The next morning.
As the pale morning fog lifted from Galsan Village's marshland, an extraordinary sight was revealed in the yard before the shack.
"Big Brother... what are we going to do with all of this?"
Chilbok could not close his mouth.
The rice sacks they had guarded through the night, making sure not even a single rat came near.
We had already paid the Village Chief the promised lease payment, then happily added half a sack of rice as a gift.
Even so, we still had nine and a half sacks of rice left.
The cramped shack was already piled nearly to the ceiling with the Super Radishes we had harvested several days before, while rice sacks surrounded the yard like castle walls, leaving no room to even set a foot down.
"A happy problem."
I sat on top of a rice sack and basked in the morning sunlight.
The rough feel of the straw-woven sack pressed against my rear, but even that felt like a silk cushion.
Nearly ten sacks of rice.
In the Goryeo era, that was an enormous quantity—enough to feed an ordinary family of four for a full year.
In an age when people survived the barley famine by digging up grass roots, living with ten sacks of rice stacked up was something only a moderately wealthy farmer or better could manage.
But it was too much for the three of us to eat by ourselves.
"Manseok."
"Yes, Big Brother!"
Manseok stood glued to the rice sacks, as though he could not bear to leave their side. He looked like a mother bear guarding her cubs.
"How many days would it take you to eat an entire sack of rice?"
Manseok began seriously counting on his fingers.
"Hmm... If I pile rice high in soup bowls instead of rice bowls... and eat five meals a day... a month? No, I think I could finish it in about half a month."
"You crazy bastard. You plan to eat twenty sacks a year by yourself? Even an elephant eats less than you."
I clicked my tongue.
An ordinary adult man consumed two sacks of rice a year, three at most.
No matter how great Manseok's stomach was, five sacks would be enough for the three of us to eat until we burst for an entire year.
That meant nearly half would remain as surplus. Besides, we had radishes, mixed grains, and fish to catch and eat.
"Big Brother, let's sell it in town."
Chilbok suggested, his eyes shining.
It was as though I could hear the abacus beads clacking inside his head.
"Rice is four taels per sack right now. No, you know rice is precious because of the famine. If we're lucky, we could get five taels! If we sell only five sacks, that's twenty-five silver taels! Twenty-five taels!"
Chilbok passionately argued, spraying spit.
"That's more than the money we brought when the clan threw us out—twenty taels! With just one season of farming, we'd recover our original capital and then some!"
Twenty-five silver taels.
It was a fortune that an ordinary laborer might or might not earn after working nonstop for a year.
It was only natural that Chilbok was excited. How could he resist when he could see cash right before his eyes?
But I firmly shook my head.
"We're not selling it."
"Pardon? Why not? Rice goes to shit if you store it too long. Bugs eat it, mice chew through it, damp gets in, and mold grows..."
"Chilbok. You're looking at the trees and missing the forest."
I tapped the rice sacks.
"Think about it. How are we supposed to move five sacks of rice to the merchant houses in town?"
"Well... with A-frame carriers..."
"It's about twelve kilometers from here to town. We have to cross mountain paths, not just flat ground. Manseok is strong, but even if he carries two sacks at a time, he'll have to make three trips. A round trip is twenty-four kilometers. It'll wear him to the bone."
Transportation costs.
They were among the greatest costs in a premodern society. If we had an ox cart, things would be different, but we only had our bodies. We would wear out Manseok's knee joints trying to earn a few coins from rice.
"And there's a bigger problem."
My expression turned serious as I lowered my voice.
"It's a famine right now. Everyone's starving, and their eyes have gone wild. If we dump five sacks of rice into the town market at once, what kind of rumor do you think will spread?"
"Hmm... People will say those people from Galsan Village's marshland are rich?"
"Right. They won't say we're rich. They'll say we're prey."
I looked around us.
We still lived in a shabby shack in the middle of a rotten marshland, without even a proper fence.
"People will hear that those who live in Galsan Village's marshland have mountains of rice piled up. Once that rumor spreads, what do you think happens? Will people envy us?"
"......"
"Envy becomes jealousy, and jealousy becomes murderous intent. Bandits will come. They'll leap over the fence with blades every night. No, bandits are better, actually. Manseok can chase them off with a club."
I pointed north, toward the government office.
"The truly frightening ones are the corrupt officials at the government office. Once they catch the scent, they'll come running like hyenas. 'You illegally reclaimed land.' 'You evaded taxes.' 'Military provisions are short, so hand over a forced requisition.' They'll make up every excuse possible and take everything. We're exiled nobles with no family record or power. If they take it, that's the end."
A wealthy man without power was a criminal.
In chaotic times, if one had no strength to protect their wealth, that wealth became a blade that took their life.
Selling the rice as it was would be like advertising, 'Please come rob us.'
Chilbok's face turned pale.
He had only thought about making money, not about having it taken away.
"T-Then what do we do? Eat it all? Until Manseok's belly bursts?"
Manseok interrupted with shining eyes.
His expression begged for us to do exactly that.
"No. We'll reduce the volume and double the price."
I stroked the rice sacks and grinned.
"Value-added processing."
"V-Value-added what?"
"One sack of rice is worth four taels, right? If we process it into something else, one sack's worth of rice becomes two casks of alcohol. Good clear rice wine can fetch four or five taels per cask. So how much does one sack of rice become worth?"
Chilbok counted on his fingers.
"E-Eight... ten taels?!"
"Right. Doubling the price."
The two of them's mouths fell open.
"Its weight drops from ten to one, so it's easy to bottle and transport. The alcohol is strong, so it doesn't spoil, making it easy to store. Most importantly, alcohol is a luxury good. Famine or not, its price is whatever people are willing to pay."
This was a high-value strategy.
Selling raw materials—rice—was amateur work. Selling processed goods—alcohol—was expert work.
"B-But Big Brother... saying it is easy, but is brewing alcohol an ordinary task?"
Chilbok's expression darkened again.
"I saw alcohol being brewed at a lord's house long ago. It isn't something anyone can do. If the temperature is even a little off, it turns into vinegar or grows mold... If we use five sacks of rice and fail, won't we lose all our winter food?"
Chilbok's concerns were reasonable.
Brewing technology at the time was a secret passed down through generations. Since there was no temperature control or knowledge of microorganisms, the chance of failure was very high. That was why poor people did not dare try to brew alcohol with precious rice.
"Don't worry. Who do you think I am?"
I rose and entered the shack.
I searched through an old bundle hidden deep in the corner.
A small jar I had brought from the clan when I was thrown out, valuing it more than my clothes.
"What do you think this is?"
I carried the jar outside and opened the lid.
Chilbok and Manseok approached, sniffing.
"Hmm... It smells like wheat cakes? Or fruit? It's powder?"
Ordinary fermentation starter smelled musty with mold or like fermented soybean blocks, but this one was fragrant.
"This is the culmination of ten years of research: Great Peace Fermentation Starter."
"Great Peace Fermentation Starter?"
"That's right. While I was pretending to be a fool at the clan, I secretly snuck into the library, searched through old texts, and experimented in the vegetable patch to make it."
The truth was that ninety percent of it came from knowledge from my previous life.
I had taken fermentation microbiology as an elective at an agricultural university.
Pure culturing of yeast.
Killing contaminating microbes and selectively cultivating only the powerful yeast that caused alcoholic fermentation.
Inside this powder slept tens of thousands—hundreds of millions—of elite yeast soldiers.
"With this alone, the failure rate is zero. You don't have to worry about it turning into vinegar. And it can make alcohol five times stronger than ordinary liquor in only a week."
"This one jar can handle five sacks of rice without a problem."
"I-Is that true? If you waste the rice, Big Brother, you'll take responsibility."
"I will. I stake my head on it."
I declared it solemnly.
"All right, let's start construction."
"Construction?"
"Alcohol is all about temperature. If we leave it in the shack, the heat will ruin it. We need to build a dedicated house."
We got to work immediately.
The moment farming ended, we became construction workers. There was no time to rest.
Beside the shack, we selected an open space shaded by a large willow tree.
"Manseok, dig. Make it as deep as your waist."
"Yes! I'm confident about digging! Just leave it to me!"
Manseok threw off his top and picked up a pickaxe.
His sun-darkened, muscular back gleamed.
THUD! THUD!
Chunks of dirt flew up whenever the pickaxe struck the ground.
Thanks to Manseok's monstrous strength, the earth was dug out in no time.
"We're making it semi-underground."
Temperature was the lifeblood of alcohol.
If jars were left above ground, the summer heat would raise the temperature, causing the liquor to boil over or turn sour.
If we buried them, the ground would maintain a stable temperature. It would be a natural temperature-controlled chamber.
Chilbok gathered broad stones from the nearby stream and built up the floor and walls.
To keep moisture from rising, he laid stones across the ground, then spread thick straw on top.
Using bricks I had baked from marsh mud, I built a hearth and a place to set a pot.
Rice had to be steamed to brew alcohol, so we needed an outdoor kitchen.
"Heave! Heave!"
In half a day, a proper semi-underground storehouse and outdoor kitchen had appeared beside the shack.
We covered the top with wooden boards and dirt, leaving only a vent, and it became a perfect storage space.
"Now wash the rice."
"All of it?"
"Only five sacks for now."
Of the nine and a half sacks, we would keep four and a half as food and use five sacks—about four hundred kilograms—to brew alcohol.
Even if we failed, we would have enough food to survive the winter. Of course, it would still hurt, but one had to invest to make money.
Groaning, we carried the rice sacks to the stream.
We poured the rice into the clear stream water and began washing it.
SHHHK—SHHHK—
Milky rice-washing water flowed down the stream.
Normally, even this rice-washing water would be too precious to waste, and people would use it to make soup. But we boldly let it flow away.
"Big Brother, why are we washing so much rice? We could just rinse it quickly."
Chilbok complained, perhaps because his hands were cold.
"No. Rinse it a hundred times."
"Pardon? A hundred times? The grains will wear away completely!"
"Stop complaining and do it. To make premium alcohol, we have to strip away the rice's surface and wash it clean to remove off-flavors."
The surface of rice grains contained a lot of protein and fat. They were nutrients when eating rice, but when brewing alcohol, they caused off-flavors and hangovers.
The higher the milling rate and the more thoroughly the rice was washed, the cleaner and more fragrant the alcohol became. It was the secret to making premium clear rice wine.
"If it smells like rice bran, the whole thing fails. Wash until the water is as clear as glass!"
"My arms..."
Manseok and Chilbok pouted, but washed the rice diligently.
They continued until the stream water that had turned cloudy became clear once more.
Their hands became wrinkled, and their backs felt ready to snap, but they could not stop.
We put the washed rice back into clear water to soak.
We had to wait until each grain absorbed enough water and grew plump.
The preparations were not complete until sunset.
Giant basins filled with soaked rice, Great Peace Fermentation Starter, and five large jars sterilized with boiling water.
"Whew... This is hard."
Manseok wiped away sweat and sat down.
His stomach rumbled.
"Big Brother, I'm hungry. Can't I pick out some of the alcohol rice to eat?"
"No. Starting at dawn tomorrow, we'll steam the rice and mix it. Endure until then."
I said as I covered the basins of soaked rice.
Looking at the prepared ingredients in the darkening yard made my heart race.
"Tomorrow, this rice will work magic."
"Big Brother, this will truly become alcohol, right? If it turns into vinegar, I'll cry."
Chilbok asked anxiously until the very end.
Five sacks of rice.
It was a gamble that used half of the greatest wealth he had ever touched in his life.
"Don't worry. I guarantee that once you take a sip of this alcohol, you'll start dancing."
I looked up at the night sky.
The stars shone brightly.
Tomorrow was finally the day.
Instead of rotting away, this rice would be reborn into a golden liquid. The alchemy would begin.
The thought of Gaegyeong's nobles tasting my alcohol and losing their minds made me laugh without meaning to.
"All right, sleep early. Tomorrow is war."