Chapter 6
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Translator: volt
Chapter: 6
Chapter Title: Mysticism (Revised)
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“Uh, um... could you possibly take us in...? We’ll do anything!”
Done.
I barely held back a cheer upon hearing that response.
I’d finally established a ‘friendly faction’ in this unfamiliar world.
Surviving here alone was next to impossible.
The natives would want to bash the weird guy who suddenly popped up on their land.
And the white settlers would want to bash the weird guy who popped up after trying to steal their land.
I had to strike some kind of balance between those two while pursuing my own survival.
And right now...
“...It’s hard to give you a firm answer right away. Let me think it over.”
“Uh... yes?”
This was my last chance to gain the upper hand in front of these white settlers.
There were only about thirty Englishmen in front of me.
I’d saved them from starving to death, so if they had any humanity left, they’d know what gratitude was.
Plus, they’d come to me first, with their resources and weapons in pathetic shape.
Of all the scenarios I’d imagined, this was the best-case one.
So.
I hesitated for a moment first. Accepting too eagerly might expose a weakness.
“...”
“...”
The longer my silence stretched, the more anxious murmurs rippled through the Englishmen. After several minutes, when the quiet had thickened...
As soon as I opened my mouth, every eye locked onto me.
“...Very well.”
At my answer, cheers erupted alongside prayers and sobs from all around.
Eleanor couldn’t hold back her emotions either. Her hands trembled as she bowed her head briefly, clenched her fists... then lifted her gaze and spoke. Her eyes were red-rimmed.
“Th-thank you...”
“One condition.”
I raised a finger in front of the excited Eleanor.
“Having you all come to our settlement would be a burden.”
“Th-that’s fine! Just let us settle nearby! If you could share a little food...”
“Would that really be enough? If you build a village near our settlement, we can help you get established. Seeds and tools too, if you want.”
“...”
“In exchange, just keep one promise.”
“...What’s the condition? We’ll keep it, anything!”
To Eleanor’s question, I answered with the gentlest smile I could manage.
“...I only ask that our friendship endures.”
...I can’t believe it.
Eleanor nearly pinched her own cheek.
He’d allow them to settle nearby.
He’d help them build a village.
He’d even provide tools and seeds.
And in return... nothing.
The terms were so generous she was left dumbfounded, like a child receiving an unexpected gift.
“W-we can’t just take this! If there’s anything we can offer, we will!”
“Pardon? What could you give me?”
“Mr. Nichols here is a tailor! If you need any clothes mended...”
“I have plenty of clothes.”
“Ah... then...”
“It’s fine. We need a few days to prepare anyway, so please wait.”
“...Thank you...”
“No need. If you really feel bad, lend a hand now and then.”
A few more empty pleasantries were exchanged, and then he left.
“...”
“...”
“...”
No one spoke first. They just stared at each other.
Painful memories from the past flashed through their minds.
Even reaching the New World had been a trial of hardships.
The capricious ship captain’s whim had made them miss planting season, landing them not at their intended destination but on the swampy island of Roanoke.
Fishing and crabbing had drawn attacks from hostile tribes, killing a few. Their retaliation raid had mistakenly hit allies.
Starvation had dogged them constantly. On the way to this Croatoan Island, more had drowned. And here, they’d nearly starved again.
Eleanor could imagine all sorts of horrors: infighting leading to murder, or raids from hostile tribes.
If that ‘saving hand’ had come just a little later... it might have happened.
And now, that savior had promised another chance.
He’d help them achieve the ‘new life’ that had brought them here.
“C-could this be some satanic temptation? Like hellfire waiting if we follow him to his settlement...?”
“What devil in the world brings medicine and food every day to the starving?”
“...True enough.”
Goodwill without strings.
In the face of such unprecedented kindness and this massive opportunity from an unexpected place, people muttered nonsense about hidden catches.
They knew it wasn’t true, but it was just too unbelievable.
“He said he’ll be back tomorrow. Let’s stop talking and get some early rest! We’ll be moving again starting tomorrow!”
At Eleanor’s words, people lay down one by one.
Under the tent made from the cloth he’d given them.
Sipping the mysterious drink he’d provided.
Fiddling with the strange metal container he’d given them.
They dreamed of tomorrow’s hope.
They couldn’t sleep. There was no need to dream in slumber when reality would grant their wishes awake tomorrow.
“...”
Eleanor was the same.
Until now, she’d been nothing special.
But somehow... among this group mostly of women and children, she’d taken a leadership role, with a new colony within reach.
By finding a new ally she hadn’t before, meeting a new person she hadn’t encountered.
Eleanor gazed at the beautifully engraved images and mysterious script on the metal container. The shapes—square-ish or roundish—looked less like letters and more like mathematical symbols.
And Eleanor couldn’t read a single one.
A journey to the unknown.
Maybe that man was a king from a realm overflowing with gold and silver. A wealthy, powerful lord commanding thousands of servants and millions of subjects.
Or... as some said, an angel.
She didn’t really think so, but his mercy and dedication toward the Englishmen had been angelic. It was understandable.
Whichever it was.
Eleanor spent the sleepless night wide-eyed, imagining the settlement they’d build starting tomorrow.
With that mysterious eastern kingdom beside it. As she pictured it, she drifted off gently.
And when she woke the next day.
Guided by him to that place.
Thud!
“Move the injured into that farmhouse beyond the fence.”
“Farm... house?”
“The hut over there.”
“And the rest of us...?”
“Chop down the forest over there and use it. I’ll help.”
“N-no, that’s okay! We’re only thirty people! One more won’t make much difference...”
Vreeeeeeeng!
Crack-rumble-boom!
“...It does make a difference...”
Eleanor’s imagination had missed the mark entirely.
...On second thought, maybe he really was an angel.
It was already early September. Shine Muscat harvest season was winding down.
In other words, right before picking.
I sprayed fertilizer for foliar feeding—quick-absorption stuff on the leaves—while adding mostly potassium phosphate to boost flavor and storage life.
To avoid bland, watery fruit, I reduced water just enough to keep the topsoil from drying out completely. About sixty percent of normal should suffice.
After working on that for a good while, enlightenment struck me.
‘What’s... the point of all this?’
I wasn’t going to eat every last grape from my 1,500-pyeong greenhouse alone. Why was I doing this... all by myself?
“...Ughhhh.”
‘Hear the Way in the morning, and you may die content that evening.’
Confucius said something like that, right?
Having gained enlightenment, I suddenly wanted to die.
‘...No. There might be some special perk.’
Like if the constellation [Lord of Olympus] bought my grapes, earning me [Coins] to awaken Hunter powers.
Or my grapes being some insane elixir, letting me cultivate pure inner energy overflowing from my dantian after meditation...
As if.
No matter that I’d bought the wrong game pack and ended up 400 years in the past with my ancestors, that was too much. If so, my status screen would’ve popped up ages ago.
So.
Everything I was doing now—preparing for grape harvest—meant nothing.
It was just inertia, lingering attachment, and stubbornness from years of farm life.
“...This farm I built with my own hands.”
Realizing the workplace I’d poured my early twenties into had become meaningless in an instant was tough to swallow.
I sat there slumped for a bit, then stood at the sound of approaching footsteps in the distance.
Whew... focus, focus.
Thirty against one. Minimize conflicts or slips. Maintain superiority while keeping an amicable alliance.
For that goal, my chosen behavior was as follows.
“...I told you not to come this far in.”
“S-sorry! With the injured, I came to ask...”
“Did you move them to the farmhouse as I said? I’ll be right there.”
“Th-thank you.”
“Enough.”
“...”
“From now on... don’t enter this area until I call for you.”
“...Yes.”
Mysticism.
In 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, why didn’t the captives on the Nautilus try using Nemo as a hostage or escaping over years? They acted like obedient passengers.
Why?
Because they didn’t know him well.
They didn’t know what he could do to them, or how badly outmatched they were.
The protagonist never uncovers Captain Nemo’s true identity until the end.
My strategy was the same.
Mysticism. Mysticism.
“Is this... a vineyard?”
I could tell from Eleanor’s tense expression as she stood before me.
Seeing the long rows of vines laden with huge clusters of grapes, her eyes widened. My figure on the wheeled chair, sprinkling fertilizer, must’ve looked utterly alien.
I tried to keep a detached, calm face as I slowly resumed spraying the leaves.
“Yes. As you see.”
“I visited vineyards in Sussex and Kent plenty, but... I’ve never seen grapes this big.”
“It’s just a hobby, so they grew like this.”
That’s right. I couldn’t be some debt-ridden grape farmer. I had to seem mystical and powerful. I sprinkled fertilizer on the leaves with a bored, leisurely expression, like it was nothing.
Like a cafeteria worker casually slopping rice, so easy, fun, no big deal.
And indifferently:
“Want one?”
“Ah, thank you.”
I plucked a few berries, washed them, and handed them over. Eleanor peered at them curiously, whispering.
“They look like jewels...”
Of course. A product from a Japanese research institute packing 20th-century ag tech.
And the moment she popped one in her mouth, her eyes went wide.
Tasty, right? They were over 20 Brix earlier.
Department store quality—had to be good.
“This is delicious... Huh?”
“Something wrong?”
“...”
A serious glint entered Eleanor’s eyes.
“Th-there... there are no seeds?”
Oh, right. Forgot. It’s 400 years ago.
“...Yes. Is it that surprising for grapes to be seedless?”
...Don’t panic. Act natural.
“Of course! Then how do these grapes propagate?”
“Cuttings, naturally.”
“So without human hands, they can’t reproduce?”
“Correct.”
“How could something like this exist in nature...?”
“It couldn’t.”
“...”
“I removed the seeds.”
With gibberellin to promote growth.
“My... God...”
“It’s not from my homeland... but an island nation in the East.”
Japan’s National Agriculture and Food Research Organization—thanks for developing it.
Japan’s MAFF—thanks for forgetting to patent it. No royalties needed.
“Wh-where exactly is your homeland?”
“...”
I just gazed wistfully at the sky and said.
“...In a place you’ll never reach.”
I’m an honest man.
So I only spoke the truth.
Yep, he really is an angel.