New Usage Method (3)

Yanne and Sezanne had been cooped up in the inn the entire time, so they happily joined us. The horses and the dog were equally thrilled at the chance to travel far from the city after so long.

Following the main highway toward the capital made the region’s thriving trade impossible to miss. Though the Tyris River separated us from Divein, a sturdy bridge crossed its waters, and the gentle plains made both farming and travel easy.

The farm we reached sat one block off the main road. Its slightly elevated position suggested it would stay safe even during floods.

“That’s the main house, this is the annex, and over there is the storage barn for the harvest. That building is the stable for the cows and horses. The wheat and bean fields out front are included in the sale.”

The buildings alone covered more than a hundred and fifty pyeong. With the attached fields, the entire property looked to be around four thousand pyeong. The only real drawback was sharing the well, but otherwise the place was nearly perfect.

“What’s the price?”

“Two hundred forty gold.”

Since one gold was roughly four hundred thousand won, the total came to about a hundred million. I looked at the guild employee.

“To be honest, since I’m not from around here I can’t tell whether this is a fair price or not.”

“Farms in this area usually go for around three hundred gold depending on the land. This one is fifty gold cheaper because the previous owner lost everything to gambling debts and died before he could settle them.”

The guild employee added that the guild would guarantee the sale, so installment payments were possible.

“Also, the wheat and beans currently growing in the fields are not included. They were already seized for the gambling debt, so other parties will come to harvest them.”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk.”

I couldn’t help clicking my tongue. Losing everything to gambling was a miserable way to go.

While I looked around, I noticed the family still living on the property—two teenage boys and a middle-aged woman. Their faces looked especially dark after hearing the guild employee’s explanation.

“What will happen to that family? If I buy the farm, do they receive any portion of the sale?”

“When the farm is sold they’ll be evicted without a single coin. They’ll most likely end up as beggars in the city.”

I thought for a moment.

“They don’t seem to have any other workers. How about hiring them on as they are?”

In a normal game this would have triggered a quest—the classic moral fork where your decision about a debt-ridden family determined whether you accumulated good or evil karma.

“What is your decision? Because of the gambling debt the price is genuinely low.”

Sezanne was staring in fascination at an owl living under the warehouse eaves, murmuring that it must be a mouser. Yanne, ever the mountain girl, clapped her hands in delight at the sight of the geese and declared they would be comfortable here.

“If that family will work for me, I’ll take the farm.”

Through the guild employee’s mediation, we drew up a contract with Michelle and her two sons. We would guarantee their food and lodging and pay them three gold per year. From a modern perspective it was exploitation, but since it was the local standard I didn’t raise any objections.

Michelle explained that the beans and wheat were planted in alternating years exactly as the priests of Lady Freya had taught them. They had once kept cows, goats, and pigs, but… I didn’t need to hear the rest. The animals had either been sold or seized.

The older boy, sixteen-year-old Tilt, and the fourteen-year-old Jack were the ones who worked the fields. Both were covered in freckles. The wheat had been broadcast sown and grew thick and wild, while the beans, planted individually, stood in neat rows. The priests of the God of Abundance had apparently taught them the basics of crop rotation and composting.

“Tilt, Jack—by tomorrow move everything from the main house into the annex. Do you have anything to eat until then? We’ll be moving in two days from now.”

“We have a little wheat and some oats set aside for trade.”

“Then don’t hoard it. Eat well, and make sure the main house is completely cleared out by tomorrow.”

I settled the fee at the mercenary guild with the highest-grade recovery potions I carried, then spent the rest of the day in Booktoria buying furniture and beds. Everything went straight into my inventory. After finishing all my errands in the city center, I purchased cows, pigs, goats, and chickens before returning to the farm. Michelle and her sons were busy cleaning the house.

“Michelle, what do you usually eat for lunch?”

“What would we have to call lunch? When it’s too cold or too hot we just boil some oat porridge.”

If this were Korea, moving day would mean black-bean noodles without question. But I had no black bean paste, and making noodles from scratch would be too much trouble. I was resigning myself to yet another meal of bread when my eyes landed on bright yellow globes behind the house.

“Were those pumpkins seized along with the wheat and beans?”

“Oh, no. The pumpkins weren’t planted in the main fields. They grew wild behind the house, so they weren’t taken.”

“Then we can eat them.”

I chose one that had ripened to a deep golden color—almost overripe—and stabbed it with a knife.

It was so hard the blade barely penetrated, as though I were stabbing armor. I forced the knife deeper; a sharp crack rang out and a fissure raced across the pumpkin’s surface. It had matured perfectly in the sun after harvest. I twisted the blade in the crack and pried it open. A fresh, sweet pumpkin aroma flooded out.

“What do people usually make with pumpkins this ripe?”

“Since they’re so sweet, we usually boil them or mix them into other dishes.”

From Michelle’s answer it seemed no one here made pumpkin porridge. I had wanted to serve a sweet pumpkin porridge, but without any grain besides oats it didn’t feel right. I thought back to other dishes that used well-ripened pumpkin. Pumpkin rice cakes, pumpkin pancakes, or a vegetable stir-fry might work, but none felt substantial enough to be the main course.

Then one hearty pumpkin dish came to mind.

I pulled a table out into the front yard of the main house and handed Yanne a cutting board, knife, and the basic vegetables.

“Yanne, while I slice this tough pumpkin, you finely mince the carrot, green onion, and onion.”

“How small should the pieces be, Master?”

“About half the size of a fingernail. Mince the sausage finely too.”

At ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the instruction to cut everything very small, Yanne focused intently and began chopping. I cut the pumpkin into several sections and scooped out the seeds with a spoon. Michelle carefully collected the seeds I removed; apparently they dried and ate pumpkin seeds here as well.

I carved away the pumpkin’s hard rind and sliced the flesh as thinly as I could. Then I took out the iron brazier nobles used while traveling. Michelle and the boys had heard their new employer was a mage, but they still stared in astonishment as a large table and brazier appeared from thin air.

Fortunately the two sons had gathered a decent pile of firewood. I handed Sezanne some kindling.

“Sezanne, fire.”

She touched a finger to the wood and flames roared up instantly. Until now we had needed flint or carried live embers; having a mage around made life so much simpler.

I melted butter in the largest iron pot, added Yanne’s finely chopped vegetables and sausage, and sautéed them until fragrant. Once the vegetables had absorbed the butter’s richness I added the pumpkin slices and continued stir-frying. Then I poured in water until everything was submerged.

At this stage it looked no different from ordinary pumpkin porridge. But by seasoning with salt, pepper, ginger, and garlic instead of sugar, it would become Kürbissuppe—the pumpkin stew Northern Europeans, especially Germans, commonly enjoyed. Without cocoa milk or a blender to purée the vegetables the texture would be slightly different, yet the fundamental taste should be the same.

“Just keep stirring with the ladle and simmer until the ingredients turn soft. If we had cow’s or goat’s milk, half a cup would improve it. Do the animals we bought today give milk?”

Michelle went to the barn and returned with fresh goat milk. I had her press down on the vegetable chunks with the ladle while stirring. When the vegetables had cooked down until they were falling apart, I called everyone to the table.

“All right, everyone—let’s eat.”

I filled six bowls generously with the golden stew and set a baguette in the center so anyone could take what they wanted.

“Um… is it really all right for us to sit and eat together?” Tilt asked, clearly wary. I understood their hesitation.

“Of course. We eat as a group. Oh, and since you’ve been sweating, go wash your hands and faces first.”

The boys’ hair was matted with dirt, but I let it pass for today. Starting tomorrow I would make sure they washed every evening after work.

Once they returned I was about to let them begin when a thought struck me. If I could infuse potions with buffs, perhaps I could do the same with food.

“Everyone, put your hands together and close your eyes. Let’s offer a prayer before the meal.”

Yanne and Sezanne looked puzzled—after all, we had never done this before—but when I clasped my hands and closed my eyes they quickly followed.

I roughly recited the prayer while secretly bestowing active buffs and healing buffs on all six portions.

“…We will eat with gratitude. Om Mani Padme Hum!”

“Om Mani Padme Hum!!”

When Yanne and Sezanne repeated the chant, Michelle and her sons joined in as well.

“Now, let’s eat. Don’t eat the bread and stew separately—dip the bread in the stew. Or tear it into pieces and add it directly.”

I dipped my baguette deep into the stew and took a bite. Everyone followed my example.

“Eh? Is this really pumpkin? There’s such a deep, rich flavor…”

Sezanne had tasted many pumpkin dishes during her mercenary days. She had seen the combination of vegetables, pumpkin, goat milk, and spices before, yet the unprecedented depth and richness that filled her mouth left her stunned. Even during her noble days, when she had sampled pumpkin creations by skilled banquet chefs, she had never encountered a stew with this kind of profound taste.

“Was the pumpkin special somehow?”

“No, it was just ordinary seeds from an ordinary pumpkin.”

Michelle thought Sezanne was overreacting to plain pumpkin stew and took a spoonful herself. The moment the stew touched her tongue her eyes widened in shock. She had never realized the pumpkin she once ate merely to fill her stomach could taste this good.

“H-how can it be this delicious?”

Her two sons dipped their bread and devoured the stew as though every second wasted on breathing was a crime. Watching them, Yanne began frantically working her spoon as well.

“It must be because I used magic fire. Or maybe it became delicious because we prayed to God Sadalla with gratitude before eating.”

‘No way… does the buff improve taste in addition to raising stats?’

Everyone was exclaiming over the stew, so I lifted my own soaked piece of baguette. The coarse whole-wheat bread had softened in the golden liquid, releasing wave after wave of rich pumpkin flavor. The thoroughly cooked pumpkin and vegetable broth merged with the nutty taste of the bread to create an incredible depth. The small chunks of unblended vegetables gave the stew a satisfying texture, while the finely minced sausage added the savory richness of protein and fat.

Yet ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠none of that fully explained the profound, almost magical savoriness that permeated every spoonful. Now I understood why the others were reacting so strongly. This was a depth of flavor that even magical seasonings could never replicate.

‘So this deep taste is the flavor ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of the buff!’

After tasting it, I decided a buff that improved flavor was far more valuable than one that simply raised stats.

“Master, after ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hearing your pre-meal prayer, perhaps God Sadalla granted us a blessing? That must be why it tastes so amazing.”

Yanne had already emptied her bowl and was ladling seconds from the pot.

“The stew in the pot is good, but it doesn’t have that deep flavor. God Sadalla must have blessed it so we could enjoy it.”

“Is that true, Yanne?”

Sezanne, who still had stew left in her own bowl, ran over with her spoon and tried the pot. Her eyes sparkled.

“It really is! The bowls don’t have the deep taste at all!”

“God Sadalla’s blessing dwells within the food. Om Mani Padme Hum! I believe!”

The old Sezanne would have scoffed at the idea of a god bothering to bless everyday meals. But after tasting the unmistakable difference, she could only accept that a divine blessing had truly descended.

“I’ve never seen anyone receive such direct love from a god before.”

Sezanne could not help but view me with new eyes. She wondered whether this, too, was part of the god’s arrangement.

“…May we have more?”

“Eat whatever is left in the pot.”

The two boys also tried the stew from the pot and marveled at the difference in taste. When everyone had finished, Yanne offered an after-meal prayer without being prompted.

“We thank you for the blessing that made the food so delicious. We were happy to eat a meal that received the god’s blessing.”

Everyone clasped their hands and repeated after her.

“…Om Mani Padme Hum!!”

The casual joke I had made out of boredom back in the swamp seemed to be growing like a snowball rolling downhill, gathering momentum with every passing day.