Chapter 133
Chapter 133
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 133
Chapter Title: 14. To the World of Agriculture! (2)
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It's often said that autumn is the season for reading.
Not too hot, not too cold.
Perhaps because it's perfect for leisurely reading while basking in the cool breeze?
And autumn is also called the season of appetite.
With so many festivals that even commoners can join happening in autumn, maybe that's why?
Or is it because after toiling hard through the hot summer, you're rewarded by eating plenty in the fall?
I can tell you.
It's all for one single reason.
The reason autumn is the season for reading.
The reason autumn is the season for appetite.
It's because!
"Autumn is the harvest season!"
"That's why!"
As soon as I spoke, Ellis, who had been gleefully ravaging the potato field, jumped up and shouted.
She was mimicking Iron Bat, but this time it was cute, so it's a pass!
"That's right. Everything about autumn is tied to this harvest."
"Harvest, the best!"
Ellis groaned as she stretched her back once, then her hands headed back to the potato field.
Even as a child, Ellis was already a seasoned farmer!
With a tap of the hoe, the potatoes crawled out of the ground on their own and into her hands.
"To do anything properly, you first need a rumbling belly. In spring, you plant; in summer, you battle the weeds. That's why there's no time to read books or eat!"
"Weeds suck..."
Ellis puffed out her cheeks, channeling her grudge against the weeds into her hoe.
The potatoes popped up even faster.
Weeds are tough.
To a novice farmer, they all look like regular grass, but those weeds stick their heads up everywhere.
Day after day after day.
You chop their necks and yank their roots, but the next day, they pop up somewhere else.
The war with them never ends.
They appear anywhere, exist everywhere.
The only time the battle ends is barren winter.
But that's not the end of the war.
It's merely a truce for next year's battles!
"Ah, that's not it."
"Dad, your hands are slow. Great story, but keep working!"
Before I knew it, I'd been scolded by my daughter, who had dug up way more potatoes than me.
Back to hoeing.
"Everything's only possible when your belly's full."
"Yeah, full belly feels good."
"You need food to read, too. Books are food for the soul, but they don't fill your stomach."
"Books are boring. Farming's way better!"
Oh my, what a fine thing for a farmer's child to say.
"Plus, you need food around for appetite to kick in. When you're starving, it's not appetite—it's just desperation for any grub."
"So Dad's saying autumn's the harvest season!"
"You got it!"
My daughter looked up.
A hint of contempt in her eyes.
"Then get to work."
Her finger pointed at her pile of potatoes, then mine.
More than double the difference.
"Sorry."
"You said that already."
"I'll do my best!"
My daughter let out a farmer's sigh, wise beyond her years.
"You're the one who said we need to harvest at least half today to stay on track."
"Yes, sir!"
My hoe sped up.
"We gotta finish potatoes this week, then corn and wheat."
"Th-that's right!"
"I worked hard while humoring your talk, but you just chatted instead of working?"
"I'll give it my all!"
This wasn't getting scolded by my daughter.
It was one farmer chewing out another farmer.
Saying all that while still digging potatoes—what a prodigy. The future scares me.
"Let's hurry!"
"Yep!"
Thwack! Thwack!
The hoe striking the earth rang out wordlessly.
Yes, now's harvest season.
But winter, the season of cold, is coming soon.
Winter's brutal. Hate going out.
To avoid it, stock up on firewood and food ahead.
Autumn's harvest time, but so packed with prep it's practically preparation season.
"Who knew I'd be prepping for winter after leaving the army."
"Thought no winter prep post-discharge."
"If you don't prep in winter, it's rough. Last time, we ran low on firewood."
"It wasn't that low..."
"No! It was low! We had to roast army potatoes and sweet potatoes a few times—that counts as low! So this time, stock extra for those too!"
My daughter fiercely piling on my workload for more food.
Where'd she learn this mischief?
-Winter firewood? Woods are full of it—what's a little chopping?
-Right on, sis!
Only one culprit.
No one's tailing me, but Iron Bat's such dead weight in parenting, I'm tempted to seal her in the shed.
"Fine. Gotta finish these potatoes today then."
"Yeah!"
Two pros at harvest mode filled the wooden crates in no time.
"Done for today!"
"Egguh~"
Clutching her back and gazing skyward with a groan—my daughter's form was mighty impressive.
"Promise is a promise?"
"Yeah, tonight... chicken!"
"Sob... Glad I'm alive..."
Ellis loves chicken so much, I wonder if Korean blood runs in her veins.
I'd love to order a chicken a day, but for her growing body, too soon.
"Alright, stash these in the shed first, then hit the village for chicken?"
"Yeah! Sis finished quick too—she'll love it!"
Tch, thought I'd get rare alone time with my cute daughter.
But this sweet girl wants to drag that damn Iron Bat along.
"Guess so."
"Yeah! Sis sucks at farming, so she guards the house every day! She's bored alone!"
"Ellis is such a good girl."
"Yeah, Ellis is good!"
I absentmindedly petted her muddy head with my filthy hands.
Normal girl would've raged at the dirt, but Ellis—affinity max with soil as a top farmer—just grinned.
"Alright, let's go!"
"Yeah!"
I checked her hop into the cart's back, loaded with potatoes, and pulled toward home.
Third year settled in this quiet village. Blissful routine.
#2 Their Circumstances: A Certain Daughter's Situation
"Oh! Ellis! Out to market with Dad again?"
"Yes! Sis came too!"
The skewer lady at the market greeted us smiling.
"Oh, Ar's here too?"
"Yeah, Ar came!"
Sis rarely leaves the house.
Dad's kind, but strict with Sis—hates her going out.
Says her outings alone threaten world peace. Keeps her locked in tight.
"Good, good. Seeing all Melern's girls together warms my heart. Here, a gift."
"Thank you!"
"Thank you!"
She hands us two skewers; Sis snatches them with speedy thanks.
"You kids..."
Dad hates taking freebies from strangers.
But skewers are meat.
Tasty.
I know Dad feeds us meat more than most, but it's never enough.
"How much?"
"Aw, Melern. Just awkward cuts I couldn't sell. Service for my best customer."
"Still..."
"You're too uptight, Melern."
While Dad haggles wallet out, the skewers vanish into our bellies.
Might get scolded later, but meat temptation's too strong!
"It's service. We got goals today—hurry!"
Sis tugs Dad's pants.
Dad frowns but sighs, promises bulk buy next time, and heads for chicken.
"Ellis. Don't follow Sis blindly."
"Sorry..."
Dad pets my head wordlessly at my apology.
"Hehe~"
Dad's hands are huge and rough, but feel so good.
"We're here, chicken shop!"
"Oh, Ar? Long time!"
Savoring Dad's touch, we arrive at the chicken lady's.
"Oh, Melern. Back again? You buy chicken like crazy. Must be a pro."
"Not pro—just love chicken, ma'am Lesel."
"Dad's chicken is the strongest!"
"Yeah, chicken invincible!"
"No idea what, but sounds delish."
"Yeah yeah!"
I nod fiercely at the chicken lady.
Chicken's strongest. Invincible.
No food beats it.
Crispy beyond grilling's dreams, texture out of this world.
Tender meat hiding under batter hits harder than harvest joy after hard farm work!
Plus Dad's special sauce traps me in chicken's devilish allure.
Dad's chicken is perfect.
Perfect on its own.
But his sauce transforms that perfection anew.
Perfect chicken, sauce flips flavors 180°—still perfect.
Multiplies perfection by sauce count!
Dad's chicken never bores, tasty daily!
Chicken forever!
"Really that good, huh."
"Ellis, drool."
Sis whispers at chicken lady's words.
"Slurp."
Drool pooled at my mouth, leaking out unnoticed.
Lucky Dad's picking chickens, didn't see.
"Thanks, Sis."
"No biggie."
Dad's kind but stern when scolding.
I know his reasons, but no scolding's best.
Angry Dad's scary!
"These, these, this—oh, this too."
"Four total."
"Chickens are for—"
"One per person!"
Sis and I shout like it's obvious at the lady.
Dad taught us this great truth.
One chicken per person, always!
Fried, roasted, boiled—each gets one.
Prevents fights.
Everyone wants drumsticks, not necks.
One chicken means some get legs, others neck or breast.
Breast is good.
No bones, easy eat.
But lags behind legs or wings.
Fights ensue.
Chicken's that vital!
One per solves all.
Peaceful eating for all.
"So four!"
"Even if neighbor gramps steals, still one each!"
Neighbor Gramps visits often.
Steals Dad's precious food each time.
I get it's too tasty, and he's always kind, but can't help glaring.
Can't forgive ruining one-per-chicken, even for Gramps!
"Ah, eating with old man Steon?"
"Gramps smells Dad's chicken like a ghost."
"Impressive—if he seeks it, I gotta try someday."
Cluck!
The lady slaughters a chicken mid-laugh, merciless one-strike to the neck.
Pro-level: instant kill, defeathering—I can't match.
If I'm farm pro dreamer, she's chicken pro... no, beyond!
"Melern's kids are something. Most pity dying chickens..."
"They know chicken taste too well."
"Hohoho. Great customers from a seller's view."
Dad seemed embarrassed, but he's the one who made us this way.
All Dad's fault!
Dad's an angel-devil who revealed chicken's magic to us!
"Here, four chickens, fully prepped."
"Here you go."
Dad pays; lady sees us off.
These chickens are ours now.
Dinner: chicken!
"Tonight's chicken!"
"Wooo!"
"Chicken, Lord Chicken!"
Sis and I cheer at Dad's words.
Reward for hard work: chicken dinner!
I'm... so happy!
Truly!