“Even thinking back, you do a wonderful thing, Master Magician—teaching the children to read and write without any compensation.”
“And that’s not all! That bright child over there, Ben—they say you even teach him magic!”
“That’s truly remarkable!”
As they walked to Patrick’s secluded house, the chief and merchant showered him with praise, each trying to outdo the other.
Patrick had little to say—not only was free literacy instruction unusual, but he’d also guided the children to compile a field guide of the island’s creatures. It was a form of creative work.
“It’s nothing special. I just wanted to spend time with the children.”
“If all magicians were as humble as you, we merchants wouldn’t find them so daunting. Haha.”
“Really? Haha.”
Though Patrick responded politely, his mind wandered.
‘Please let them be rare! If these “blue mushrooms” are as prized as matsutake…’
‘If I sell them all, could I buy a goat? Then I could make cheese from goat’s milk, even butter!’
He clearly recalled an island-cooking show where someone made goat-cheese salad and butter.
‘Even if they’re not matsutake prices, fine—just enough to buy a few ducks would do. Duck barbecue, duck roast, duck stew… Ah, I want duck stew with a shot of soju.’
Lost in daydreams, he barely noticed they’d reached his home.
“Quack! Quack!”
“Get away! Why is this chicken sounding like a duck?”
Suppressing the urge to chase it off properly, he ushered the merchant onto the front-yard porch.
“This spot’s better than inside. My house is a bit… messy.”
“Understood. We’ll wait here.”
“They’re dried behind the house—I’ll fetch them right away.”
“Teacher, should I come too?”
“No need. Take the children to the garden over there and let them play.”
“We’ll really just play?”
“If you get bored, pull a few weeds.”
‘I knew it!’ Ben snorted, gathering the kids to dash off toward a nearby hill—probably to pick wild berries.
Better—Patrick preferred they not watch him haggle over money.
‘Are they properly dried? I heard they turn blue when they’re fully dried…’
He’d tossed them into a basket in the shade and forgotten them. Now, shivering a little, he headed to the back yard.
‘Is it cold because of the shade?’
He took another step—and—
“Ugh!”
A wave of nausea hit him.
“Ughh!”
He retched repeatedly, sinking to the ground, trembling.
“Teacher?”
“Master Magician!”
Alarmed, the chief and merchant rushed over.
“I’m f-fine. Suddenly felt a chill… Ugh!”
As Patrick leaned toward the mushrooms, he noticed their strange blue glow.
‘They really did turn blue? Amazing! Does that mean they’re the real deal?’
At that moment, his body lurched.
“What… what’s happening to me…?”
Thunk!
His consciousness began to fade.
“…Damn it! How many times… is this…?!”
He muttered curses aloud as he blacked out. Just before losing consciousness, he heard the merchant shout:
“Blast! They are truly the recluse’s mushrooms! Magician! Magician!”
“Oh dear, Teacher!”
Blink, blink.
“This… ceiling looks familiar.”
“Oh, stop it—you’re awake! Chief, he’s awake!”
This was a line he’d wanted to deliver someday. Though Ben gave him a pitying look, Patrick didn’t care. One should do what one wants in life.
“I’m sorry, Master Magician! I was careless! I never imagined they’d be recluse’s mushrooms!”
“Recluse’s mushrooms?”
The merchant, having rushed in, repeated the term.
‘Recluse’s mushrooms? What on earth…?’
Even in OLD Patrick’s memories, he knew nothing about them—indeed, he was utterly clueless.
Patrick blinked at the merchant, who continued:
“To ordinary folk they’re a rare delicacy, but to those with mana affinity, they’re like pure poison.”
“Poison?”
“They cause excruciating pain and eventually strip your mana affinity entirely.”
“What? So… Fire!”
Startled, Patrick cast a spell at the nearby firewood without looking.
Flare!
The spark ignited.
“…It worked?”
“That’s because Lord Oren gave you a potion right after you collapsed.”
So—his emergency treatment had been effective.
“Then you called them recluse’s mushrooms truly?”
“Yes. Once properly dried and shredded along the grain, they form blue threads. That’s how they’re used. The more you inhale, the stronger the effect. When I heard you’d dried them whole, I thought there’d be no issue… I apologize.”
Oren’s explanation was accurate: unless the mushrooms were broken into fine threads, their potency remained locked inside. Because Patrick had treated them casually, he’d wasted a precious potion—an expensive lesson for Oren, too.
“Can these still be sold? Or are they contraband…?”
Patrick’s concern lay elsewhere—he’d collapsed before, yet awakened just fine. Having fainted almost weekly since arriving, he’d grown somewhat accustomed to it.
‘Not sure if that’s healthy…’
Thanks to the potion, he felt nearly back to perfect health. He simply wanted an answer:
“Impossible to sell at market.”
“Damn!”
“But the authorities will buy them in bulk.”
“Oh?”
“At a high price.”
“Whoa! Really?”
Oren held up a few fingers—Patrick’s grin stretched ear to ear, even as he vaulted from the bed.
“We counted about half a basket’s worth. If you transfer trading rights to us, after fees we can pay you this much.”
Patrick nodded.
‘I can’t leave the island anyway—paying fees is unavoidable.’
He considered asking the chief for a better deal, but decided against it.
“Can I use some of the sale proceeds for discounted purchases?”
“Of course. It’s my fault—allow me to offer a discount.”
Oren proved an unexpectedly honorable merchant.
‘He won’t become a tycoon—but also won’t cheat you. An experienced merchant’s loyalty-building tactics—he’s leagues ahead of me.’
“Anything you need?”
“One moment—could you see if you can buy these items?”
Now, it was time for—shopping. Who said nothing’s more fun than spending money?
‘Heh, heh. True enough.’
Listing his shopping needs felt thrilling.
Long live mushrooms.
A few days later, a small boat arrived at Dunbrook Island. It came for oysters and brought the villagers’ ordered goods.
“Oh, you’ve worked hard!”
Normally, Patrick wouldn’t go near the beach to avoid temptation—he never wanted to leave the island. But today was different—his purchases were on that boat.
“Brother Luca, step carefully! Is that my crate? Can you hear me?”
“Yes, Teacher!”
Because the island had no proper harbor, goods had to be reloaded onto a small skiff. Strong young villagers volunteered; Patrick simply folded his arms, offering advice.
“Come on, move it!”
“Teacher, sit this one out!”
“Right—don’t collapse again.”
“If you collapse, we have double the work.”
Luckily, no one scolded Patrick for shirking. Instead, he inspected the unload.
“Let’s see… Yes, quantities match!”
He checked that the oysters met standards and that the right amounts arrived. It was usually the chief’s duty—Patrick’s help gave the chief a rare breather.
“You are truly a benefactor to our island, Teacher.”
“Haha. When they heard a criminal was coming, no one was pleased.”
“But none expected someone like you.”
The chief spoke with the island’s eldest woman, “Grandma,” as they watched the cargo.
Although it was still spring, he felt this year might be different.
“But what did that magician buy to need so many items?”
“I don’t know—I didn’t ask.”
Grandma clicked her tongue at Patrick—who rubbed his face remembering he’d brought two large crates.
“Whatever it is, he seems thrilled. Must be something valuable.”
“He came all the way from the capital—surely he faced many inconveniences here. Haha.”
Indeed, the island lacked many things—too many to list.
‘The most urgent was this!’
Patrick beamed at the largest of his boxes—delighted.
“Teacher, why are you so happy about what you bought?”
“Kid, curious?”
“Yes.”
“What I bought… is… Science!”