood the meaning of ancient rituals and symbols better than anyone.
Bread and salt. This was not the custom of hospitality found on Earth, meant to guarantee the safety and welcome of a guest. Instead, in the old customs of Eden, bestowing bread and salt upon someone signified absolute "subjugation" and a "contract."
It was the symbol of an absolute oath: a lord sharing bread with a subordinate to take responsibility for their life, and feeding them salt to guarantee that the vow would never rot and would remain unchanged forever.
It was no coincidence that this unknown Outer God had chosen these two specific items out of countless foods to toss down in such massive quantities.
'This is a declaration of war, and a final proposal of marriage.'
Aria stared blankly at the white salt crystals rolling on the floor. There was no room left for clumsy excuses or escape. Through the symbolism of bread and salt, the Outer God was demanding her final decision.
Would she die a noble, withered death in the name of the God of Light? Or would she chew and swallow this sweet bread and unchanging salt, offering her complete loyalty and soul to this unknown Outer God?
Deep despair and resignation crossed Aria's eyes as she realized the moment for an irreversible decision was right before her.
After delivering a generous supply of white bread, coarse salt, and bottled water from my inventory, I leaned back deep into my chair.
"As expected, for a human to survive, salty sodium and carbohydrates are essential."
I smiled with satisfaction as I watched the nuns on the screen tearing into the bread like crazy. Since I’d poured that much supplies into them, they should have roughly understood my intentions.
"They say in Russia, when a distinguished guest arrives, they offer bread and salt as a sign of hospitality and welcome, right? I’m sure this otherworld neighborhood will take it as a friendly gesture, too. Meaning, 'This is how much I cherish and welcome you.'"
I was counting my chickens before they hatched, never dreaming that Saintess Aria was misinterpreting the bread and salt as a terrifying symbol of "subjugation and oaths" and falling into despair.
"And this isn't the end. I can support them with a full set of warm soup, powdered milk, and portable gas burners. Hehehe."
Just imagining it made my mouth curl up to my ears. I planned to use these cost-effective groceries to max out their favorability and suck every last gold and silver coin the saintess possessed into my account.
And there was one final, crucial step to put the finishing touch on this perfect "rice-farming" business: the Apostle Contract.
Fortunately, the system window didn't require any separate Divinity Points to issue an Apostle Contract. "Even if this system is crazy about loan-sharking, if it demanded points for this, it would basically be telling me to start a crazy game—no, a crazy sponsorship play—where I take out a loan just to farm rice. So, it must have felt a prick of conscience."
I snorted and carefully reviewed the [Apostle Contract] template I’d floated in the middle of the screen one more time.
It was the result of me refining the clauses over and over, using the experience I’d gained from writing job applications and labor contracts back in the day. The key was to package it so it didn't offend Saintess Aria, making me look like the most friendly and reasonable business partner possible.
[Article 1. This Outer God guarantees the survival and safety (food and water) of Saintess Aria and her refugees.]
[Article 2. In return, Saintess Aria shall faithfully pay regular prayers and offerings (material tributes) to this Outer God.]
[Article 3. Special Clause: Should the original 'God of Light' whom Aria served return, it is guaranteed that this contract may be terminated at any time, provided a reasonable amount of gold and silver is paid as a penalty fee, allowing a return to the original faith.]
That Article 3 special clause, in particular, was a stroke of genius, even if I do say so myself. If the goal was just "rice-farming" and not a simple game, there was no need to grab the saintess by the soul and shake her. It was obvious that if I opened an escape route for a noble saintess who hated being tied down—telling her she could return anytime if she just paid the penalty—she’d be much more likely to stamp it without resistance. I just needed to suck up the Divinity Points and the gold and silver treasures to cash out.
However, the uncomfortable phrase at the very end of the contract—[This contract is signed in blood and sworn upon the soul]—was a system default that couldn't be modified. But what could I do? In this deep, dark apocalypse fantasy, I’d just have to let that bit of "concept play" slide.
"It’s been a while since I did paperwork, but it turned out pretty well."
I looked at the screen, satisfied with my handiwork. The chapel had now turned into a chaotic festival, with even the children running out to devour the bread and salt like wild animals.
"There’s no merchant like hunger, after all."
As I watched that desperate yet joyful scene, a different thought crossed my mind. 'Are other places in a similar situation to this one?'
Aria’s group in this castle was lucky enough to meet a great sponsor like me, but I couldn't even imagine how desperate the situation must be for refugees dying in other places.
Out of curiosity, I scrolled through the menu list. Then, I found a feature I quite liked.
[Description: Uses the contracted saintess as a relay to establish a remote spiritual contact network with scattered believers of the original faith. This allows for observation of other factions across the fog of war, remote sponsorship, and the signing of new Apostle Contracts.]
"Oh, this is basically the fantasy version of Elon Tuskham’s satellite wireless internet, isn't it?"
If I could unlock this feature properly, I could put not just this place, but other survivors under my management, collecting divinity and gold coins like an octopus. It was the moment the blueprint for a massive "rice-farming" network was drawn.
"Later on, I should check if there’s a feature to have physical tributes like gold or silver delivered directly to my room instead of just cashing them out. Selling antiques or otherworld magic stones myself would be much more profitable. Of course, I don't know if this system, which is obsessed with fees, will just let that slide."
Having finished my happy business planning in my head, I focused back on the present. Now was the moment of truth.
I dragged the [Apostle Contract] I’d carefully written with my mouse and dropped it right at Aria’s feet.
Whoosh! A brilliant golden light struck the middle of the chapel where the chaotic bread party was taking place.
Everyone’s movements froze in unison. They stopped chewing their bread, huddled together like beasts, and stared at the remnants of the light with awe-filled eyes.
On the stone floor in front of the altar, where the golden light had faded, lay a single, worn piece of parchment emitting a faint blue magical energy.
"Ah..."
A thin sigh escaped Aria’s lips. Her shoulders began to tremble violently. Her soul instinctively knew that the final moment she had anticipated had arrived.
Clenching her fists, Aria approached the parchment on the floor, one careful step at a time. Her heavy footsteps were like those of a death-row inmate walking toward the guillotine.
Watching the scene from beyond the monitor, I held my breath and cheered.
"Yeah, that’s it. No need to be scared! Just read through it, prick your thumb for a drop of blood, and stamp it. If you don't like it, you can just pay the penalty fee and convert later, so don't be a coward and sign it!"
My impure, capitalistic cheering was sending waves without echoes over the heavy air of the otherworld. Aria finally stopped in front of the parchment and slowly knelt down.