Teacher, The Bride Has Arrived
Geob-bo had gotten married.
Ever since Ji-geu’s father tied the knot, the poor guy had been wandering around sniffling and crying at the drop of a hat. Apparently that display had triggered the new bride’s sympathy and maternal instincts to the maximum.
The villagers found it absurd, yet they all offered their heartfelt blessings with genuine joy.
I’d worried the men who’d had their eyes on her might cause a scene, but they accepted it with surprising grace. They seemed to think it was better than watching a rival claim her. To them, Geob-bo had never been competition—he was more like the pathetic little brother of the group.
Still, it was unexpected that the very men who’d been so worked up over her would celebrate her marriage so warmly.
When I tilted my head in confusion, Ji-geu’s father gave me an answer that struck a chord in my chest. He whispered that the crops were growing far better than anyone had expected.
The abundant harvest had planted a seed of hope in the villagers’ hearts: that one day they might earn a bride through their own strength. That was why they could be so generous about Geob-bo’s marriage.
In other places, crops barely grew at all, and even if they did, the village chief and his cronies would snatch everything away, making it impossible to save anything. But here, things were different.
What you harvested through your own hard work belonged to you. The same went for game or wild fruit. There was no chief in this village who would covet and steal what belonged to others.
Effort was rewarded in equal measure. That belief had taken root—that if they worked hard enough, they could eventually gather the wealth needed to win a bride. It was actually possible here.
In fact, the chief hadn’t claimed either of the brides for himself; both had married other men. Seeing it with their own eyes had turned that hope into solid conviction. That’s what Ji-geu’s father told me.
My actions were becoming their hope.
If that was the case, then what I needed to do from now on was help the people of this village live without losing that hope. I would handle village affairs fairly and impartially, remove any foreseeable dangers in advance, and keep their futures safe.
If we lived that way, the day would surely come when every man in the village found a wife.
Me included.
Wait, this is actually kind of worrying.
In this world, thirty wasn’t exactly young. People here were considered adults at fifteen, so most married around twenty. By twenty-five, nearly everyone was wed, and people my age usually had at least one child already.
It was completely different from Earth.
Thinking about it is actually depressing.
On the surface I kept calm, but if I was being brutally honest, I felt a tiny pang of sadness that both brides had chosen other men.
Maybe I just wasn’t that appealing by this world’s standards.
In a village centered around farming, I wasn’t especially good at agriculture, nor did I possess outstanding physical ability or hunting skills. I couldn’t build houses or offer any special talents.
To the women here, I might look like someone who couldn’t even feed a family.
“....”
Actually, that assessment seemed pretty accurate. I was still learning even the most basic field work from others.
At this rate, I might never get married.
The thought of spending the rest of my life alone made me anxious.
When the next bride comes, maybe I should make more of an effort.
Sigh. I had no idea when she would arrive, but I really hoped this next one would choose me.
The cotton-fluff spirit stuck its bottom out at an angle, raised both arms high, and spun round and round in a dance.
It was a dance I had seen many times before. As time passed, the cotton-fluff spirit had been dancing more and more frequently. It somehow looked excited.
Each time, the little bird would waddle along and spin with it. Both of them seemed happy.
“What’s got you so thrilled?” Marguerite asked.
The cotton-fluff spirit let out a pipit sound and bounced up, stopping right in front of her face. Then it stuck its bottom out again and twirled in another dance.
“Hehe, you do that one so often. What does it mean?”
“Pipit!”
They couldn’t understand each other’s words, yet the spirit always answered whenever she asked a question. That was so charming that she kept talking to it.
“Pip pip pip!”
The little bird flapped its wings vigorously, as if to say me too!
When Marguerite lifted the bird onto her palm and brought it close to her face, the cotton-fluff spirit and the bird waddled and danced together in perfect sync. It was adorable.
After watching them for a moment, Marguerite leaned against the wagon’s railing and let her gaze drift into the empty air.
Whenever the cotton-fluff spirit came near, the other spirits kept a respectful distance but always stayed close by. Yet for the past day or two, they too had seemed strangely excited.
It’s odd.
While Marguerite quietly observed the spirits, the peddler driving the wagon called out.
“Once we pass this stretch, we’ll arrive soon.”
Marguerite stood up halfway without thinking. She peered into the distance, but the village still wasn’t visible. All she saw were grass and trees.
She must have looked like an eager child. Kenson, who was riding in the same wagon, saw her and chuckled. Marguerite smiled back, then suddenly found it strange.
“We’re traveling through such a remote, densely wooded area, yet no magic beasts have attacked us.”
Even if they avoided the deep forest, this was still a region where almost no one lived. It wouldn’t have been strange for magic beasts to swarm them, yet she had never once felt threatened.
She understood that the spirits protected them now, but what about when the peddlers traveled alone? Wasn’t that dangerous?
“Ah, that’s exactly why these peddlers are willing to visit the pioneer villages. We provided them with magic tools powered by spirit stones. They repel magic beasts. We supply fresh spirit stones at regular intervals.”
“Spirit stones? Aren’t those quite expensive these days?”
Spirit stones were used to power magic tools. While many people used such tools, the decreasing number of spirits had driven the price of spirit stones up sharply. Recently it had been discovered that spirit stones formed from the light emitted by spirits over long periods of time. Without spirits, no new stones could be created. And without spirit stones, magic tools were useless. Most of them ran on the power of those stones.
The more they were used, the weaker they became, so they constantly needed to be replaced. Because of that, she had heard that fewer and fewer people used magic tools in daily life.
“They have become expensive. Still, they’re not impossible to afford. There simply aren’t many peddlers willing to travel to pioneer villages, so we had no choice.”
Kenson let out heavy sighs, lamenting how development was slow despite the desperate lack of funds.
“Ah, now I can see the village.”
Kenson narrowed his eyes and looked into the distance. Marguerite jumped to her feet again and stared ahead. Far away, she could make out land that clearly showed signs of human cultivation. There were quite a lot of weeds, though.
Wait. Marguerite tilted her head. The plants she had mistaken for weeds all stood at the same height. They looked almost like a field. But that couldn’t be right. At this time of year, the crops should only be tiny sprouts.
While Marguerite blinked in confusion, Kenson muttered in awe.
“Whoa, that’s incredible. That field… how is it growing like that? Are those some kind of miracle seeds?”
Good heavens, it really was a field?
Marguerite craned her neck farther and stared hard. When she narrowed her eyes and looked carefully, she saw tiny glittering specks flying above the field, catching the sunlight.
Could those be…
Surely not… spirits?
There weren’t just one or two. Marguerite’s mouth fell open in shock as the spirits that had been traveling near the wagon began flying toward the field one by one.
They looked like soldiers returning home after a long campaign. Here and there she could hear the spirits’ voices—some excited, some almost tearful.
When she glanced at Kenson, his eyes had widened slightly too. Yet he pretended not to see anything. So he can see the spirits after all.
If he was keeping it a secret, there must be a reason. Marguerite acted as if she hadn’t noticed and turned her head away.
As she looked back toward the village, the cotton-fluff spirit flew right in front of her face and began dancing again—bottom stuck out, spinning round and round. Perhaps it was her imagination, but the spirit seemed to wear an expression of pride.
It looked as if it were showing off the village.
Maybe…
Marguerite reached out and gently embraced the spirit.
“Is the person you’ve been looking for there? Or is it something else?”
“Pipii!”
The cotton-fluff spirit’s face brightened as it answered. She didn’t know if they were truly communicating, but Marguerite felt she had received an answer.
The spirits that had stayed with her all this time continued to fly past the wagon toward the village, one after another. She didn’t know what it was—whether a person, a sacred place, or a holy object—but whatever it was, it existed somewhere in that village.
The anxiety she had felt just moments ago about what kind of village she would reach had completely transformed into anticipation.
Just who—or what—was waiting in that village?
As the wagon rattled closer, the spirits became clearer. Countless spirits were flying freely above the fields. Some lay on the oat sprouts, others bounced around stepping on them. A few were singing and dancing in midair.
Every time the spirits moved and sang, light scattered in every direction.
I see…
With this many spirits gathered in one place, it made perfect sense that the crops were thriving. Marguerite had never seen so many spirits concentrated in a single location. It felt like she had stepped into a land of fantasy.
If a kingdom of spirits existed, it would probably look like this.
When Marguerite’s wagon entered the fields, the spirits parted to make way. It was out of respect for the cotton-fluff spirit. The spirits that had withdrawn to a distance whispered among themselves as they watched her, as if curious.
Holong, holong. Their voices sounded like clear bells.
From deeper in the fields, near the village, children spotted the wagon and came running.
“It’s the peddler uncle!”
“Hello!”
“Dad said he’d buy something this time.”
“Teacher said he’s buying a lot too!”
The cotton-fluff spirit flew toward the children.
“Ah! It’s the spirit!”
“Where have you been? You disappeared for so long that Pudding was looking everywhere for you.”
“Pudding caught a grasshopper and carried it around inside itself. I think it wanted to show off.”
“Spirit! I’ve grown taller!”
“I got muscles! Wanna see?”
The children showed no fear toward the spirit. They laughed brightly and spoke to it as if they had always done so.
The cotton-fluff spirit seemed used to the children’s behavior as well. It flew among them making pipi sounds, pressing their muscles or tilting its head as if checking whether they had really grown taller.
Then, as if remembering something, it clapped its hands. It puffed out its chest proudly toward the children, spun around a few times in a dance, then flew back toward Marguerite.
The children’s eyes turned toward the wagon and suddenly froze. Their eyes grew wider and wider.
“She’s really pretty.”
“Is she a bride?”
“She’s so pretty.”
Since this was the last village, she hadn’t covered herself in soot. The children stared at Marguerite with round eyes and came running toward the wagon.
“Is she human?”
“Maybe she’s a spirit. I’ve never seen a person like this before.”
“Wow… really. Me neither.”
“Is she really a spirit?”
“But why is she so big?”
“If she’s a spirit, who is she going to marry?”
When the children bombarded her with questions all at once, Kenson reached out and lifted them into the wagon.
“She’s a person. Not a spirit.”
At Kenson’s words, the children’s mouths fell open.
“Then why is she so pretty?”
“Is she a city woman?”
“They say women in the city are incredibly pretty. Geob-bo uncle told us that before.”
“Are all city women this pretty?”
“I want to go to the city too.”
The children sat in a circle around Marguerite as if surrounding her. They stared up at her quietly for a moment. Their clothes were worn, but the children looked bright and healthy. That told her the peddler and Kenson had been telling the truth when they said this village was decent.
When Marguerite smiled gently, the children exchanged glances and nodded as if exchanging a signal.
“We heard Teacher muttering that he wants to get married.”
“They say Teacher is old.”
“Bride lady, our teacher knows a ton of stuff.”
“He’s a mage. An amazing mage. Wild boars go flying like whoosh, houses go flying like whoosh… um… and…”
“Trees go flying too.”
“And rocks go flying. Anyway, he’s super strong.”
Beside the children, the cotton-fluff spirit raised both arms into the air and clenched its fists tightly. It looked as if it were insisting that everything the children said was true, so Marguerite couldn’t help but laugh. Even Kenson laughed as if he couldn’t believe them.
“These kids are selling him like some kind of scam artists.”
“It’s true though.”
“Our teacher really is an amazing mage.”
“He knows a ridiculous number of letters too.”
“And numbers.”
“Teacher doesn’t even blink at a hundred, or even more than that. A hundred is a huge number, you know. You need this many rocks to make a hundred.”
While the children continued praising their teacher, the wagon passed through the fields and arrived at the village entrance. Unlike other places, this village seemed to have many houses already built. Several buildings were visible in the distance.
People had gathered at the entrance, apparently having seen the wagon coming. The children spotted them and shouted with wide smiles.
“Ah, it’s Teacher!”
The children leaned over the wagon railing and waved their hands.
“Teacher! The bride is here!”
“She’s super pretty!”
“You have to win her this time!”
“Geob-bo uncle said women belong to the man who wins the fight!”
“It’s Teacher’s turn!”
“You have to fight!”
“Kick them all away!”
“Victory!”
The cotton-fluff spirit also shouted pipi and shook its little fists in the air along with the children.
Marguerite grew curious about who exactly these children were calling “Teacher.” She leaned forward a little to look, and her eyes fell on one man.
His skin and facial features were completely different from the people of this country. The face of the Saintess Jeong So-hee flashed through Marguerite’s mind.
No way…
Marguerite’s eyes widened.