Earth Needs Useless Things - 3
"Needed?"
"I can't provide supplies for free forever, you know. I have to get something in return."
"Are you saying you'll buy our moonbeam fiber?"
"I'm not taking it raw. If you make it into moonbeam cloth or clothes, I'll take that."
"Then I am grateful."
In truth, the supplies needed for a 'trade' weren't all that much. Just receiving some random goods was enough for the status window to recognize it as a trade.
The one item I planned to get from that colony—the Heart of the Storm—would suffice.
Still, they don't have much to offer.
Reduction in wood required for plank production. Generally, not a bad blessing. In a map short on wood, getting this as your first blessing could let you see the clear condition right away—it was that powerful.
But not now.
The land they'd settled was rich in wood. Trees were everywhere. Sure, it might slightly reduce the proportion of woodcutters needed, but it wouldn't cause any major issues.
The second one... is iffy too.
Reduction in time until despair sets in. In high-difficulty scenarios, this was a lifeline blessing you had to cling to. Depending on the situation, you might get missions forcing you to grit your teeth and secure food, wood, or stone while supplementing population happiness. In those cases, a blessing that let you maintain the colony as long as possible with minimal happiness had its merits.
But my strategy was to squeeze population happiness to the max, speed up the tempo, and farm blessings. I didn't need to worry about low happiness scenarios.
"Right... No matter how much cloth we sell, we can't get as many supplies as quickly as your aid provides."
"Exactly."
"Do I need to send the cloth right away?"
"The governor doesn't have enough cloth for personal use yet, so take your time."
For the Joinkind, cloth was an essential part of life. They needed heaps of it to build their nest-like homes, make countless clothes, and even for crafting dolls and paintings.
"As you say."
"Yes. For now, prepare as much cloth and clothing as possible. How's the spice suiting your tastes?"
"Everyone's satisfied. It must not have been easy to obtain..."
"No trouble at all. But it won't be easy for us to keep providing 'processed food.' There are limits on funds and transport volume."
The colony's population was steadily growing. My transport capacity was increasing bit by bit too, but I couldn't keep sending generous volumes of food nonstop like before.
"Understood. You'll provide spices and raw ingredients, and we'll build facilities to process them... That's how we'll run the colony."
"Yes. If possible, having a town hall and banquet hall built before year's end would be ideal."
"As you wish."
Industrial facilities were monsters that devoured manpower. You needed this for that, and that required yet another facility. Setting up production lines and training specialists all ate up time.
Five years. I didn't have much time, so I had to cut out the unnecessary cleanly.
Textile mill... perfect. It's a hotel.
Doing work you enjoyed brought no small amount of happiness in this world. If the Joinkind were making bricks or slaving over furnaces, even nice homes and good food couldn't offset the discomfort during work hours.
But making clothes was different. It suited them perfectly, like dwarves brewing beer or orcs slaughtering pigs at the slaughterhouse.
That's why veteran players of this game would build specific facilities for happiness—even if not immediately needed—and stuff population into them. Nicknamed 'hotels.'
I was turning that colony into a settlement where they gained nothing but 'their own happiness.'
Shaping the industrial structure so it can't be sustained without me from the start...
The Joinkind needed lots of cloth. But once they had facilities producing it in bulk, eventually production would outpace consumption.
With blessings boosting output and moonbeam farms securing massive moonbeam fiber, that tipping point would come even sooner.
Then they'd need someone to buy their moonbeam fiber. Passing merchants wouldn't buy that much cloth.
And even if they did, they couldn't provide enough supplies—food and raw materials the colony lacked—to fill all the gaps.
Perfect.
This way, they'd depend on me forever. Or precisely, for several years.
Now, they'd offer up the Heart of the Storm for me.
Shatinbelle Silkraise stared at the mountain of supplies piled before her.
...Unrealistic.
Unless in extreme situations, colonies basically made their essential supplies themselves. Merchants wandering outside cities braved countless threats and hardships.
Naturally, they shared that risk burden with the settlements they traded with. You couldn't just sell what you wanted, buy only what you wanted—it was all trades that felt like losses.
That was dealing with merchants.
But he...
Of course, cloth was important to the Joinkind. They felt comfort touching delicate fibers, happiness filling wardrobes with clothes.
But that drew scorn from other races. Take the dwarves: they felt comfort around stone and fire, just as Joinkind did with cloth. Their sturdy weapons, metals, and bricks were vital for survival—essentials without which the colony might fall.
Cloth was different. Joinkind wanted to drown the world in it, but realistically, it wasn't that crucial.
Deep down, they felt 'those who don't know nobility and elegance' were condemning their values. But they couldn't say it aloud. Not in this world, especially not in a colony.
Survival trumped beauty. How much it aided survival defined an item's worth.
Yet he says he'll keep buying it indefinitely. Even giving this much in return...
Shatinbelle closed her eyes, recalling the feel of cloth. The harvest was done; moonbeam fiber was being processed into smooth, beautiful fabric.
Ahh...
Her first term as governor was nothing like she'd imagined. The doctrines she'd studied for years, her plans—all trashed in hours.
Nothing went her way; soon she even suffered the humiliation of handing over her family robes.
Still...
Shatinbelle touched the clothes she wore—her custom uniform made from the colony's cloth. Smooth. This moment felt truly happy.
"S-sorry... I..."
"No, the young lady's just tense. Relax and rest easy."
"Y-yes! Yes!"
An Ria could only hang her head in endless self-loathing. She spat out words as they came, barely following the conversation.
Even if she'd made a gaffe, she probably wouldn't notice.
"Ah."
Snapping to, An Ria realized she was outside the apartment. It was night. Dazed, she boarded the subway.
Rush hour. Crowds streamed home from work.
She pushed against the flow.
"Ugh..."
She reached her station. The warehouse was still a ways off.
Her boss would tell her to take a taxi—save time, not walking distance.
But she walked. A useless person like her taking a taxi to the warehouse would just draw pity.
She walked. And thought.
This is tough...
Selling goods. Practicing with Jeong Isu, it seemed easy. Smile, explain pros and cons, sell the quantity they wanted.
No pay cut if you didn't sell. No aggressive upselling.
More like errands or delivery than door-to-door sales.
That's what she'd thought.
Why...
But alone, without that man, new problems appeared. Tricky questions, suspicious glares.
She couldn't handle them solo. Speak too positively, and she'd seem like a scammer peddling junk with lies. Too negatively, a lazy employee sabotaging the boss.
Beyond that, even talking was hard. She hated strangers.
I'm useless...
She'd had confident days once. Days when she thought she was the world's most talented, succeeding at anything.
Arrogant enough to yield opportunities to others.
Huh...
Looking back, it was laughable. Now she was too frail to survive without someone's mercy.
Introduced by her sister, she started working under Jeong Isu. But she didn't think she was essential to his business. She could tell he was puzzled.
No preparations for her role. He hired her because she needed his money, not because he needed her.
-You want to become a useless person?
That curse-like phrase from long ago still echoed in her ears.
Am I an idiot...?
She entered the warehouse. As always, she started cleaning the vast space bit by bit.
She couldn't even keep her own room tidy, but this warehouse—the space he'd allowed her—she wanted spotless.
Even worthless tasks; she wanted proof she was useful. Not for him, but to convince herself.
"Ugh..."
Dawn broke. Having swept and scrubbed the huge warehouse clean, An Ria entered the small room attached to it.
"Guess I'll crash here tonight... Huh?"
A mirror-fronted wardrobe caught her eye.
Maybe he stashed a uniform or something...
Rubbing her eyes, An Ria opened it. Inside hung a single garment.
In the empty wardrobe, one beautiful dress.
"Ahh..."
It was stunning. An artwork rivaling the finest she'd ever seen.
An Ria gazed at the thrilling, antique-style dress in rapture, all her self-loathing and gloom from moments ago forgotten.