Summer came.
Summer on the Korean Peninsula showed no mercy.
It was the season when sweat ran down your back even if you stood still, and the humid air tightened around your throat.
The sixth lunar month.
In an ordinary Goryeo farming village, this should have been the height of the busy season.
It was the time to fill the paddies with water, pull barnyard grass, and wage war against weeds until one's back bent.
The rice would have barely reached knee height, leaving the world covered in nothing but green.
But the sight at the entrance to Galsan Village, on the outskirts of Gold Province, was strange.
The entire world was green, except for one place.
Only the gravel field leased by Choi San shone yellow and gold.
"Huh... Huh..."
Village Chief Kim's hands trembled behind his back.
He rubbed his eyes again and again.
Unless he had gone senile, what he saw had to be a hallucination.
"That... is rice?"
Before him spread waves of rice ears drooping heavily.
Every grain was full and plump, ready to burst.
Whenever the wind blew, golden waves rippled through the field with a SHHHHH—, a sound that made a farmer's heart race.
"This is impossible... What time of year is it?"
Sowing had only ended not long ago.
The harvest was supposed to come in September or October, when cold winds blew.
Yet that field had somehow skipped three months of time.
"Goblins... A goblin from the haunted land must've ripened the grain..."
The village farmers passing by dropped their sickles.
They stared at the golden field with eyes filled with fear and awe.
In the middle of the ridge between the fields stood a young man wearing a straw hat.
It was Choi San.
"Manseok! Chilbok! Sharpen the sickles!"
Choi San's voice rang out.
"Today is the day. Harvest day!"
"B-Big Brother... are we really cutting them? Are they truly ripe?"
Chilbok hesitated with a sickle in hand.
He had learned farming while living as a slave, watching over others' shoulders. Cutting rice in the middle of summer was madness.
If they cut it while it was unripe and got nothing but empty husks, three months of labor would vanish into nothing.
"Shell one."
"Pardon?"
"If you doubt it, shell a grain and chew it."
I snapped off an ear of rice and tossed it to Chilbok.
With trembling hands, Chilbok peeled away the husk.
A hard white grain emerged. He put it in his mouth and bit down.
CRUNCH.
A crisp sound rang out.
"Huh...? It's hard."
"The moisture has dried perfectly, and the color is right too. If we leave it any longer, the grains will fall and the sparrows will have a feast. Move quickly!"
"Woooow! Rice! It's really rice!"
Manseok had already lost his mind.
The word rice had taken over his brain.
"Raaah!"
Manseok ran into the field.
SWISH—SWISH—
His speed was terrifying.
Every time Manseok swung his sickle, thick clumps of rice were cleanly cut down.
He was working at a pace that would normally require three or four people.
I picked up a sickle as well.
It was one I had sharpened until blisters formed on my palms.
Great Peace No. 1.
An extremely early-ripening variety, the culmination of my ten years of research.
It was being harvested exactly ninety days after sowing.
Considering that ordinary rice took more than one hundred fifty days, it was a miraculous speed.
But speed was not its only strength.
Thanks to the leaf mold and liquid fertilizer I had poured into the field, the number of ears was more than double that of ordinary rice.
The stalks were thick and sturdy, standing firm even against monsoon rain and wind.
"Heave!"
I swung my sickle as sweat poured down like rain.
My back was drenched, but I did not find it difficult.
The weight of the rice being cut was the weight of money and the weight of survival.
"Y-Young Master! No, Sir!"
Someone urgently called from the ridge between the fields.
It was the Village Chief.
I straightened up and wiped away my sweat.
"You're here, Village Chief. I don't charge an admission fee."
"That's not it... Is that truly rice? Could it perhaps be yellowed barnyard grass?"
Even after coming close, the Village Chief could not believe it.
"Come in and see. Touch it yourself."
Once I gave permission, the Village Chief cautiously stepped into the paddy.
With trembling hands, he lifted a bundle of rice that Manseok had cut.
It was heavy.
It was not a bundle of empty husks. The solid weight of full grains pressed against his fingertips.
"Gasp... Good heavens... Good heavens..."
Tears welled up in the Village Chief's eyes.
It was the awe of an old farmer who had spent his life digging in the dirt.
And the bitter envy of one of the people suffering through famine.
"How can this be... The heavens must be helping you..."
"It wasn't the heavens. It was fertilizer."
I grinned and picked up my sickle again.
"Now that you've finished watching, please step aside. We have to cut everything today, so we're busy."
"Ah, yes... Yes! Forgive me for interrupting!"
The Village Chief hurriedly stepped back, but he kept turning around to look.
There was less greed than fear in his eyes, as though he had seen a god.
By the time the sun began to set, the cutting was complete.
Thanks to Manseok's monstrous strength, we had finished in half a day.
Now came the threshing.
We spread a straw mat across the yard and prepared a broad, flat stone slab.
Since we had no threshing machine, we had to use the primitive method of hand threshing, beating bundles of rice against a stone or wooden surface.
"Strike them!"
SLAP! SLAP!
Manseok grabbed a bundle of rice and slammed it against the stone slab.
SHHHHH.
Golden unhusked rice grains poured down like rain.
Chilbok swept the fallen grains into piles with a broom, while I took a winnowing basket and tossed the grains into the wind, letting the chaff blow away.
WHOOOSH—
As the straw drifted away on the wind, only pure grains piled up before us.
"Big Brother... it never ends."
Chilbok said between gasps.
"We're running out of sacks! We've already used all the ones we bought in town!"
"Tear up any old clothes in the storehouse and fill them! Don't spill even one grain!"
Threshing did not finish until deep into the night.
Rice sacks were piled like a tower in the yard before the shack.
"How many sacks?"
When I asked, Chilbok held up a torch and counted on his fingers.
"One, two... seven... Ah, nine... ten! Big Brother! Ten sacks!"
"Ten sacks?!"
I shouted without thinking.
We had leased 1,650 square meters, but we had only planted rice on about 990 square meters.
In an ordinary year, even three or four sacks from roughly 990 square meters—one and a half rice-field plots—would be considered a bountiful harvest.
But ten sacks?
It was nearly three times the yield of ordinary farming.
This was a miracle.
A revolution in productivity caused by bringing modern agricultural technology—high-yield crops and fertilizer—into the medieval era.
"Crazy... This is really crazy..."
Manseok rubbed his face against a rice sack and muttered blankly.
He was the child of slaves who had farmed his entire life. He had never produced so much rice with his own hands.
He had always worked himself to the bone, only for the owner to take everything and leave him with scraps to steal and eat.
"Is all of this... ours?"
Manseok asked with tears in his eyes.
"Yes. It's all ours."
Then I sensed someone's presence in the darkness.
It was Village Chief Kim. He had not gone home and was watching the scene from a distance.
"Hah... All of that is rice..."
The Village Chief stared at the tower of rice sacks with a lost expression.
He had been delighted to receive fifty radishes the previous month, but before the majesty of rice—the staple food—he seemed utterly overwhelmed.
It was obvious from his face that he deeply regretted settling his contractual debt with fifty radishes.
'Oh, I should've waited and asked for rice instead... I was crazy to be blinded by mere radishes...'
The Village Chief's thoughts were written plainly across his face.
Removing my dirt-stained gloves, I walked over to him.
"Village Chief, you still haven't gone home?"
"Ah, yes... Yes... It's incredible, Sir. In my entire life, I've never seen a yield like this per rice-field plot. And in summer, no less."
The Village Chief smacked his lips regretfully. He could not take his eyes off the sacks.
"We settled everything with radishes last time, so I have nothing more to give you."
At my deliberately cold words, the Village Chief flinched and frantically waved his hands.
"No, of course not! We ate the radishes you gave us very well. The contract is finished. Naturally..."
Though he said that, his shoulders slumped.
He could not bring himself to leave empty-handed.
I snickered.
Regret, awe, and a faint expectation toward me all coexisted in the Village Chief's heart.
This was the moment to drive in the wedge.
If I wanted to expand my domain and employ workers in the future, I needed the cooperation of the village leader.
"Chilbok."
"Yes, Big Brother."
"Take half a sack of rice to the Village Chief's home."
"Pardon?!"
Chilbok and the Village Chief shouted at the same time.
Half a sack of rice was worth two taels. During a famine, it was worth even more.
It was several months' worth of living expenses for commoners.
"Y-Young Master? But our accounts are settled. How could I possibly..."
"This isn't payment. It's a gift."
I placed a hand on the Village Chief's shoulder.
"We farmed well thanks to the land you leased us. And..."
I lowered my voice and spoke in confidence.
"I'll need help with village matters in the future, so consider it a greeting and a bribe(?). I'm not a difficult person."
"Gasp...!"
The Village Chief's eyes reddened.
Beyond their contract, I was handing over precious newly harvested rice without hesitation.
The Village Chief now fully realized that Choi San was a true big shot who would feed this village.
"Thank you... Thank you so much, Sir! I will never forget this kindness, even in death! Just give the word, and I'll do anything you ask!"
The Village Chief knelt on the dirt of the ridge between the fields and bowed.
It was no different from a pledge of loyalty.
"Manseok, see the Village Chief home."
"Understood! Heave!"
Manseok effortlessly hoisted half a sack of rice onto his shoulder.
The Village Chief kept bowing as he hurried after Manseok.
Watching their backs, Chilbok grumbled.
"Big Brother, aren't you giving away too much? Do you know how much that rice is worth...?"
"Don't think so small."
I looked at the remaining nine and a half sacks.
"That half sack will make the old Village Chief my loyal man later. It's cheap for the price of gaining a person."
"Hmm... I truly cannot understand what's inside your head, Big Brother. I thought you were a foolish young master, but you're a complete snake."
"I'll take that as a compliment. All right, the rest belongs to us."
I pointed toward the huge cauldron.
"What's for dinner tonight?"
"R-Rice!"
We immediately began milling the rice.
We put the rice into a mortar and pounded it.
THUD, THUD, THUD.
The outer husks came off. Once the inner layer of rice bran was stripped away, pale white grains appeared.
The rice passed through its brown form and became white rice.
It was not as smooth as machine-milled rice, but it was pure white rice all the same.
"Put on the water."
We put rice into the huge cauldron.
Mixed grains? Millet? Barnyard millet? Not a single grain of them was added.
There was only rice and clear water.
We lit the fire in the hearth.
As the firewood crackled, white steam rose from the gap beneath the cauldron's lid.
SIZZLE—
"Haa..."
Chilbok flared his nostrils.
His eyes grew dreamy.
"Big Brother, the smell... the smell is insane."
The rich smell of rice.
It was on a completely different level from the coarse scent of barley rice or the fishy smell of millet.
Sweet, nutty, and comforting.
That scent was deeply imprinted into the DNA of Koreans, and it filled the shack.
"Let it steam. Be patient a little longer."
Suppressing my urge to lift the lid, I adjusted the fire.
The five minutes of steaming felt like five years.
At last.
"I'm opening it."
I grasped the lid's handle.
Manseok, who had returned from the Village Chief's home, and Chilbok stretched out their necks, swallowing hard.
WHOOSH!
With a burst of hot steam, a dazzling white color appeared.
Rice glistening with moisture.
Each grain looked plump and alive.
"Wow..."
An exclamation escaped us on its own.
I scooped the rice with a wooden spatula.
There was no need for bowls. I piled the rice high in large basins.
True farmhand-sized bowls of rice.
The side dishes were rich soybean-paste soup cooked with pork hind leg bought in town, and fresh salted-radish salad made from radishes pulled straight from the field.
Even a king's royal table would have nothing on this feast.
"Here. Take it."
I handed the heaping bowls of rice to Manseok and Chilbok.
They were heavy.
"Big Brother, you should eat first."
"Forget it. You worked hard, so eat first."
"Then... thank you for the meal!"
Manseok took up his spoon with trembling hands.
He scooped up a huge spoonful of rice and put it into his mouth.
Chew, chew.
Manseok's eyes widened, then tears began welling along their edges.
"Urgh... Sob..."
Large tears like chicken droppings fell from the big man's eyes.
He covered his mouth and cried, apparently afraid grains of rice would spill out. It was both pitiful and funny.
"Why are you crying, you bastard? Does it taste bad?"
"No... Sob... It's so... so soft... It goes down without even chewing... It tastes like honey..."
Manseok had eaten rough mixed-grain rice or porridge for his entire life.
The soft texture and sweetness of white rice, melting in his mouth, must have been a complete shock to him.
So this was the food nobles ate.
When I looked beside him, Chilbok was sniffling too.
"Young Master... no, Big Brother... I'll serve you for the rest of my life. You're the only master in the world who lets us eat white rice until our bellies burst..."
"Who are you calling a master? I'm your big brother."
I took a spoonful too.
Sweetness spread through my entire mouth.
Yes, this was the taste.
This rice, eaten in a stinking marshland shack, was a hundred times more delicious than the cold meals I had swallowed while watching everyone's moods at the main house in Gaegyeong for ten years.
"Eat plenty. There's lots of rice in the pot."
"Yes! I'll have two bowls!"
"I'll have three!"
We silently shoveled down rice.
We mixed the soup into the rice, then ate it with crisp salted-radish salad.
Our bellies felt ready to burst, but we could not put down our spoons.
The comfort and hope that came from this one meal.
For the first time, we truly felt that we had thrown off the tiresome shackles of poverty.
Sleepiness came flooding in after we had eaten our fill.
But instead of sleeping, I went out into the yard.
Nine and a half sacks of rice were stacked under the moonlight.
'It would be amateurish to simply sell this.'
One sack of rice was worth four taels. With a little over nine sacks left, it was not even forty taels.
It was a large sum, of course, but not enough to establish a domain.
But what if I processed it?
If I made alcohol, its value would jump tenfold, twentyfold.
I looked at the jars I had hidden deep in a corner of the shack.
My true weapon.
Improved fermentation starter.
"Manseok! Chilbok!"
I called to the two of them inside, where they were rubbing their bellies.
"Yes, Big Brother!"
"Starting tomorrow, we're not farming."
"Then what are we doing? Resting again?"
"No. We're building."
I stroked the rice sacks and smiled wickedly.
"I'm going to turn all this rice into drinkable gold. We're building a brewery."