The World's Largest Loach
She clearly wanted me to show her the world's largest loach fish up close. It was obvious she meant she'd take it home if she liked the look of it.
I didn't want to part with the loach, so I clutched the creel to my chest and agonized over it for a good long while. Whether it was right to hand it over to the girl.
A week's worth of lodging fees. And though it was just a single spoonful, the most delicious soup I'd ever tasted in this life. The fine clothes and tea I'd worn and sipped for the first time since coming to this world.
After weighing it all, I came to a decision. I should give the girl the loach.
"H-here you go..."
I approached her with the creel in hand. The loaches, brimming with life, were wriggling and flipping inside it.
"Whoa, those fish are huge!"
"Y-yes. This might actually be the world's biggest loach..."
"No way, for real?"
The girl's eyes went wide as saucers. Her look of shock didn't seem the least bit fake.
Maybe I could settle that one-spoonful soup debt with this loach after all.
"Um, should I cook it for you?"
"Cook it? You, Winter?"
"Yes. It's the world's biggest loach, after all..."
I kept harping on the size. The chewy texture would be out of this world—my own little sales pitch.
"Hmm... All right, then. Think I'll try some of Winter's cooking."
"Yes!"
The debt's gone! Bursting with joy, I dashed into the tent with the creel.
I filled the dented pot with stream water, and soon the girl was squatting right beside me.
"Winter, unnie's got something she's curious about."
"Curious?"
"Yeah. Like, how do you handle it when a typhoon hits or a wild boar shows up?"
She wanted to know my crisis management skills. The better I came across, the more awkward it'd be for my kidnapper.
Her intentions were way too obvious—I didn't want to tell her—but I needed to make sure she saw I wasn't some pushover.
"There's an evacuation shelter over there."
"Evacuation shelter? You've got one of those?"
"Yes. Wanna see?"
I led her to the massive rubber drum tucked in the corner of the tent. Plenty big enough for an adult woman to fit inside.
"This is your evacuation shelter...?"
"Yep. Super sturdy. A wild boar rammed it last time and it held up fine."
"A real wild boar charged it...?"
"Yes. But I held firm."
To keep it from toppling, I'd buried the bottom in the dirt. For extra weight, I'd packed it full of fist-sized rocks and soil. No typhoon could ever knock it over—a cozy, safe haven.
Pretty impressive, huh? That's the look I shot her.
I'd spent a full day crafting that shelter, and I was pretty proud of it.
"...And this gets you through typhoons?"
"Yes. I've survived four with it."
"I... I see."
Her face went stiff. Probably thrown off by how capable I was.
Time to lean into it a bit more, act all confident.
"The stream flooded once and nearly swept the drum—and the house—away. After that, I moved the house farther back and weighted the drum down even more."
Crisis response honed by experience. Lightning-quick decisions. I laid all my skills bare for her.
She must've realized I wasn't easy prey, because she squeezed her eyes shut. Rubbed her face dry and let out a heavy sigh.
"Th-that's... incredible..."
"Yes. I'm incredible."
She'd feel it in her bones now: I wasn't someone to mess with. Satisfied with the win, I got to work prepping the loaches.
There were a whopping twenty in the creel.
"Can't eat the fingernail-sized ones. Too hard to clean."
"Oh? So you release them back into the stream?"
"No, I dry 'em out, grind 'em up, and use 'em as fertilizer for the garden. Makes the plants grow way better."
Letting something this precious go? What a wasteful idea.
"Ah, fertilizer, huh..."
"Yep. Fertilizer."
I spread them out on a wide stone slab and grabbed the dull knife. With practiced motions, I scraped off the scales, slit their bellies, and pulled out the guts. I'd dry those separately for more fertilizer.
"You handle 'em like a pro."
"...I'm a master at gutting."
Whoa. Did that come out scary as hell? I snuck a peek at her face, but she was just peering at the loaches with wide-eyed curiosity.
Words like "gutting" apparently didn't faze the crazy witch.
"You eat 'em raw?"
"No, gotta boil water first..."
Eating freshwater fish raw? Only a crazy witch would even think it.
Not wanting to stick around her any longer, I snatched up the prepped loaches and bolted out of the tent.
"Where're you off to?"
"Lighting the fire!"
Right in front of the tent sat the barbecue grill I'd scavenged sometime ago. No pricey charcoal for me—I crammed it full of twigs and leaves and lit 'em with the lighter.
Almost out of lighter fluid.
Why did my life never get any better? I sighed sadly, and that's when the girl sidled up beside me.
"Thanks for having me over today."
"Y-yeah..."
Now she knew where I lived—no more running away for me. The threat hung heavy in her words.
"Hey, unnie's got a favor to ask. Think you could help me out?"
"F-favor?"
"Yeah. Nothing huge—I wanna sleep over at your place tonight."
Guh. She tossed out the horrifying suggestion without a second thought. I knew she was just messing with me.
"It'll be rough, you know? A spider might crawl in your mouth while you're sleeping."
"It's fine. Unnie's an adventurer, after all."
"True..."
Talking filth and danger to an adventurer? Might as well strut a fan in front of a peacock.
I knew I couldn't shove her out at my level, so I nodded reluctantly.
"Thanks. Unnie'll make it up to you for sure."
"Y-yeah..."
What kind of terrifying payback was she planning? I got so scared I just stared at the ground for ages.
Maybe I was doomed to stay in her clutches forever.
That dawn, in the pitch-black tent without a sliver of light, Yeoreum cautiously opened her eyes. Curled up beside her, fast asleep, was Winter.
"Mmm..."
The girl lay with torn rags for a pillow and a threadbare blanket pulled over her. The chilly mountain air at dawn had her shivering all over.
No other blankets around?
She glanced around, but nothing caught her eye. With no choice, Yeoreum shrugged off her coat and draped it over Winter's tiny frame.
Time...
Two a.m.—time to meet her comrades. Yeoreum slipped quietly out of the tent, careful not to wake her.
"Yeoreum, over here."
"Got it."
She headed toward the voice, and two figures emerged from the darkness. A hulking man easily over two meters tall, and a woman with a staff and fierce eyes.
"So, how was it?"
"Worse than I could've imagined. Horrific."
"That bad, huh..."
How horrific could it be? The man and woman exchanged uneasy glances.
"Today Winter caught some loaches and cooked 'em up—no salt, just boiled 'em plain."
"Straight-up raw?"
"Yeah."
Yeoreum recounted the entire day to the pair who'd come for her—from foraging dandelions to the shelter story.
Just that one day's tale was enough to drain the color from their faces.
"W-what do we do? I laughed last time when she was chased by a Horn Rabbit."
Never dreamed a Horn Rabbit could actually kill someone. She'd seemed like a kid fleeing a scary hamster or something.
If they'd known it was a mana-less child risking her life to run... they never would've pulled that stupid stunt.
How terrified must she have been?
Thud—the woman dropped her staff and buried her face in her hands.
But no one rushed to comfort her. They'd all tormented the kid without meaning to.
"...I even chewed out the guild folks to stop bothering her."
At least no one had ever hit her—that was something. The man sighed inwardly in relief, only to remember something worse.
The kid got picked on constantly by other beginner adventurers. Smacked in the back of the head, shoved around for no reason.
He'd told the bullies, "Cut it out," but never with real heart. Deep down, he'd hoped she'd stop coming to the hunting grounds altogether—always needing guild bailouts.
"Ugh."
The man clawed at his hair. The woman's legs buckled, and she collapsed to her knees like she was bowing.
Child abuse that needed no excuses. The guild deserved to be torn apart, and they'd have nothing to say.
"Both of you, calm down. Better late than never, right?"
"Yeah... at least we know now."
What if Yeoreum hadn't checked the kid's info that day? Lifetime regrets, or maybe just cleaning up a body no one ever knew about.
What they'd thought was the worst turned out to be the best-case scenario.
"Head back to the guild first and report the situation."
"Right. We'll take care of her from our side?"
"Obviously."
They'd started this mess. They'd fix it themselves.
As Yeoreum nodded, the man who'd been listening silently finally spoke.
"This won't wrap up quick."
"...Yeah. After all that long-term torment, earning trust'll take time."
It'd demand endless patience, but no one there would complain. Not in Yeomyeong Guild, at least.