Roasted Potatoes, a New House, and a Panther with Yellow Socks
Time to build a house.
The potatoes had been sitting in the fire for quite a while now. Surely they were ready to come out?
"Here we go — roasted potatoes."
"Roasted potatoes."
"Hot. Careful."
"Hot? Careful."
I was a little worried, honestly. There was no medicine out here if anyone got burned.
Still, at least they understood "careful," so that was something.
With a gentle tug of telekinesis, the potatoes that had been roasting away in the charcoal came floating out.
Now came the eating lesson.
"Okay, so, um..."
Snatch.
One of my eager friends grabbed a potato clean out of the air.
"Hot!"
"Careful!"
Apparently it really was too hot, because all three of them flailed about, teaching themselves the lesson on the spot.
You get what 'hot' means now, right?
Luckily, their hands were so calloused from rough living that they hadn't been badly hurt.
Whew. What a perilous life. Raising primitive friends.
"Alright, alright, everyone. Look here. See what I gave you? Like this — slice it open with the spoon, and there's yellow inside."
I split open a charred-black potato with the fork-spoon first, showing them how.
Inside, steaming golden-yellow flesh gave off a rich, nutty aroma, wisps of vapor curling into the air.
Just looking at it made my mouth water.
"You only eat the yellow part. Got it?"
I scooped out a small piece and popped it in my mouth to demonstrate. Fork-spoons really are handy.
The Three Musketeers caught on in no time.
"Eat the yellow!"
"Oh!"
"Uoh!"
"Wo!"
Once I actually tasted it, the potato was incredible. Weren't potatoes supposed to be nutty and plain?
This one was sweet, like it had been dusted with sugar.
My friends, faces smeared with soot, gave up on their spoons once the potatoes cooled and just started grabbing them with their bare hands.
Their filthy hands demolished the food with astonishing efficiency. It was a heartwarming sight and all, but they were going to catch something at this rate.
"Good? Is it good?"
"Good?"
"Nom nom... mmm~ good. Nom nom... blegh~ not good."
Honestly, I got chills. I knew my explanation sounded like total nonsense, but wasn't it somehow perfectly clear?
"Oh! Good!"
I speak gibberish and they understand it perfectly. The comprehension of these cavemen never ceases to amaze me.
They'd probably get scolded if they came home empty-handed from a hunt.
"Want to take some potatoes back with you?"
"Potatoes?"
"Yeah, the ones you're eating now."
"Yes. Good."
"But you have to eat them quickly."
"Yes. Good."
Potatoes turn green and become poisonous when they sprout. That's why I stressed it — they had to eat them fast.
Still, it nagged at me. Would they really understand? What if they came shambling back in a few days, groaning in pain?
Since there were no baskets around, I carved a few wooden tubs and packed the potatoes into them for the trip.
The tubs had to be heavy with all those potatoes inside, but they hoisted them up with ease — apparently worth taking after all.
"Bye-bye! Safe travels, and come visit again~"
"Haneul. Goodbye."
"Haneul. Goodbye."
"Haneul. Goodbye."
Watching them leave, I felt a pang of reluctance.
But the Three Musketeers had families of their own, didn't they? I forced a smile and waved them off.
They smiled back and waved, walking away with vigorous, confident strides.
I kept waving until they were out of sight — just in case one of them might look back.
Tsk. Not a single one turned around.
They'll come back, won't they?
The Three Musketeers of the Ugra Tribe
That day, in the open fields, they had met a spirit.
A new spirit — the master of the fields. At first they mistook it for a person, but when it flew through the sky and lifted a massive tree without so much as straining, they changed their minds. Spirits were fiercely territorial, and one had to be very, very careful around them.
"Garungda, this is serious."
"A spirit seems to have settled in the fields."
The wisest course was always to avoid spirits — but they had no choice. Both their village and their hunting grounds lay across those fields.
They would have to pass through, offering tribute if they must.
"Let's go."
"Right."
"Let us beg for mercy."
Tension hung over the Three Musketeers' faces, and the hands gripping their stone spears trembled.
Right nearby lurked that black spirit of the deep woods — the one that snatched people away if they didn't bring it water.
But when they steeled themselves and crept closer to see, this spirit was nothing like the terrifying thing in the forest.
It looked like a person, was beautiful, smiled warmly, and had a kind heart. Relief brought tears to the Three Musketeers' eyes.
"Here — what I made is yours, as a gift. I might have even better things back home, so you'll come visit again, won't you?"
They couldn't understand a word, but they received the bowls, cups, and spoons it had given them earlier, along with the potatoes packed in wooden tubs.
Laughing and playing alongside the spirit today must have won its favor.
The spirit always greeted them with a smile. Being near it felt like basking in gentle warmth — as though good things would come to anyone who lingered at its side.
And so the Three Musketeers were able to leave the fields with far lighter steps than they'd come.
On the road home to the village —
"Garungda, what do you think?"
"A kind spirit. This is the first time. A spirit that doesn't take water from us."
"What if we serve it? Make it ours?"
"That is the chieftain's decision to make."
"Then let's hurry back."
It was nothing like that cursed black spirit in the woods. Treat it kindly, and it treats you kindly. And if they worshipped a field spirit strong enough to lift entire trees, surely the black spirit would never dare come near the village again.
The Three Musketeers' footsteps quickened with every stride toward home.
When they returned to the village, the people were baffled.
They'd gone out hunting, yet here they were — empty-handed, or carrying wooden tubs where animals ought to be.
People bombarded them with questions, but the trio hurried straight to the chieftain.
"Chieftain, we have returned."
"Didn't you leave to hunt? And what is all that?"
"Today we met the spirit of the fields."
"What! A spirit has settled in the fields!"
Garungda spoke calmly, but the chieftain, predictably, nearly jumped out of his skin. That was generally how anyone regarded spirits.
"It is all right. It was a kind spirit."
"Then Udilda and Seugida, who went with you — were they offered as sacrifices..."
Assuming his companions had been given as tribute was, frankly, a reasonable assumption.
"Here we are."
"We live."
"What! Then — does it mean to wipe out our village instead?"
Because everyone was alive, the chieftain was somehow even more alarmed.
"Please, calm yourself and listen. What we brought back today is a gift from the spirit."
"Hm?"
"We told you. It is a kind spirit."
"Do such things exist?"
"Yes. We saw it ourselves."
"I see my time has come at last."
Wearing an expression of pure disbelief, the chieftain collapsed onto the ground.
"These are payment for the conversation we shared and the laughter we gave the spirit today."
"What is this, then?"
Excited, Garungda explained everything that had happened and described the potatoes, then proposed they all eat together. He had a duty to honor, after all — Haneul's word: quickly.
The hungry tribesmen came running, giddy with excitement.
Life in the age of stone was a hard one. You foraged and you ate, or you foraged and you starved — there was nothing in between.
But Haneul's instruction to roast them before eating absolutely had to be kept.
"Everyone, stop! Do not eat them raw — disaster will strike. The spirit's punishment may fall upon us all!"
As the starving tribe started shoving potatoes straight into their mouths, Garungda scrambled to cut through the commotion.
The way everyone hastily put their potatoes back down showed his words had struck home.
"They must be roasted in fire — quick, build a fire!"
A fresh commotion broke out as everyone scrambled to gather firewood, but the three tubs of potatoes the trio had brought held a staggering amount, and that night, every last member of the tribe went to bed full.
Such was the grace the spirit had bestowed upon the Ugra tribe.
Once the meal was cleared away, the people gathered at the heart of the village.
They had decided to offer words of thanks to the spirit.
Thank you, Haneul-nim.
May the heartfelt sincerity of these smiling faces reach the spirit of the fields.
And so the Ugra tribe prayed — for a long, long while.
Quite a while had passed since my friends left.
"Maybe I should have quietly followed them home?"
Not because I was bored. Or lonely, obviously.
I was just worried about them. Yeah. That's it. That's totally it.
"I'm gonna cryyy~"
They say you notice the space where a person used to be. Already I was missing the warmth of having people around.
"They'll come visit again, right? I gave them plenty of gifts. Or should I go check on them tomorrow?"
Talking to myself did nothing, but somehow it made me feel a little better.
I really hoped I'd make lots of friends soon.
"Oh, but shouldn't I be sleeping by now? Don't I kind of need a house for that?"
The moment I thought about it, a cold shiver ran down my spine.
I'd just imagined falling asleep and waking up as a wild animal's chew toy, limbs scattered everywhere.
Right. Time to build a house.
"Hmm, to build a house... there's no such thing as concrete here, is there?"
I narrowed my eyes and scanned my surroundings, just in case.
Nothing. I'd half hoped something might just poof into existence out of thin air as a gift from God.
"Yeah. Nothing here."
"Hey, God! A house between us is the least you could give me."
A little disappointing. Tsk.
It worried me, but the images in my head were crystal clear. I'd seen people build homes from mud and wood before — but could I actually copy that? It had looked incredibly hard.
"Oh, wait. I never have to strain myself, do I? I have telekinesis!"
Now that I thought about it, wasn't I worrying over nothing?
This was a being who could haul around trees the size of houses. Building one little hut would be a breeze.
Just in case the fire spread, I made sure it was thoroughly put out, then flew off toward the forest.
And then...
"Oh. My. God..."
This was not okay.
It was a bright moonlit night, and the forest was — well, there was simply nothing to see. Pitch black. Absolutely nothing.
Since becoming immortal, I'd lost my fear of most things. Ghosts and such didn't scare me anymore.
"Wow... I can't do anything if I can't see anything, can I?"
Maybe I'd pull out some of the thinner trees near the forest's edge? Should I just take whatever I could see and go? As I was debating it, two cute little yellow lights flickered on deep within the trees.
"Hm? What's that? Are there fireflies out here?"
Blink. Blink. Twinkling fireflies.
"Ooh, they're getting bigger? Are they coming closer?"
I'd have to catch them somehow. And at that size, wouldn't the area around them be lit up too?
"Huh? That's weird, though. Shouldn't they light up their surroundings? Why can't I see anything around those lights?"
Something felt off, so I squinted and peered hard at them —
"KRRRAAAGH—"
"GYAAAAH!"
I was staring blankly when the lights grew larger and larger, and then something burst out of the forest along with a shadow, right at me!
I'm not scared, okay? I was just startled. Yes — even I am allowed to let out a little scream now and then.
"What the heck are you supposed to be!"
THUD.
Whatever it was, it clearly wasn't a ghost. It slammed straight into the telekinetic barrier surrounding me, kicked up a cloud of dust, and tumbled head over heels.
"Hey! You little—! Any normal person would have died of a heart attack!"
It rolled clear of the forest, and I finally got a good look at it. A jaguar? No, a leopard?
I'd expected something the size of a house, but it stood only about waist-high — surprisingly compact.
And true to its feline nature, its body was sleek and powerfully built, covered head to tail in jet-black fur.
Curiously, only its paws were covered in yellow fur — it looked exactly like it was wearing little yellow socks.
"Pfft, hahaha. What are you, and why are only your feet yellow? Where'd you get them dyed? No wait — your mom missed a spot when she was doing the dye job, didn't she?"
It posed no real threat, so I took my time examining it — and honestly? It was adorable. Almost painfully cute.
Had it thought I was mocking it?
The creature's mood was turning distinctly ugly.
"Grrr. Grrr."
"Okay, okay, stop that. You're weaker than me anyway, you know?"
I raised a finger and waggled it side to side — accidentally performing the universal gesture of trash talk.
Uh-oh. Now the thing looked even more pissed.
"KRRAAAGH!"
Angry this time for real, it charged and pounced at me again.
As if that would ever work.
"Good grief. Are you an idiot?"
"Krgh?"
Suddenly unable to move its body, the creature panicked, eyes wide.
I'd pinned it in place with telekinesis.
"Bit inconvenient, isn't it? Not being able to move whenever you want?"
Feeling like this counted as animal cruelty, I released it. Startled, the creature began backing away, slow and furtive.
I just wanted to be friends. Was that so off-putting?
Oh no... it's going to run, isn't it?
"Hey, do you like potatoes?"
All I had on hand was a potato, so I figured I'd lure it with that.
"Grrrr—"
It let out one last low growl, then bounded off into the forest.
Aww. Darn it.
I could have forced it to stay, I suppose — but then we'd never be friends, would we?