The Life of an Australian Slave (3)
Chirp chirp chirp, pwee-bee-bee.
"Yaaawn~"
Waking up to birdsong every morning, here in Australia—there really was nothing like it.
Skreeeeeech.
"Oh, come on."
Fine, that thing was bird-adjacent, so it counted as birdsong. Barely.
It reminded me of when I first arrived here. Back then, my mornings were greeted by the sound of arrows thudding into the walls, of all things. Moses had been in a full-blown panic, screaming that Haneul was going to die, please save her.
And while all that was going on, she was also firing her revolver like there was no tomorrow, which meant I'd had to talk her down and gotten an earful for my trouble.
Knock knock knock.
"Miss? You're awake, aren't you?"
"Yeah."
Did she have a listening device planted in here or something? The second I opened my eyes, she'd appear like a ghost.
"Your tea, Miss."
"Thanks."
Not that tea served with a side of snacks was ever unwelcome, of course.
I was halfway through my tea when the lively morning clamor began to drift up from below.
"Cotton!"
"Wheat!"
"Barley!"
From the top floor of city hall, you could see the whole scene of workers being handed out their assignments every morning. I watched with a contented smile.
"What are you smiling at like that?"
"People-watching."
"They've changed so much, haven't they?"
The walking corpses they'd been when this city first took them in were nowhere to be found. Immigrants were still streaming in nonstop, so the docks were always full of those hollow-eyed faces—but it never took long for them to light up with hope like that.
"By the way, how do you pick out people like that? It's as if you can actually read their hearts."
"No? They just show up on their own."
"I'm sorry?"
For the last time, I do not have mind-reading powers. Such a suspicious woman.
"What do they call us back in Europe?"
"The Devil's lackeys? The Devil's nation? The Devil's city?"
"That's right."
At best, they called us witches; at worst, they believed we were demons who spirited people away to be shoved into the fires of hell.
"Why do you ask?"
"Because the people who make it here are the ones willing to dip a toe into the Devil's lair itself."
"Ah. A matter of desperation, then?"
Well, yes, there was that too. The desperation of wanting something—anything—in your mouth even once a day. The desperation of watching a child too weak from hunger to even cry. That kind of desperation certainly played its part.
"No. Desperation is what pushes them out the door. What brings them here is courage."
"Courage, Miss?"
"Everyone in this city is someone who took that first step, determined to push through the fires of hell itself."
"Ah…"
That was why, even as the ugly rumors about us spread across Europe, we simply let them be. Honestly, if we scattered a little Holy Water around, people's perceptions would flip overnight, and the immigrants would come flooding in. But would people who'd spent their whole lives steeped in destitution and defeatism actually thrive once they arrived?
I didn't think so at all.
So that's why you ordered everyone not to mistreat the ones arriving at the docks.
"Yes. They're people who marched forward with death staring them in the face."
To tame a land brimming with wilderness like this, you needed exactly that kind of courage. The east was livable enough, but step even a little beyond it and things turned truly harsh.
"Somehow that makes it sound rather heroic, Miss."
"It is! People think they're coming here as slaves, but in my eyes they're the very pioneers this land needs."
"Oh…"
Europe would soon be left with nothing but the defeated, sliding into a pit from which there was no climbing out. And the people here were so wild about Daehan that within a generation, they'd forget they'd ever come from Europe at all. Honestly, people lose their minds over our bulgogi wrapped in bread.
Thump thump thump.
"Haneul! You in there?"
"Ugh…"
That brainless voice…
BANG.
"There you are! Good morning!"
"Oh… er, morning?"
The tall, dark-haired native youth who'd barged in first thing in the morning went by Solid Stone. The natives had a habit of naming themselves like that…
"Why not just call me Rocky?"
"Right. Sure. Morning, Rocky."
When I'd asked, "So your name means Solid Stone—does that make you Rocky?" he'd loved it and insisted I call him that ever since. A genuinely good-natured, hearty guy.
"So! Today you WILL take me as your mate!"
"Haah…"
Wonderfully cheerful, great personality—the only problem was that today marked roughly his seven hundred and thirtieth proposal…
"I'll bring more tea."
Shake shake.
"…"
I grabbed Moses, who was already making her escape, and shook my head to signal my refusal.
Slip.
"…"
"…"
Oh, you heartless woman. Look at her, wriggling free and strolling off. What was she planning to cling to me with this time?
"As I've told you, I don't marry anyone weaker than me."
"Fine! Today I've prepared something different!"
Footraces, wrestling, shooting matches—we'd done just about everything, and he hadn't won a single one, yet he kept showing up demanding another contest.
"Give it a rest already…"
"What about arm wrestling?"
"That's the one you're guaranteed to win, so no."
Well, well—had the man's conscience finally kicked in? There was nothing else left, after all.
"You'll wrestle me for real but not arm wrestle? Why not!"
"Because! You little—! Do you have no shame at all?!"
"What? 'Little'? I know that one! That's a curse word!"
Ugh. For the love of—just go away, will you…
And there went Moses, who'd promised to bring tea, bolting yet again. Fat lot of good that did.
Slurp. Slurp.
Slurp.
Today's contest: eating. And since speed was the name of the game, we'd settled on cold noodles—naengmyeon, icy buckwheat noodles in a chilled broth.
We sat side by side in silence, happily demolishing our bowls.
"Nnngh. My head hurts!"
"That's what happens when you shovel down ice-cold food. So are you giving up?"
"Ha! I am not a man who surrenders easily."
"Sure, sure…"
He knew he could never out-eat me, and yet the poor man kept trying…
Sluuurp. Mmph!
What on earth was the point of forcing noodles down with your eyes bulging out of your skull?
"Another bowl?"
"S-sure!"
Hm. It wouldn't be long before noodles started coming out of his nose, I suspected. He was already on his third bowl of naengmyeon. Three bowls might not sound like much, but noodles swell up something fierce in your stomach…
After all—noodles that go in as hair can come out as udon, as we say.
Slurp.
Slurp. Glug glug. Ahh, that hits the spot.
"…"
The thing was, he was only eating the noodles while I was drinking the broth too. That's how you're supposed to eat naengmyeon—broth and all. Honestly, does this man know nothing about enjoying food?
Not that I could very well alternate between staring at his face and his belly like I was watching some freak show. What would people think of me?
"What are you looking at?"
"Urkup…"
Oh no. He almost said it just now. Almost.
"Where does all of that even GO?"
He said it while staring down at his own stomach—and uh oh, that belly looked ready to burst. It was bulging out visibly past his abdominal muscles.
"Food goes in, so I figure it'll come out eventually."
"What? Cough cough."
The mysteries of my own body are unknown even to me, buddy. Bottomless going in, nothing coming out—fascinating, isn't it?
"Hah…"
"What do you say? Another bowl?"
"Y-yes!"
"You know, maybe you should stop. I'd rather not watch a man make himself sick."
"WHAHAHA! I, Rocky, greatest warrior of my tribe, do not lose!"
Hey? Pal? You've lost to me dozens of times already? You're so much worse at fighting that you spent a full two weeks with your eyes swollen shut into slits?
Had his brain been built out of rock to go with the name?
Slurp.
Slurp.
And there he went, merrily putting away yet another bowl of cold noodles. My body being what it was, fine—but this guy was no joke either.
"Urrp."
"Hm? Hey. That's not a good idea."
His face was turning green. Was he coming down with something?
"Hey! Your face looks wrong! Just throw it up!"
"Nnngh! I cannot."
"You'll die!"
"Then you'll have to take me as your—"
Uh? Uh-oh? Hey? Did you really have to say that while gripping my shoulder and trembling like a leaf?
"No. Not even if you die."
BLEEEEEEURGH.
Blorp blorp splat.
Thankfully I was sitting down, so it mostly hit my chest—but something unspeakable was slithering its way down inside my clothes.
Oh. My. Should I kill him? Don't tell me he deliberately held it in and fired it at me out of spite?
"Ah… my apologies…"
"…"
Hahaha. Just look at him—so much had come up that a noodle was actually dangling from his nose. Disgusting didn't even begin to cover it.
"Get out."
"Haneul, are you cursing at me again?"
"You got a problem with that?"
"Ah…"
Having tossed the rotten lout out, I scrubbed myself down in the bath. And I do mean scrubbed—raw, until my skin practically came off.
"Miss? That's quite enough. You're clean."
"I don't FEEL clean…"
"Ah…"
"Just get me a change of clothes."
"Yes, Miss."
Slurp.
"I'm sorry."
Did this man think my place was his own home? Bathing here, borrowing clothes—unbelievable.
"…"
"Honestly… I won't mess around anymore. Promise."
"You swear it?"
Truth be told, he'd already crossed the line a while ago, so at this point his antics felt half in jest. The problem was that the moment you let your guard down thinking oh, it's just a joke—that's exactly when you got soaked.
"Whew… fine. I'll let it slide this once."
"Also—I came today with an actual request."
"Which is?"
He must have had business, and dropped by to challenge me while he was at it, right? The man was busy too—as a chieftain's son, he had to travel all over the place.
"We need weapons."
"Why? Are the axes and armor not working out?"
"The armor tires us too quickly. It is hard to fight the ones who strike and flee."
Hm. So they were getting pushed back in open combat and forced into guerrilla tactics, were they?
We'd won over the largest tribe in the region and were using them to quietly tidy up the rest of Australia. Most tribes fell head over heels for the wondrous technology and food and joined willingly, but every now and then you got a hardliner faction. We were forced to use force against them, and apparently they were proving difficult to corner.
"Firearms are dangerous, you know. What if they get stolen? That'd put your people at risk too."
"We accept the risk."
Haah. When you thought about it, these people were impressive in their own way. The ones who used to rain arrows on my windows every morning when I first arrived were from this very tribe. We'd fought a ferocious little war, made peace over food, and now we were on the same side.
"Can't I win them over with food?"
"They call us traitors. They refuse to even meet us."
"Haah…"
All I'd need was to get one bite into their mouths, and apparently even that was too much to ask…
Fine. I'd hand over the guns. I'd just have to think of it as insurance against the Westerners or the Southeast Asians who'd come sailing over someday.
Today we'd come out to talk with a tribe to the west. They farmed and lived off the land in their own way, but their life was a hard one.
"Are you the chief of the village where the waves crash?"
So that was what they called our port city. The natives had their own ways of living and their own culture, and they named their settlements—and each other—in exactly this fashion.
"That's right. And you're the chief of the western hills?"
"I am."
"Why won't you join us? We could teach you how to eat your fill and live in safety."
"We live well already. Do not cross onto our land."
Um. Excuse me? You're the one who got smacked down, came crawling in pain, and begged for your life, weren't you? The audacity here is staggering.
"At least tell me your reason. Why won't you join us?"
"Different skin. Different face. Cannot trust."
"Then what about Solid Stone's tribe?"
By which I meant Rocky's tribe.
"They are a different tribe."
"Hm. Then how about selling us some land?"
"Sell the land? It is not ours. How could we sell it?"
What kind of bullcrap logic was that? Then why were you blocking us?
"I'm sorry? If it's not even your land, then why are you stopping us?"
"We live there."
Somehow the conversation had gotten itself thoroughly tangled… I was going to need a simpler way to explain this.
"Okay! Listen carefully. We are not trying to take the land you live on. We just want to farm on the empty land."
There were barely any natives on this continent to speak of, which meant there was an enormous amount of genuinely empty land.
"The empty land?"
"Look around—all this terrain that grows nothing but grass? If we farm it, we can share the harvest with you too."
"There is no water here?"
There were crops that needed little water, and there was groundwater besides, but—hah, of course…
"We'll draw the water up from underground."
"Gah? What did you say?"
Well, sure, it would be astonishing, wouldn't it?
The natives who'd crowded around were all abuzz with murmurs.
"No more suffering to find water—join us, and you can truly live at ease!"
"Do not lie. How can water be made from the ground?"
Ugh. In my heart of hearts, I wanted to just punch a hole in the earth with my powers and be done with it. Keep drilling long enough, and the water would start gushing out on its own.
"Fine. If we draw water out of this wasteland, you'll be on our side?"
"On your side?"
"Friends. I mean friends!"
"Friends. Hmm. Good! If it can be done, we can be friends!"
He had no idea just how much groundwater was sitting under this land. Poor man.
Making friends with natives was so wonderfully easy!