“Big Brother, the shovel broke again.”
Manseok came over with a tearful face, holding up a shattered shovel handle.
That made five this month alone.
Part of the problem was his monstrous strength, but the farming tools sold on the market were also terribly flimsy.
“Argh, you big brute... Hey! Didn’t I tell you to handle them more carefully?”
Chilbok berated him from the side.
Chilbok was not looking well himself. The dark circles beneath his eyes had nearly reached his chin.
Managing the brewery, calculating the workers’ wages, checking the food supplies... Even if he had ten bodies, it would not have been enough.
“Big Brother... I’m dying too. The ledgers are piled up like mountains. I wish we had just one more person who can read.”
I looked back and forth between the broken shovel and Chilbok’s hollow eyes.
The domain had expanded, and its systems had begun to operate, but we lacked the essential personnel needed to maintain those systems.
There was no shortage of simple day laborers. What I lacked were my own people—people I could teach my techniques to and entrust with specialized work.
“This won’t do. Let’s go shopping.”
“Shopping? Are we buying meat?”
Manseok’s eyes lit up.
“No. We’re buying people.”
The slave market stood on the outskirts of town.
In the shabby market, where the winter wind blew through without restraint, poorly clothed people sat huddled together and shivered.
Children sold by their families to reduce one more mouth to feed after a bad harvest. Farmers handed over in place of unpaid debts. Elderly slaves abandoned by their masters.
It was a place where the worst tragedies of life played out.
“Sir! We have plenty of sturdy ones! I’ll give you a bargain!”
Slave brokers swarmed around us.
I wore clean cotton clothes instead of silk, but with the giant Manseok following behind me, I clearly looked like someone from a household with money.
“I don’t need strong ones. I already have more than enough.”
I lightly tapped Manseok’s arm.
The brokers saw Manseok’s massive build and shrank back.
“Then what kind of merchandise are you looking for? A pretty woman? Or a child for errands?”
“Damaged merchandise.”
“Pardon?”
“The ones no one else will buy—the troublesome stock left unsold. Show me only those.”
The broker looked puzzled, but soon grinned from ear to ear.
This was a chance to dispose of the burdens who would not sell and merely ate food.
“Ah, you’ve come to the right place! Please head over to that corner. We have some very... unusual ones there.”
The broker led us to an old livestock shed in a secluded corner of the market.
Three people were crouched there separately.
The first was an old man.
His hair was completely white, and one of his legs was twisted grotesquely. He looked incapable of even standing without a cane.
“This old man used to be a blacksmith, but he got molten iron poured over him and injured his leg. He can’t swing a hammer anymore and only eats, so his master threw him out. You can have him for one nyang.”
The broker clicked his tongue.
I walked over to the old man.
As though he had given up on life, he stared into empty space with unfocused eyes.
“Old man.”
When I called to him, he turned his head.
I looked at his hands.
Rough, thick knuckles. Burn scars and calluses scattered everywhere.
His leg was ruined, but his hands were still alive.
They were the hands of a craftsman who had handled fire and iron for his entire life.
“Can you work with iron?”
“......If there is fire, I can make it.”
The old man’s voice was hoarse, yet a small spark flickered in his eyes.
That was enough.
I could have Manseok or another young man swing the hammer. What mattered was skill and experience.
The old man’s name was Yeonam.
“I’ll take him.”
“Excellent choice! Now, the next one is this woman.”
The broker pointed to a huge mass crouching nearby.
It was a woman.
But she was as big as Manseok.
Her shoulders were impossibly broad, and her arms were thicker than my thighs.
“This woman is strong, but she’s a complete idiot. The amount she eats is unbelievable. She eats enough for three cows all by herself. And when you make her work, she says she’s hungry, sits down, and refuses to move. Three nyang, please.”
Perhaps because she was hungry, the woman was chewing on straw that had fallen onto the dirt floor. Her eyes were half-lidded.
She was not lazy.
She was in hypoglycemic shock.
A body that huge needed plenty of fuel, but they had only fed her thin vegetable gruel. Her engine had simply shut down.
“What is your name?”
“......Beodeuri.”
A Chungcheong dialect, perhaps.
Her name sounded delicate and willow-like, completely unlike her build.
“Are you hungry?”
“I’m starving to death...”
“If I feed you plenty of rice, can you work?”
Beodeuri’s eyes snapped open.
Life returned to her previously dull gaze.
“If you give me rice, I can beat a cow to death.”
“Good. You’re hired.”
I looked at the last person.
He was a boy who looked about fifteen.
He was painfully thin, and bruises from beatings covered his entire body.
But his eyes were different.
They were not frightened or servile. They were the eyes of a wildcat, filled with fierce defiance.
“This boy... To be honest, I don’t really recommend him.”
The broker scratched his head.
“Why?”
“He was kicked out for talking back to his master. He knows a little writing, so he thinks he’s so high and mighty. He refuses to do what he’s told and keeps arguing about how things are not logical... Even if you buy him, he’ll only make your blood boil.”
The boy glared at me.
“What are you looking at? Are you buying me to use as a plaything?”
Even his way of speaking was crooked.
Chilbok stepped forward, dumbfounded.
“You insolent brat! Where do you get off glaring like that? Big Brother, this one won’t do. His temperament is absolutely filthy.”
But I smiled.
He could read, reason logically, and resist injustice?
He would be the worst possible slave, but he had the best qualities for an adviser.
What I needed was not a machine that blindly did as it was told, but a manager who could use his head.
“What is your name?”
“Siyeol.”
“Where did you learn to read?”
“My previous master was a teacher at a village school. I learned by looking over his shoulder.”
“Can you read ledgers?”
“I do not know double-entry bookkeeping, but I can tell what comes in and what goes out.”
I looked at the broker.
“I’ll buy all three. How much?”
“Ah, thank you! One nyang for the old man, three for the bear, and two for the rude brat... Six nyang altogether!”
They were dirt cheap.
In an age when one healthy slave cost fifty to sixty nyang, I had bought three people for six.
The broker was happy to have cleared out his trash, but I felt as though I had gained three treasure chests.
“Manseok, carry him.”
Manseok hoisted the limping old man onto his back.
Beodeuri staggered to her feet, while Siyeol continued glaring at me with wary eyes.
“Come on. We’re going to eat.”
On the way home, the state of my newly bought(?) family members was terrible.
Beodeuri collapsed several times while walking. Siyeol shivered in the cold.
The old man only made faint, wheezing breaths from atop Manseok’s back.
“Big Brother, will these people really be useful? I think their medical bills will cost more.”
Chilbok whispered anxiously.
“Just wait. Once they are washed and fed, they will be different.”
The moment we arrived at the domain, I had them bathe.
We used warm water from the brewery to wash away the grime that had built up on them.
Then we gave them clean clothes that I had prepared in advance.
“Gather in the dining hall!”
A meal had been laid out in the main house.
Today’s menu was beef-and-radish soup and grilled mackerel.
I had simmered beef brisket bought from the market last time to make a rich broth, then added chunks of sweet winter radish harvested from the fields.
There was also freshly cooked white rice.
“Eat.”
Mounded bowls of rice and bowls of soup were placed before the three of them.
“......”
None of them could lift a spoon.
They wondered whether this was a dream.
They had been bought from a slave market, yet they were being served such a lavish meal. Normally, they would be lucky to receive stale barley rice.
“What are you doing? There is no poison in it, so eat.”
When I placed spoons in their hands, Beodeuri reacted first.
Her nose twitched, and she instinctively plunged her spoon into the soup.
SLURRP!
The instant she swallowed a mouthful of broth, Beodeuri’s eyes rolled back.
“Uwaaaah!”
She threw away her spoon and lifted the soup bowl with both hands.
Then she began to drink.
No, it was closer to pouring it straight down her throat.
“Khah! It’s good! It’s really good!”
Beodeuri did not even mix the rice with the soup. She stuffed fistfuls of plain rice into her mouth.
Then she crunched through an entire mackerel, bones and all.
CRUNCH, CRUNCH.
It was like watching a wild bear eat.
“Eat slowly. You’ll choke. There is plenty of rice.”
I pointed to the enormous rice cauldron.
Tears rolled down Beodeuri’s face.
She cried as she chewed.
“Y-You’ll really give me more? Until my stomach bursts?”
“Yes. Even if your stomach bursts, I’ll sew it back together. So do not worry and eat.”
Meanwhile, Old Man Yeonam scooped up soup with trembling hands.
As the warm broth traveled down his throat, the stiff muscles in his face relaxed.
“It’s warm... So warm...”
He chewed every grain of rice as though it were precious.
He no longer felt like a disabled slave treated with contempt, but an elderly man being treated with respect.
Without saying a word, he shed tears as he emptied his rice bowl.
Lastly came Siyeol.
The boy puffed up his pride and pretended to be unaffected.
“Hmph. Don’t think you can buy me over with something like this. I...”
Grrrrumble.
Thunder roared from his stomach.
Siyeol’s face reddened, and he quietly picked up his spoon.
He took one bite.
“......!”
His eyes trembled.
It was delicious.
Too delicious.
It was the finest food he had eaten in his entire life.
Better than the meals his mother had made for him. Better than the feast at his teacher’s home.
In the end, he abandoned his pride and began devouring the meal.
He stuffed rice into his mouth until his cheeks looked ready to burst.
The three of them emptied an entire pot of rice.
Beodeuri alone ate five bowls. Her stomach swelled until it looked enormous.
Only then did color return to their faces, along with the light of life in their eyes.
I sat facing them and offered them scorched-rice tea.
“Do you feel full now?”
“......Burp. Yes, Sir.”
Beodeuri gave a shy burp that did not match her size at all.
“Then let’s talk about work.”
I looked around at the three of them.
“I did not buy you to make you slaves. I hired you as employees.”
“Em... ployees?”
Siyeol asked, unfamiliar with the word.
“Yes. An employee is someone who receives treatment in proportion to the work they do—food, clothes, and a home. In return, you will give me your talents.”
I turned to Old Man Yeonam.
“Sir Yeonam. Your leg may be inconvenient, but your hands are still fine, correct?”
“They are.”
“I will build a forge. I will assign strong men like Manseok to you, so you only need to teach them your skills. The farming tools I want—and later, special things I will have made. I will give you the designs, and you will turn them into iron.”
“If you give me the designs, I can make even ghosts for you.”
The soul of a craftsman returned to the old man’s eyes.
“And Beodeuri.”
“Yes!”
Beodeuri’s voice rang out loudly. The strength from a full meal was already flowing through her.
“You are strong, so you will take charge of the kitchen.”
“The kitchen?”
“There are now over one hundred workers. Cooking rice for them is a war. I need someone who can lift and move those heavy cauldrons whenever she wants. Chopping firewood, drawing water—your strength can do the work of ten women.”
“If you feed me plenty of rice, I can lift a cauldron and dance with it!”
Beodeuri flexed her bulging arm muscles.
Manseok let out an impressed, “Oh...”
“Lastly, Siyeol.”
“Speak.”
Now that he was full, his arrogant attitude had returned.
“You will work under Chilbok.”
“What? Under that ignorant-looking fellow?”
“Ignorant-looking? You brat, after we fed you!”
Chilbok flared up.
“Chilbok may not be skilled at reading, but he is quick with numbers. Help him organize the ledgers and manage the inventory. And...”
I tossed paper and a brush to Siyeol.
“Write down everything that happens here each day. A daily log. Record who did what and where problems arose. You will become my eyes and ears.”
Siyeol accepted the brush.
It was not simple manual labor, but work that used his mind.
A task that let him use his abilities without hurting his pride.
“Hmph. That much is easy. But I have one condition.”
“What is it?”
“Books. Let me read books. It looks like there are quite a few in your room.”
My room was filled with agricultural manuals, military strategy books, and miscellaneous knowledge notebooks I had written.
“Read whatever you want after work. But if you tear one, you die.”
“Fine. We have a deal.”
Siyeol grinned.
From that day onward, a new wind began to blow through the Great Peace Domain.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
The sound of hammers never ceased in the newly built forge.
Old Man Yeonam sat in a wheeled chair, giving orders with sharp eyes.
“You there! The temperature is too low! Work the bellows harder!”
“Your hammering angle is wrong! You need to temper the iron as you strike it!”
Under his command, Manseok and the assistants hammered iron.
Instead of the cheap shovels that broke easily, steel shovels with adjusted carbon content and greatly increased strength began pouring out.
And that was not all.
Hoes, hand hoes, sickles.
The farming tools of the Great Peace Domain now boasted the greatest durability under heaven.
In the kitchen, Beodeuri was making history.
“Move aside! It’s hot!”
Beodeuri effortlessly lifted and carried a gigantic cast-iron cauldron containing an eighty-kilogram sack of rice with her bare hands.
Whenever she passed by, a path opened before her as though Moses himself had parted the sea.
“Wow... She’s a true champion.”
The women could not close their mouths.
Beodeuri happily scraped up and ate scorched rice whenever she found a spare moment while cooking.
Once she took command of the kitchen, the food-serving speed doubled.
And in the office—the sarangbang—
“Big Brother—no, Master. The numbers are wrong here.”
Siyeol moved wooden counting rods swiftly while mercilessly criticizing Chilbok.
“What? Where?”
“The quantity of liquor jars received and the quantity sent out do not match. Someone either stole a bottle in the middle or broke one.”
Siyeol’s eye for detail was frightening.
He caught embezzlement and mistakes as though he had supernatural instincts.
Chilbok feared Siyeol, yet he was also happy that the work had become easier.
“This brat has a terrible personality, but he is incredible at work.”
All three of them did work worth not six nyang, but more than six hundred.
One evening, as I was leaving after inspecting the forge, Old Man Yeonam called to me.
“Sir.”
“Yes, Sir Yeonam. Is there anything inconvenient?”
“What inconvenience? This place is heaven itself.”
The old man pulled something from his pocket.
It was a small object wrapped in cloth.
“What is this?”
“I made it to pass the time. The knife you use, Sir... It looked far too dull.”
Yeonam held out a dagger.
When I drew it from its crude leather sheath, a cold gleam spilled forth.
A patterned steel blade.
It was a fine weapon forged by repeatedly folding and hammering the metal.
“Gasp...”
When I gripped the hilt, its curves fit my hand perfectly.
I dropped a strand of hair onto the blade. It split cleanly in two without a sound.
“Something this precious...”
“You recognized the worth of my hands, Sir. I ought to repay you with these same hands.”
Yeonam smiled broadly.
His wrinkled face was filled with pride.
He had clearly been a master craftsman at a weapons workshop in the past.
“Thank you. I will treasure it.”
I fastened the dagger at my waist.
It felt reassuring.
Snow fell heavily from the night sky.
The glow of the forge, the smoke from the kitchen, the lamp shining in the office.
And people who had found their places within them.
I knew it.
One day, these people would become the strongest shield and spear protecting the Great Peace Domain.
A miracle bought for six nyang.
It had begun with the willingness to see people as precious.
“It’s cold. Let’s go inside.”
I pulled my collar close and headed toward the warm house.
Tonight, Beodeuri was making soybean-pulp stew.
My mouth was already watering.