Roughly a fortnight after that creamy, golden marvel we call mayonnaise first arrived in this world, I noticed something rather fascinating. It had already slipped right out of my own hands—my hands, the evangelist, the great Mayonnaise-Messiah!—and was busily, wonderfully evolving on its own.
Naturally, after the Tuna-Mayo-like Sandwich had its grand, slightly confusing debut, people moved on to poultry.
And now, the magnificent Bird-Mayo Sandwich was busy taking over the entire little town. Then, Claire Age-san, bless her big, smart heart, proposed, "You know, Shin-san, couldn't we use this stuff on all those plentiful potatoes we have?" And so, the extremely cheap, utterly delicious Potato-Mayo-like Sandwich became the absolute must-have meal for every child in the place.
Using potatoes! Honestly, it was a complete, thick-headed oversight that the idea of using humble potatoes had completely slipped my mind. (Why in the world had I started with the tuna, which was far more complicated to source? It made no sense!)
I really had to watch myself. My thoughts often got ahead of my common sense in this baffling way.
But this is where the prices settled, you see: the Bird-Mayo Sandwich was about one silver coin and five copper pieces ($15.00), the Tuna-Mayo-like Sandwich was just one silver coin ($10.00), and the Potato-Mayo-like Sandwich was a paltry five copper pieces ($5.00). The prices, alas, had climbed higher than I had initially intended. It wasn't that I had changed my mind and decided to go for the 'luxury route'—not at all!
It was simply that the demand had soared so high it caused a little economic price bubble. But, always a good fellow, the portions I sent to the orphans' house were specially cooked for free, with me covering all the ingredients. And even the ones sold to the other children were sold at half price, with the one condition that the first batch of mayonnaise each month would always be free.
As for the eggs, we were managing a lovely little production of five to eight eggs every two days or so. If this kept up, we could be looking at a hundred eggs a month!
Since one jar of mayonnaise requires six eggs, that's about fifteen jars a month. Not bad at all, though I did have other, rather more critical, uses for those eggs.
Which brings us to where I was standing right now.
"My apologies for the delay, Shin-san. If you would, please review the contract contents and the terms once more."
I was deep in the mansion of Carman-san, the Count Doorn-sama's chief merchant, finalizing the details of a brand new deal. And yes, of course, it was all about the mayonnaise.
They hadn't shipped it to the Royal Capital yet, but they had presented a sample to the Count, and he, the big, plump man, had apparently adored it. He was offering fifty gold pieces per jar!
And he had been brutally honest in his assessment, too: he reckoned it would sell for at least a hundred gold pieces in the Royal Capital. Such a monstrously high figure made me blink and ask for confirmation, like a stunned trout.
"W-wait, Carman-san. Even for a condiment that uses so many luxurious eggs, can it really sell for this much?" I protested, looking at the jar of fresh, creamy 'mayonnaise' I had brought for the meeting, waiting for his theatrical response.
"What on earth are you saying, sir!" Carman exclaimed, practically fluttering his hands over the jar
Well, on Earth, spices used to cost a king's ransom, so I suppose it's not unheard of. And here, where a good meal is practically a form of entertainment, there must be a huge market for it among the obsessively wealthy.
"However," I pointed out, "in this little town, folks can eat that wonderful 'mayonnaise' cuisine for a very, very modest price."
"Ah, that area is what we call 'operating at a loss for the sake of market penetration'—or something like that," he mumbled, fiddling with his collar. "We intend to make it widely known first, you see."
It was true. For a merchant like Carman-san, the prices here, even just for the wholesale mayonnaise, must look ridiculously, perhaps even unfairly, low.
I wonder what face he'd make if he knew I was selling it to the 'Clan' Inn for one silver, and other eateries for just a few silver coins? It's a secret, naturally.
He noticed me staring at him, and his eyes flickered nervously between me and the contract papers, as if worried I'd seen a flaw in his character. I immediately snapped back into the negotiation mood.
"Right, then. About the price," I began.
"Yes?" he replied, bracing himself.
"Could we lower that fifty gold pieces to forty?"
Carman-san's eyes ping-ponged between me and the document, and he just stared, looking utterly bewildered.
"Eh? Er... lower the price? You don't mean raise it?" he sputtered.
"No, lower it," I confirmed. "And in return, if I may be so bold, I need you to supply us with more oil, vinegar, and salt—especially the oil and vinegar. More than you're providing now."
"Ah! I see. If that is the arrangement, then by all means!" he cried with sudden relief.
The rest of the discussion went swimmingly after that. The final contract stipulated that the exact volume of delivery would be left up to me, and with a swift scratch of the quill, the deal was done.
"Well, then, thank you for your hard work today, Shin-san. Haaaah." Carman-san sighed, neatly aligning the various documents on the table before offering his goodbyes.
"? Is something the matter, Carman-san?" I asked, a genuine note of concern in my voice. "Are you feeling tired or..."
"Oh, no, no, my apologies for the rudeness!" he worry-waved. "It's just that I must report back to the Count's mansion next, and then journey all the way to the Royal Capital for further business! And the thought of leaving this town... it is simply agonizing! The fish, the meat, the bath, the toilet... and the Foot-Stomping Dance! Ughhhh!"
I felt a pang of pity for the fellow, but there wasn't much I could do. It did make me wonder, though, what the Count's home was like now.
"Doesn't the Count's mansion have the same kind of bath or flush toilet that I made in the town?" I wondered aloud.
"Oh, they copied your design immediately, the moment you finished it in the town! They have them now, and the servants are even allowed to use them," he admitted. "But it's simply not as relaxing as the atmosphere here! And, what's more, they are entirely lacking the Foot-Stomping Dance!"
Hmm, I nodded, and a new question occurred to me.
"The Foot-Stomping Dance, then? Have you heard if the Count-sama has said anything about that?"
"He heard my account and seems quite interested, but he has an odd resistance to the idea of being stepped on by a commoner," Carman-san explained, shaking his head. "If only he would experience it just once, he would change his mind instantly, surely."
Right, of course. This is a world of rigid class structure. Such prejudice about being touched by a lower-class person makes a grim sort of sense here.
The contract was signed, the business was done, and so I decided to head back to the 'Clan' Inn for a little rest.
"Shin-san!"
"Ah, Pack-san."
As soon as I arrived, I saw a familiar face. This man, whose long hair could make him look like a woman from a distance, was the town's Apothecary (kusushi).
He was in his late twenties, about my height, and on the lean side. He wasn't an adventurer, but he often put out requests for medicinal herbs, making him a close acquaintance of the Guild.
"What brings you here today?" I asked.
"A-actually," Pack fretted, already looking worried, "I have a child with a fever..."
I immediately whipped my head toward the kitchen and bellowed for the Innkeeper.
"Claire Age-san!"
"I'm making it right now! Just wait there!" she hollered back from the bustling heat of the kitchen.
We both exchanged a relieved look, and a collective whoosh of air left our chests.
"I-I'm sorry," Pack stammered, "I should have told you I'd already spoken to her first."
"N-no, it's quite alright," I assured him. "It was the agreement, after all."
That 'agreement' referred to the egg's 'other use'.
About a week prior, there had been a discussion between the sole medical professional, Pack-san, the Guild, and the Innkeeper. They had decided to supply eggs as 'patient food'.
After all, the nutritional value of an egg is stupendously high. Pack-san, though he didn't know the first thing about modern nutrition science, understood the ancient wisdom that eating animal-based food led to faster recovery magic to heal almost anything, just by being alive.
But children, whose magic control is too raw, have no such luxury. For them, the quality of their external diet directly impacts their recovery and survival rate. The same awful truth as back on Earth, really.
"So, the child with the fever," I inquired. "Is he from the orphanage?"
"No, not from the orphanage," Pack replied, relief softening his features. "Their food situation has vastly improved lately."
A slightly uncharitable, but honest, thought made me feel better about that. It was true; they ate meat or fish almost every day now, though it was certainly costing me my weekends.
"And his condition, then? How is he?"
"The fever is down thanks to the medicine I mixed, but his physical strength is lower than I had hoped. I judged it the perfect time for the special Patient Food," Pack admitted.
And that, of course, was left entirely to his professional judgment. Part of the reason was simply deferring to the expert, but the other part was to discourage folks from faking sickness just to get the meal.
And what exactly was this miraculous meal? It was a glorious mess: about three cups' worth of barley gruel, three whole eggs, and finely chopped bird and fish, all boiled together. A truly chaotic combination, yes, but undeniably the most nutritious meal this town could conjure up.
After barely ten minutes, the Innkeeper, a blur of motion, placed 'it' before us in a small pot. A wonderful, rich steam rising from the heated eggs tickled the nose.
Barley gruel often smells quite strong, but the egg's powerful scent was dominant, and it wasn't an unpleasant smell at all. In fact, it smelled like the best breakfast you could ever imagine.
"Alright, there you are, dear. Don't drop it on the way, and don't you dare sneak any bites yourself," Claire Age warned, wiping her hands on her apron.
"I wouldn't think of it!" he promised.
Pack-san cradled the pot carefully, bowed his head repeatedly in gratitude, and then scurried out of the inn. Claire Age-san and I watched him go.
"Hmph," she sighed, putting her hands on her hips. "Are you sure about giving that away for free?"
"Well, it's meant for emergencies," I reasoned. "And besides, it's a great way to boost the Guild's reputation."
It wasn't just my personal charity; the Guild was involved.
Specifically, the Guild Master, Jan-san, was enthusiastically on board with the plan, mostly because of the orphans. As Pack-san had noted, the orphans were now eating at an extremely high standard, which meant they were well-fed and healthy.
It was actually an irony that the 'Patient Food' plan began with a conversation that had a different purpose. Since my arrival, the Adventurer Guild—once a gathering place for those who couldn't find work—had seen a massive shift.
With more jobs available (bird and fish harvesting, the sewage system, public baths, the chicken coop), the classic Bronze-class task of gathering medicinal herbs had become horribly unpopular. And the one who caused this upheaval—me—was the one they had to come to for a solution.
A clear-cut case of one benefit leading to two new problems. It's truly non-realistic to think that everything can go smoothly without causing trouble somewhere else, I lamented internally.
It was a delicate situation, a sort of awkward sandwich, because the town couldn't very well ignore me, the 'Giant-Boar Killer,' but they also couldn't dismiss the precious Apothecary, who was the closest thing they had to a doctor. In this delicate political dance, the Guild Master, myself, and the newer Bronze-class members who hadn't worked on my projects gathered for a talk.
They settled on an arrangement: just like the bird-catching, a few times a month, a group would go out on an 'expedition' to gather herbs, specifically acting as Pack-san's guards. This was also a personal request from me. I was starting to feel nervous about the visible surge in consumption of fish and poultry, and I worried about local resource depletion.
Therefore, the main goal of the expedition would be to secure and transport birds and fish from farther-out locations. They would certainly bring back herbs, but not in huge quantities. Gil-kun and Luce-san would be joining, which should be more than enough for security.
Pack-san hadn't actually called for this 'expedition' yet, but since my work for the day was finished, and I had some time before dinner, I figured a little nap wouldn't hurt. I retreated to my room on the Inn's second floor, which was now effectively my permanent suite.
"Shin-san! Are you there? You have a visitor!"
The sound of a loud rapping at the door and Claire Age-san's voice woke me up.
It didn't sound like she was here to tell me dinner was ready. I climbed out of bed, tidied myself up, and quickly hurried down the stairs.
Waiting for me there was—
"Ah! Shin-san!"
"Pack-san? Did something else happen?" I asked, fearing the worst. Had the child's condition worsened? Even if it had, there wasn't much I could personally do...
"N-no, no! The Patient Food was wonderful!" he breathed, his face lighting up. "The child, who had lost their appetite, ate a great deal of it!"
"That's good to hear," I admitted, feeling a wave of relief. "But then, why are you here?"
Surely he hadn't walked all the way back just to give me a report. What a conscientious man! As I thought this, he opened his mouth.
"It's about the Expedition," he stated, his relief giving way to professional worry. "My medicine and herbs are running low. The recent treatment completely depleted some of my stock."
Ah, right. We had talked about it a week ago, but we hadn't set a date.
"I understand. And when—"
"Tomorrow, if possible."
"...Tomorrow?"
"Yes, tomorrow."
Pack-san looked at me with an expression that clearly said, 'Is there something wrong with that?' I let my mind go blank for a moment, letting my soul take a little vacation out to the nearest galaxy. I had been in this world for nearly six months, and while I thought I had adjusted, this constant difference in tempo from the Japanese notion of 'strict adherence to schedules' still jarred me.
A modern person would calculate when they would run out, make a generous buffer, and schedule well in advance. But here, I realized that the 'primitive' style of 'run out, then restock' was the default. Only grains were stored in large quantity.
Even Pack-san, who was relatively well-off, operated under two constraints: storage method and storage space. He had a corner in the town's food storage, but it was just a cool, dark place.
Many medicines couldn't be preserved that way. For those, you had to wait until they were gone before getting more. The idea of having a buffer, a rotating stock, was a luxury this town simply couldn't afford.
"Is there a problem with tomorrow?" Pack asked, seeing me lost in thought.
"No, I'm fine," I reassured him. "But I'm not sure if the other Expedition members can be assembled that quickly."
Gil-kun and Luce-san are practically my personal staff; they should be fine, even on their days off.
Probably. And the Bronze-class folks? They're not exactly busy, are they? Wait, I think they actually might be okay after all.
He gave me that look again: 'Is there something wrong with that?' I conceded. He's the one who's lived in this world longer, after all.
"I-I understand," I yielded. "I will go to the Guild tomorrow morning, then."
"Excellent! I look forward to it!" Pack-san exclaimed with great enthusiasm.
And with that, I parted ways with him and decided to get an early night to prepare for the unexpected journey.
—The very next day, I was up early.
As promised, I led Gil-kun, Luce-san, Pack-san, and three new, fresh-faced Bronze-class members into the forest magic, but they were all in that awkward magical middle ground: they couldn't use any other magic well, which meant they were cash-strapped and had plenty of free time. They were, thankfully, better off now that they could work odd jobs at the public bath.
They hailed from the same village, about a three-day journey from the town, having left because they simply couldn't make a living back home. Seeing these earnest young people struggling so much made me wonder if I was finally getting old—this sudden urge to help them, to make things right.
Magic, by the way, comes in four main flavors in this world: Fire, Earth, Wind, and Water. The 'Special' types, like Milia-san, Raid-kun, and the Guild Master, are extremely rare.
Wind is the rarest of the four, while Water is quite common. Fire and Earth are judged by one, crucial thing: can you use them for attack? This is where their evaluation splits completely, like it used to be for Luce-san before she found her groove. All three newcomers were in that frustrating category of 'Fire and Earth, but not specialized for offense'.
But they were so useful during the sewer construction! Maybe I should just start a 'Civil Engineering Magic' commission for them? I was so absorbed in my mental planning that I didn't notice Gil-kun waving his hand in front of my face until he did it a second time.
"Oh, I'm sorry," I apologized, snapping back to reality. "I was just thinking."
"Please, have a heart, Shin-san," Gil-kun pleaded, his eyes wide with worry. "When the Giant-Boar Killer spaces out, we're all in big trouble if something happens! We can't handle it on our own!"
We had been walking for nearly two hours, following the river downstream. I turned to the 'VIP' of our little group.
"Pack-san, where should we start collecting the herbs?" I inquired.
He suddenly turned around, his eyes glittering with an entirely different, manic kind of focus.
"RIGHT! We will begin collecting here! This is a treasure trove of materials! We can pick and choose! Hee hee hee hee hee..."
Had a weird switch just been flipped inside the man? I decided not to ask and instead gave instructions to the five expedition members. It was simple: set up fish and bird traps near the river and in the tall grasses.
The three new faces, naturally, didn't understand the complex mechanisms, so I just told them, "There is a certain magic spell on the traps," which they accepted without question. I cautioned Pack-san to stay within my line of sight while he foraged and told everyone to start their work.
"If you sense any danger, scream immediately, and run back here!"
Ten minutes later, Gil-kun and Luce-san, due to their greater experience, were back at my waiting spot. I kept one eye on Pack-san and asked them about local gossip.
"How is the orphanage? Are there any strange movements nearby?"
They both shook their heads simultaneously.
"At the very least, I don't think anyone in the town would dare try anything foolish," Gil-kun stated.
"It's well known that the Guild Master and Shin-san care deeply for the orphans, so only a fool would risk it," Luce-san added, then wrinkled her nose a little. "What worries me more are the new children."
New children? I wondered. Ah, she meant the new staff for the Foot-Stomping Dance.
"What about them?" I puzzled.
They both pressed their lips into a thin, grim line.
"The possibility of their parents selling them... as slaves," Gil-kun whispered.
"That is a thing we can't stop," Luce-san admitted sadly. "It's out of our hands..."
"..."
Right, the slave system is still a legal reality here. And if the parents decided to do it, I had no right to interfere. But I remembered what the Guild Master, Jan-san, had told me about that.
"That is nothing to worry about," I informed them, giving them my best confident look. "You don't need to be concerned about that."
Their eyes went wide, like two surprised kittens, and they clung to my words.
"W-why? Do you have a way to stop it if the parents try to sell them?" Gil-kun pressed.
I shook my head gently.
"No, but Jan-san told me something about this..." I recalled.
—Flashback to a Conversation—
It was in the Guild Master's room. I had voiced my concerns, and Jan-san had put his feet up on the desk.
"Sure, if a parent decides to sell, we don't have the right or the authority to stop them. But selling a kid into slavery is the absolute last resort, eh? It's only when they're facing starvation or total ruin. It's a bitter choice for a parent."
"Then the condition for not selling them is simple: they have to be fed. Better than they are now."
"B-but that's exactly the problem, isn't it?" I retorted.
The Guild Master let out a deep, tired sigh that sounded like the collapse of a small building.
"...Are you being serious with me right now? In this town? If you check your kid into the orphanage as a worker for the Foot-Stomping Dance, they get meat and fish to eat! And even if they don't, the public bath is free. Most of the facilities have clean, flush toilets. Even a low-ranking noble in the Royal Capital couldn't afford a life like that! Buying a slave to live better than that? The buyer would run a loss!"
—End of Flashback—
"...That's what he told me," I concluded.
The two teenagers looked from me to each other, a mix of acceptance and stunned bewilderment on their faces.
"A-ah... I guess that makes sense," Gil-kun muttered. "I've heard that even the adventurers passing through here will go out of their way to make this town their base, or at least a stopover."
"I know!" Luce-san admitted, holding her hand to her stomach. "I think I've eaten about ten times the amount of meat and fish I had in my entire life, just since you got here, Shin-san!"
It wasn't an exaggeration or a metaphor; it was the simple, honest truth. Cheap, delicious food, plus the bath—these things attract people in any world, in any era.
And then there was the exotic massage. You try it once, and you're hooked, just like Carman-san.
Their worries had visibly drained away. The tension had left their faces.
"Alright, you two," I instructed. "Go check on the other three. They might be struggling with the traps. You two are the 'seniors' here, after all."
"Ah, okay!"
"Got it, let's go!"
They ran off immediately.
"..."
I waited until their backs were completely out of sight before I muttered a private thought.
Jan-san hadn't been lying, but I had left something out. There was a little postscript to his economic theory, a dark edge to his certainty.
—Flashback Postscript—
"...Even a low-ranking noble in the Royal Capital couldn't afford a life like that. Buying a slave to live better than that? The buyer would run a loss."
"But, because of all that... a desperate parent might resort to a more forceful, more illegal method to make the deal."
"When that happens, I'll be counting on you, Giant-Boar Killer!"
—End of Flashback Postscript—
"Well," I sighed to the empty air, "I suppose it's better if that never happens at all."
Summary:
The Mayonnaise Bubble swells, causing a weird economic crisis where a luxury item is a source of cheap food for the poor. Shin secures a vital trade deal with Carman, lowering the price of mayo for crucial ingredients (oil/vinegar). Immediately after, the town Apothecary, Pack, asks for the special Patient Food (a nutritious egg-gruel) for a sick child, confirming the high survival stakes for children in this magic-infused world.
This leads to the urgent planning of a resource Expedition to gather both herbs and dwindling wild meat/fish, bringing new, struggling adventurers into the fold. The Guild Master's dark wisdom reveals that the town's high standard of living is the only thing protecting the orphans from illegal, desperate slave sales by their own parents, setting up a potential future conflict for the Giant-Boar Killer.
Character Insight:
Shin is fundamentally kind, using his modern knowledge to create an economic safety net, even if he's constantly flustered by the absurd consequences of his own success. Carman is utterly spoiled by luxury, his anxiety now tied more to the loss of a good foot massage than to gold pieces. Pack's transformation from a worried professional to a manic herb-hunter highlights the desperate edge of his profession. The Guild Master, Jan, is the calculated pragmatist, using cold economic logic to ensure the survival of the most vulnerable.
Behind the Scene:
The episode juxtaposes high-fantasy titles and settings ('Giant-Boar Killer,' Count's Mansion) with extremely mundane, modern problems: supply chain management (oil, vinegar), resource depletion, and the economics of public hygiene (flush toilets, free baths). The underlying tension is that Shin's improvements have not removed the fundamental cruelty of the world (slavery, class), but have merely forced the dark elements to find new, more violent loopholes to exploit.
Notes:
• Claire - The sharp-witted owner of the inn 'Clan,' which was previously famous for its private bath. She is a powerful water-magic user.
• Shin - An average, middle-aged Japanese salaryman who prides himself on his common sense and average abilities. He was forcibly sent to a fantasy world by a God and granted the 'ability' to prevent anything 'outside his common sense' from occurring in his presence.
• Carman - The Count's official merchant in the town. A professional, elderly man who quickly recognized the unexpected value of Shin's processed fish.
• Pack - The town's sole medical practitioner, he possesses extensive knowledge of traditional remedies and immediately recognized the superior nutritional value of Shin's egg-based 'patient food.' With long hair often mistaken for a woman from a distance, he has a slender build and favors practical, no-nonsense clothing suited for foraging and medicine preparation.
• Jan - The sturdy branch manager of the local Adventurer's Guild. He is short, has muscular build, and gray hair.
• Luce - A Bronze-class adventurer, also an orphanage graduate and very close friend of Gil. She specializes in Fire Magic, but can only 'manifest' flames without projection. She has flaxen hair tied in a braid at the back, short stature.
• Gil - A Bronze-class adventurer and recent graduate of the local orphanage. He specializes in Earth Magic (Stone Bullet), but its initial power is weak. He and Luce are close, almost like siblings. He has short hair, slender build, and looks unhealthy.
• Nico - Young, small orphan girl, initially tear-stained, wearing simple clothes, later a Shinto-style priest outfit. Abducted with Pop, her fear manifests as exhaustion and silence, eventually clinging to her caretaker.
• Mel - A young girl Shin hires for her Water Magic to clean his catch. She has semi-long hair, and slightly foxy, sharp eyes.
• Milia - The young receptionist at the Adventurer's Guild. She has short hair, tanuki-face like (cute), wears round glasses, and business attire.
• Raid - A young, 'normie' adventurer who gets saddled with the job of escorting Shin. He is carefree and friendly but is instantly put on edge by Jandou's ominous warning. He has short black hair, sun-tanned skin, and wears casual adventure gear.