The Bread That Conquered the Stars
The bread we received was carefully packed into pre-prepared plastic bags. We then entrusted the wrapped loaves to the hired doll-alba, who distributed them one by one to the waiting people.
On the first day, roughly half the bread remained. Even though it was free, few people greedily devoured the unknown contents. The second day left even more. To clear the surplus, we visited the local orphanage and donated everything we could.
But the bread began to vanish starting on the third day. Through the planet’s internet, overwhelmingly positive reviews about the bread we had distributed flooded in.
And on the fourth day—the one we had been waiting for—the stall was set up in no time. Within ten minutes, the bread was gone.
From then on, we relocated constantly, moving to different spots every day to keep distributing the loaves. The more we gave away, the faster the rumor spread that “two natives in imperial military uniforms are handing out bread.” Our wheat became famous in turn.
While scrolling the planet’s internet, we spotted resellers quietly stocking the bread we had given them, ready to resell it.
Among them, our loaves traded at twenty to thirty cooper per bag—more than twenty times the price of ordinary bread. It went without saying how wildly popular they had become.
On the fifteenth day, we were treated like celebrities. The moment we stepped onto the streets, crowds formed, lining up for hours. Because of it, we couldn’t even walk outside; meals were delivered to us instead.
And on the twentieth day, we stopped handing out bread. The wheat we had brought was nearly exhausted.
The moment we vanished from sight, the internet exploded.
The voices calling out for us grew louder and louder. Of course, they would fade in time, but right now we had to act.
I handed the camera to the doll-alba and let him record everything. After greeting each other politely in the Zakum tongue, I stepped forward and began explaining the situation in fluent Arcadian.
“Hello. I am Sihyun, chief of the Zakum tribe. To you, I am better known as the native who distributes bread rather than my name. The bread we handed out was made from wheat I and Kumpa harvested ourselves on our planet. The wheat from BK-201 has an exceptionally rich flavor. I came all the way to Brontes to share this fact.”
I picked up a loaf.
“Moreover, our wheat is already being supplied to the Imperial Border Army under Baron Rittenberg. He was quite pleased with it, and the soldiers speak highly of it as well.”
Supplying to the military naturally builds trust.
“Still, even after the military contract, we have ninety million erans left. We want to sell this wheat. With the proceeds, we plan to pave roads on our planet, replace huts and wooden shelters with cement-and-concrete buildings, welcome immigrants, and continue reclamation until our world stands shoulder to shoulder with the advanced planets of the empire.”
We were drawing knowledge-seekers who championed planet self-determination to our side.
In the Cyclops Star System, many people were disgusted by the practice of large corporations blindly entering without consent, building factories, and dumping sewage while calling it civilization. In that light, how beautiful it would look if a planet could reach civilization on its own, without corporate interference?
And my thought proved perfectly true.
Knowledge people and politicians began leaving comments on my video.
As the intellectuals and politicians posted comments, interest in the bread naturally grew.
The baking industry took notice. Famous for its taste and now paired with the storytelling of “civilizing a primitive planet,” this wheat from a rimworld could make a fortune.
Countless large corporations sent buyers. Offers for exclusive contracts poured in.
And I placed the exclusive sales rights of the wheat up for auction.
Many corporations participated, and in the end the ninety million erans sold for 9,450 ducats.
9,450 ducats was enough to buy one used spaceship.
If asked whether I had lost or gained, the wheat I sold to Baron Rittenberg had fetched 525 ducats per ten million erans. This sale, however, brought 1,050 ducats per ten million erans.
Of course, the name recognition of Zakum wheat was still high, so the price was inflated. In the future, selling at the same rate would be difficult.
Still, I now held nearly ten thousand ducats in cash. That was a great deal of money. It was enough to buy several used spaceships, even if not a warship.
“Then shall we go buy one?”
Used spaceship.
-----
My current fortune stood at just over sixty thousand ducats. Fifty thousand had come from looting the pirate ship, 9,450 from the wheat sale, and the remaining thousand from my original savings.
With that sum, I could purchase a ship!
The place we found was a used-spaceship dealership.
“Welcome, customer!”
As soon as we entered, the clerk greeted us with a bright smile, clearly recognizing the imperial military uniforms we wore.
“Are you here to buy a ship?”
“Yes. But not an imperial military vessel—something we will actually take.”
“Ah…”
A flash of disappointment crossed his face. He had realized we were private buyers, not military customers. Still…
“I’d like to buy about five.”
“Ah!”
The clerk’s expression instantly brightened. He enthusiastically began showing the ships.
“This one is the FA-61 Spacer, a self-made product of Akamatsu Industries. Have you heard of Akamatsu? It’s one of the empire’s largest corporations. A product from such a firm naturally carries high reliability. Would you like to try it?”
“May I try it?”
“Of course! How can you buy something without testing it? Whether it’s a spaceship or a car, you have to try it to know if it’s good or not!”
“Then I won’t refuse.”
Kumpa and I boarded the vessel. It rose smoothly into orbit, and while demonstrating free flight, the clerk boasted about its performance.
Even I, a complete novice, could sense something was wrong.
This spaceship… isn’t in good condition?
Left turns were smooth, but right turns creaked oddly and the hull shook. When climbing to orbit, a strange grinding noise echoed. It was something I had never experienced on an imperial warship.
“May I try another ship?”
“Of course!”
We tested several more. Every single one showed defects.
“Hmm…”
This store seemed to collect only broken ships. Still, I greeted the clerk politely.
“Thank you. I saw the goods well. I’ll take a look around and come back.”
That was code for “I won’t be back.”
Then the dealer grabbed my wrist.
“Ah~ damn customer. You can’t do that.”
“What?”
“Do you know how much fuel it costs to rise to orbit? You made me fly the ship several times and still won’t pay the fuel? Natives like you eat manners like rice.”
“…”
You told me to just try it.
Watching the sudden change in attitude, I suddenly remembered something.
“Ah~”
Even in my home country of South Korea, used-car dealers often sold vehicles in poor condition.