The silence passed over my deeply bowed head for a while. I was afraid to raise my face. If words to chase me away were about to fall, I wanted to hear them as late as possible.
“…You are a face I don’t see around here.”
When I raised my head, that woman who looked like a mother was looking at me. There was caution in her voice, with no intention of hiding it. If an unknown outsider suddenly stood at the edge of her farm, anyone would look at them that way.
“…Are you a traveler?”
I smiled vaguely and kept it to a small nod.
The woman still did not close the distance. She gently protected the child at her feet behind her with her arm, as the child tried to approach again.
However, she did not look like she was going to chase me away right away.
“Um. I got lost on my way while traveling.”
I carefully chose my words. Where did I come from? Who am I? I wanted to keep those things as vague as possible. If I told the honest truth like, “I was a fake hero summoned to another world and chased away by the king,” nobody would believe me, and it would only lead to trouble.
“A place to rest for a while, and… well, I thought if there is anything I can help with.”
“I will work,” I added, lowering my head again. I didn’t want to be thought of as coming here to beg. It seemed like that much pride was still left in me.
“Help, huh?”
The mother put her hand on her chin and thought about it. That brief moment felt strangely long.
“Wait a minute. I can’t decide this on my own.”
Saying that, she told the child something and walked toward the biggest house on the far side of the farm. Left behind, it was just me and the child.
“Hey, where did you come from? Is it far?”
“Ah… from pretty far away.”
“Huh… hey, will you play with me later?”
The topic changed rapidly. With an incomprehensible momentum, the child closed the distance on her own. This must be what they call being carefree. Being looked up at by round, innocent eyes, I felt the tension inside me loosen just a little bit.
Before long, the mother came back. Walking slowly behind her was a white-haired old man with a slightly bent back. A sunburnt face with deep wrinkles. He ran this village. He was probably the village chief or someone in a similar position.
When the old man reached in front of me, he rudely glared and inspected me from the top of my head to the tips of my worn-out shoes. These were not the eyes of someone looking at a person. They were the eyes of someone appraising livestock or cargo. His gaze suddenly stopped on what I was wearing.
—My school uniform. A strangely tailored outfit that no one in this world wears. Even though it was slightly dirtied from the journey, there was no hiding the unfamiliar design and the good quality of the fabric. That seemed to make the label of “a suspicious guy whose identity is completely unknown” stand out even more. For just a fraction of a second, the old man’s eyes narrowed over the fabric, as if measuring its value.
“An outsider?”
“Yes.”
“What do you want? If you’re a beggar, look elsewhere. As you can see, this is a poor village. We don’t have the luxury of giving charity to others.”
“No,” I hurriedly bowed my head. “Please let me work. Just give me food and a place to sleep… I’ll do anything.”
The old man let out a “hmph” and stayed silent for a while, looking over my thin arms and thin shoulders once more. He didn’t ask where I came from or why I drifted here. The only thing he asked was what I wanted. Honestly, it was convenient. I didn’t have to pry into my own background.
“Judging by the looks of it, you don’t look like you have much strength,” the old man said flatly. “You look like you don’t have the nerve to steal and run away either.”
I didn’t think it was rude. Rather, it was accurate. That same weakness of being dismissed as “unable to fight” at the castle was here barely sparing me from being turned away at the gates.
“Well, fine. It’s just about time I could use an extra pair of hands.”
This wasn’t kindness. It was just simple math.
“I’ll let you stay. But food is only for what you work for. If you become useless, you’ll be kicked out that same day. If you pull any strange tricks, consider that you won’t be able to stay in this village by the next morning. —If you’re fine with that.”
“…Yes. That’s more than enough.”
Not a single shred of trust was given to me. Even so, I could sleep under a roof starting tonight.
That evening, what was served to me in the corner of the dirt floor was a single bowl of watery soup with barely any ingredients and the crust of hardened bread. This wasn’t charity. If the hands I was supposed to use starting tomorrow died of starvation on the first day, it would leave a bad taste in their mouth—that level of bare minimum fuel.
Even so, the moment I sipped the very first bite, it slid down my throat, and warmth slowly settled at the bottom of my stomach—just because of that, the back of my nose stung sharply. Careful. I was about to cry.
…I am pathetic, even to myself. Nobody was kind to me, and nothing special happened. A warm thing just landed in my stomach. Those few days of biting into berries, watching out for animal leftovers, and shivering while curled up in the shade of a rock. Thinking about that, this bland bowl of soup soaked in—unbearably so.
I eagerly emptied the bowl. I didn’t ask for a second helping. I believed I understood well enough that I wasn’t in a position to ask.
Across the dirt floor, a few villagers were eating dinner around the fireplace. Every now and then, they glanced over at me. Nobody talked to me. —Naturally. There was no reason for anyone to say anything to a stray nobody who suddenly showed up today.
Only that child from earlier was looking at me with curious eyes from her mother’s lap. Seeing me lick the bowl clean as if trying to eat it, she giggled, wondering what was so funny. Her mother hushed her with a “shh.”
Starting the next morning, my days in the village began.
The tasks I was assigned were chores too humble to even be called jobs. Picking up stones from the farm, pulling weeds, and cleaning up livestock waste. I wasn’t handed any blades, and I wasn’t even allowed inside the houses.
The physical labor was honestly tough. After all, my physical strength and power were both 1. Even carrying a single bucket filled with water made me wobble, to the point where even the village children laughed at me for being unreliable. The adults in the village kept their distance from me for a while. Even when passing by, they didn’t make eye contact. Some people subtly checked the number of tools to see if I would steal anything. If I were in their position, I would do the exact same thing.
That’s why I just worked in silence. Without complaining, without running away, I got through what I was told day by day. I woke up to the sound of roosters in the morning and collapsed like mud into the straw in the barn at night. That was all I could do. And that was the only thing I could do even with a strength of 1.
At night, there was no wind. Just that made a difference. On the day I was finally able to properly wash away the mud and sweat stuck to me with stream water. I sniffed my own arm, where the sour smell had faded, and chuckled a little to myself.
Several days. No, maybe about ten days had passed. Finally, the direction of the wind changed just a little bit. Passing by me, with just a nod of his chin, someone bluntly gave me an errand: “Hey, carry that bucket over there.” Compared to when they treated me like I “didn’t exist,” just that much was a huge progress.
“He’s a weird guy, but well, he works hard.” The evaluations leaking to my ears were at most around that.
Still, that was enough. …I couldn’t help but smile. Back when I was lifted up as a hero or whatever in that grand hall. Who would have thought that in a remote village where hardly even beasts pass by, gathering livestock manure, I would feel so relieved by a single phrase like “well, he works hard”?
Still, it’s not bad. Not bad at all.
Night. When I stretched my exhausted body in my bed that smelled of straw, that glowing window would invariably float up behind my eyelids.
“Daily Reward”
“Today’s Gift—Experience Points +2”
…Today is 2. Yesterday was 1.
The numbers in my hand are moving at a turtle’s pace, as always. My level remains at 1, not moving an inch. Still, unlike farming, these numbers just pile up automatically as the days go by.
I clear the window and roll over. I gently place a hand on the egg inside my clothes.
—Huh?
The surface I touched with my fingertips felt a little different from this morning.
It was warm, as always. However, deep inside that warmth, something was tapping against the shell very faintly, tap, tap. I instinctively sat up. Was it my imagination? No—it definitely moved.
“…Hey. Could it be?”
There was no answer. There was no way there would be.
I couldn’t fall asleep easily that night.