Chapter 21
Translator: uly
Chapter: 21
Chapter Title: The Black-Haired Barbarian of Hubei Province - 3
"I need to draw a line on the wood, so hold the string tight at the end."
Perfect.
This is perfect.
Starting the next day, my job changed from carrying heavy materials to assisting the master carpenter.
Even though the type of work changed, it was still manual labor. But how nice it was to use less strength. And I even got paid more.
"Yes. I'll hold it tight!"
I brought the string I was given to the end of the construction timber. As I held it in place, the master carpenter began snapping a chalk line on the wood.
"A barbarian daring to work with the master carpenter…"
"He doesn't even take apprentices easily, how is he working with a barbarian like that?"
It was only natural for people to be dissatisfied that a barbarian like me was assisting the master carpenter. But what could I do?
You think you have a stronger connection than my master carpenter line? Social life is all about connections, you fools.
Of course, if I acted recklessly just because I had a connection, I could get kicked out of the master carpenter's party and become a baggage carrier again. I'd rather not go back to hauling materials.
I needed to work diligently enough that the carpenters would feel regret, devastation, and obsession if I disappeared.
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"Who sharpened all the tools here?"
One of the carpenters spoke, looking at the tools that had been sharpened like new.
"Huh? Mine are sharpened too. My chisel… I was thinking about getting a new one because it wasn't biting well."
"Did the foreman call a grinder to sharpen them all?"
"That bastard? He's obsessed with skimming money. There's no way he'd call an expensive grinder to do something like this."
"I did it."
I stepped forward and spoke up.
"You, the barbarian?"
"Yes. Yesterday, I heard you all saying your tools weren't working well, so I woke up a bit early this morning and sharpened them."
"You did all of this by yourself?"
One of the carpenters asked with a surprised face.
Unlike swords, tools don't have large blade areas, so it didn't take much time. Of course, having to wake up at dawn was a bit bothersome.
"Even if I did it, I couldn't have sharpened them this well."
"W-well, you did a good job."
"For a barbarian, you have some decent work sense."
The carpenters who had looked down on me examined their tools and gave me awkward praise.
Huhuhu. This isn't the end.
"I brought the water here in advance!"
"I cleaned up the sawdust and wood scraps over there!!"
As I handled all the visible miscellaneous tasks, the carpenters' perception of me gradually began to change.
How great was it to earn someone's favor with work that wasn't even that hard?
Just like working during the day, telling stories at night wasn't very difficult either.
They were all divorce series.
A good husband and a wicked wife. I just had to change the wicked wife's repertoire. The child he thought was his was actually the product of an affair, she was giving money to another man, the wife kept hindering her husband's future…
"That rotten woman, she's worse than yesterday's."
"Does today's woman seem even crazier?"
"Why does a worse woman appear every single day?"
I just gave initial variations on the wicked wife and slightly changed the success story.
After divorce: Imperial Son-in-Law. After divorce: Genius Artisan. After divorce: Passing the Civil Service Exam. Once he succeeds splendidly and the runaway wife regrets it, a night's story is complete.
"That barbarian tells stories amazingly well."
"If we tried to listen to that in the marketplace, we'd have spent a lot of money."
"The stories those street storytellers tell are always the same. But this barbarian's are new every time."
The uncles were very satisfied. I was also very satisfied since I could work comfortably and just flap my lips. In fact, word of my stories spread, and this happened.
"I'll buy you a drink of rice wine after work!!"
"Are you crazy? Why would you sell that spot for just some rice wine?"
"You know I'm obsessed with street storytellers' tales, and you're going to do this?"
Since the number of people who could enter the lodging was limited, people even started trying to buy my sleeping spot in the room.
It was clearly an assigned lodging, but from some point, except for the master carpenter, the people in the room started changing every night. I was worried they'd get tired of similar stories, but thanks to this, even when I told similar stories, people didn't seem to mind much.
"Hey, Joseon storyteller. Sit here and eat with us. I'll give you more meat side dishes. Tell us a story."
"Storyteller. Can you find me a spot in your room? I brought some sweets."
As rumors spread like this, even the carpenters who had looked down on me until the end raised the white flag and approached.
"Barbarian. You're a street storyteller, right? Tell us that divorce or whatever story too."
"Yeah. We commute, so we can't listen at night, but we hear that story is really fun."
"Of course I'll tell you. Let me finish eating quickly, and I'll tell you the story of 'After Divorce: Genius Carpenter.'"
"Thanks, kid."
After telling a divorce series once during lunch, I was suddenly promoted from 'barbarian' to the carpenters' 'kid.'
After a few days like that,
I had become, not a discriminated-against black-haired barbarian, but a well-treated Joseon street storyteller.
"Wow. Our kid. How are you so strong?"
"Did the master carpenter pick you because of your strength? Good at stories, good at work… you're a top-grade kid."
I volunteered for the job of driving a crossbeam into a pillar with a large wooden mallet, and thanks to my mastery of the falling technique, I could easily hammer it in.
Thanks to me, the work that had to be finished today was done by the morning.
Then what should we do? Slack off!
Even if the world is different, slacking off on manual labor sites seems to be a universal rule. Thanks to that, after lunch, we could lie on the grass and continue our break. The carpenters were in such high spirits that they praised me.
"I guess I just built up stamina wandering around here and there since I was young."
"Really? That's interesting. Are all people from Goryeo that sturdy?"
It's not Goryeo, it's Made in Joseon, you fool.
But there was no need to pick a fight over such a thing when I'd worked hard to build good relations, so I only grumbled inwardly.
"He's not the only one like that. Look at the foreman's wife."
"Huh? That foreman, his wife is Joseon?"
What, so you hit me calling me a black-haired barbarian because of that?
"No. The foreman's wife had an affair with a black-haired barbarian. That woman was so good at cheating, she took all the money she could and ran off with the barbarian."
"……."
My goodness.
"There's a famous saying, you know. A woman who goes to a black-haired man never returns."
That's a bit different from the saying I know.
"Exactly. He should have been suspicious when his wife became close with a black-haired man in the first place. What woman wouldn't fall for something like that?"
"Look at our kid too. Seeing him pitch the tent in the morning, it looks like he could hold up a crossbeam on top of it."
The carpenters looked at me with subtly envious eyes.
Looking at me like that is embarrassing.
I always thought I was quite sturdy. I guess Korean dating sims subtly included that kind of setting.
"That foreman bastard must have heard our kid's divorce stories too. He's making a fuss saying he'll remarry a young woman to show off."
"He'd better."
"He must think he's the protagonist of the story. Hehe."
We spent a leisurely afternoon bashing the foreman with his rotten personality.
----
Work is like an arrow shot.
It's tough when it starts, but once it becomes routine, you suddenly arrive at the destination. Construction site work was the same. At first, I needed effort to adapt among people, but I adapted, and once I adapted, it was over before I knew it.
"Master Carpenter. Thanks to you, I worked comfortably."
The fact that I could work easily without much hardship during this time was entirely thanks to the master carpenter.
"Is that my doing? It's your doing for telling such interesting stories. Thanks to you, I enjoyed my time working here."
The master carpenter accepted my farewell with a pleased smile.
"Kid! Just come with us to another site and work together."
"A kid like ours could learn carpentry well. How about coming with us?"
"Master Carpenter. Isn't a kid like ours worth teaching?"
"That's true. What do you say? Work under me."
The master carpenter stroked his beard, pretending to think for a moment, then made me an offer.
It's a very attractive offer.
If I follow the master carpenter, I won't go hungry.
If it were me a few days ago, I would have accepted without a second thought.
"It's a truly grateful offer, but I have something else I want to try."
"There aren't many jobs a barbarian can do separately in the Central Plains. May I know what kind of work you want to do?"
"I want to become a street storyteller."
That was the conclusion I reached after agonizing day and night for the past few days.
I can't return to Joseon, nor can I return to the Murong Family. I have to live in the Central Plains until I die.
To live, I need to earn money.
But how many jobs are there for a discriminated-against barbarian? I barely scraped by, but now I need to escape that situation.
What was the job I did before possessing this body?
A web novel writer.
But there are big problems with making money by selling books here.
First, I don't have the money to make books.
There's no way I, who barely scraped by, would have money for paper, brushes, ink, and bookbinding.
Second, there's no guarantee anyone will buy a barbarian's book.
Of course, I'm not unconfident about the novels I write. But considering the discrimination I've received over the past year, I don't think anyone would buy a book I wrote at a bookstore.
Third, this is a world without copyright law.
Even if I write an interesting book, the money won't fully come back to me. It will just fatten the bellies of people doing illegal copies somewhere.
To make money writing books in this world, prerequisites are needed. You need to be able to mass-produce the first print run in large quantities, and you need to be someone who can protect the rights to your work to make money.
For a black-haired barbarian of the Central Plains to make money through books, there were too many obstacles.
But a street storyteller was different.
A black-haired barbarian is a discriminated-against being, but a storyteller from a foreign land is a treated being.
Exotic stories from abroad. If I just talk interestingly with my acting added, someone will listen. My stimulating stories are clearly more interesting than the boring novels here.
If I use this well, I can definitely survive in this martial arts world.
"A street storyteller? I see. You certainly could do it. I've seen many storytellers, but I've never seen anyone tell stories as interestingly as you."
"Yes. Over the past few days, I tried it and gained confidence. I appreciate the offer, but I want to try becoming a street storyteller."
Will this be a decision I regret? Even as I speak, I'm worried. Certainly, if I do carpentry, I won't go hungry in this world. But in the end, I'd just be a barbarian carpenter. I'd live as a permanent outsider forever.
If that's the case, it's better to do work where I can use my identity as a barbarian.
"Hold out your hand for a moment."
"Huh? Alright."
As I held out my hand, the master carpenter handed me a small pouch.
"What's this?"
"You've told us precious stories every night, and it seemed too much for just a carpenter's assistant to be the reward. So the workers and I pooled together the fee for your stories. I put in generously too, so take it."
It was completely unexpected money. I just told stories to work a bit more comfortably, yet they gave me more money.
One year of being discriminated against.
It was the first pure goodwill I'd received in a year.
"……."
For a moment, my chest felt tight. My hands are trembling. It's a small pouch, but heavier than any other pouch. The long-absent goodwill made my chest swell, making it hard to breathe.
"Come to think of it, if you've decided to become a street storyteller, does that make me your first customer? This is an honor."
"The honor is mine."
"I know it's hard for a barbarian to live in the Central Plains. However, with your storytelling skills, you can definitely succeed here. I guarantee it."
"I'll try hard."
"Good. If you're going to be a street storyteller from now on, go to Chilgok County. There's a cloth shop owner named Wang there in the marketplace, a friend of mine. Go and mention my name. Then he'll give you a place to tell your stories."
"Thank you so much. I don't know how to repay this kindness."
"Kindness, what kindness? I just paid the price for the stories. Your stories were that interesting. Now I have to go do some paperwork. You go on ahead."
"Yes. I'll be going now."
Receiving farewells from the construction site uncles, I began to move my steps toward Chilgok County.
Chilgok County.
I hope it's a good place to start a street storyteller's life.