episode_0044

44. Brook

Chicken Coop.

Unlike simple livestock like pigs or cows that eat basic feed, chickens survive by pecking at bugs and scavenging.

To raise them strong and plump, you need to provide protein, carbohydrates, dietary fiber, calcium, and minerals.

And since they won’t even lay eggs if it’s too cold, you also have to carefully manage the temperature.

Raising a few can be done through free-range methods, but doing it on a large scale is a whole new level of hell.

Still, I’d already built a furnace to solve the temperature issue.

With the investment from Erica’s family funds, I’d prepared feed and even bought the initial flock.

But there was one lingering problem…

“Alright… Now we just need a little luck.”

“What’re you talking about?”

Brook had come along to inspect the chicken coop with me.

Her short frame moved nimbly as she skillfully ran her hands over the coop’s structure.

Built with wooden beams and clay, it was a sizable space constructed like a commoner’s home.

The earthen floor housed over forty chickens.

Technically, the coop was already complete.

But one major concern remained.

“An epidemic.”

“Hey, don’t say something so ominous!”

She shuddered at my words, rubbing her arms as if goosebumps had risen.

Even Brook, who usually behaved like a tough rogue, seemed terrified by the thought of a disease that could wipe out tens of thousands in one sweep.

Then, as if struck by a sudden thought, she poked my side repeatedly.

“Huh? You mean to tell me our dear genius here is gonna solve epidemics too?”

“What’ll you give me if I do?”

It wasn’t impossible.

If I had antibiotics, infections wouldn’t be a concern.

The problem was that I’d need to unlock microscope tech and cultivate mold, which would take time.

Even so, if I put in the effort to create antibiotics, I could tackle major medieval nightmares like the Black Death, typhus, leprosy, and pneumonia…

Smallpox, measles, and malaria would be trickier, but still manageable within my capabilities.

Of course, the best scenario would be if no outbreaks occurred at all.

Since countermeasures weren’t impossible, I teased Brook with the question. She paused to ponder.

If I really solved epidemics, what would she give me?

“Hmm… Fine, I’ll sleep with you for a night!”

“Huh?”

“You know what they say, right? Dwarf women are tight—once you go dwarf, you can’t go back—”

“Stop, stop…! Ugh, I shouldn’t have asked.”

Flustered, I cut her off, prompting her to snicker.

She’d obviously planned to mess with me, now jabbing my side playfully.

“Keke, why’re you acting like a shy virgin, punk?”

“Whatever…”

Leaving the overly playful Brook behind, I turned my attention back to the coop.

There were about forty chickens in total.

And to prepare for potential poultry epidemics, I’d divided the coop into five separate sections.

Even if disease wiped out one section, four others would remain intact.

I wasn’t a vet, and with no outbreaks yet, making chicken vaccines in advance was impossible.

I wasn’t frickin’ ChatGPT either…

“Anyway, this wraps up the chicken coop prep and epidemic measures!”

“Oh, done already? Good work.”

Brook patted my butt as if congratulating me.

Then, her hand lingered a little too long before she casually asked:

“So, does this mean all your work’s finished? Just gotta fix that damn piano and the factory now and then, right?”

“Yep, I’m free now!”

I’d grown used to Brook’s harassment, so I answered smoothly.

Or maybe it was because the joy of finishing all my tasks and finally being able to laze around—maybe even submit my resignation—overshadowed everything else.

Either way, I felt fantastic.

For the first time in ages, I even craved something delicious.

“Hey Brook, want me to cook for you?”

“What? You can cook too?”

“Did I never mention it?”

Had I really kept it to myself all this time?

Back when I was drowning in grad school under absurdly high tuition, my parents had supported me.

They used to run a famous restaurant that served Korean, Chinese, Japanese, and Western dishes.

Before the place got famous, labor was tight, so I started working there in middle school. I memorized all the recipes.

I couldn’t replicate my parents’ signature touch, but following recipes precisely was doable.

“Anyway, I gotta head into town for ingredients. Wanna come?”

“Eh, not like I’ve got anything better to do…”

She reluctantly agreed, skepticism dripping from her eyes.

“Why’re you looking at me like that? Cooking’s just about following recipes exactly.”

“Yeah… I’m sure it’ll taste better than roasted ogre nuts. But if it smells worse, I’m tossing it immediately.”

“Harsh.”

Could monsters even eat food?

Never having entered a dungeon, I wouldn’t know.

Ignoring her persistent doubts about my cooking, we headed to town, pulling a wagon hitched to a horse.

It’d been ages since I last visited Frezia’s market.

Unlike my nameless hometown, the gravel roads and Redmain-esque streets bustled with people.

Thanks to magic’s existence, women puffed on cigarettes while farming, and men carried laundry bundles on their heads.

I’d let Brook drive the wagon while I scribbled on a sheet of white paper.

Noticing me writing diligently from the passenger seat, she asked:

“What’re you writing now?”

“My resignation letter.”

She snorted at my response.

“Why keep writing them when no one’s gonna accept it anyway?”

“No clue why they won’t approve it.”

“…….”

Brook gave me a look, as if I were being deliberately obtuse.

“You’re a commoner with no magic—not even fit to be a grunt. The only thing you’ve got going is being decent at your job.”

“Just decent?”

“Even if it wasn’t you, someone else would’ve invented this stuff eventually.”

Annoyed, she thumped her chest while gripping the reins.

Honestly, yeah—other geniuses would’ve discovered these things eventually.

Just maybe 500 or 1000 years later.

Plus, with skilled folks like Brook and Eight around, there was a chance they’d let me go.

Even if not, writing resignations felt like buying lottery tickets—hoping against logic.

And tweaking the content was fun too.

“And with you guys here, maybe I can finally retire.”

Frustrated, she looked like she had a lot to say but swallowed it.

Then, grinding her teeth, she spoke firmly.

“If you leave, I’m leaving with you.”

“…Why?”

Her abrupt joint-resignation declaration stunned me—this was a serious disruption to my retirement plans.

Noticing my shock, she tugged the reins irritably.

Unlike her usual boisterous self, her voice was small and sulky.

“Sigh… You really think Erica would’ve taken in my sister and me if it weren’t for you?”

“Eh, you were commoners too—she’d have snapped you up given the chance.”

“…….”

She clamped her mouth shut, clearly unhappy with my answer.

After a pause, she blurted out:

“It wasn’t the Graces who took us in—it was you.”

“Well, yeah.”

“Don’t say it so lightly.

Back then, we were dwarves treated like humans—no, worse. Freak smiths who couldn’t even use magic.

But now? No one calls us that.

They say we’re the wings of a heaven-sent genius.”

Ugh… “Heaven-sent genius”? Cringe.

I’m no divine gift—that’s way too grandiose.

But Brook, unashamed, spoke as if confessing.

“I’m proud of that. My sister thinks so too…

I wanna stay with you forever. I wanna craft whatever you dream up.”

Wait, is this a confession?

The mood grew awkward, and Brook averted her eyes.

Trying to lighten things, she laughed gruffly and slapped my back like always.

“So don’t even think about ditching us, brat!

If you leave us behind, I’ll shove your head up your own ass.”

“…That’s terrifying.”

Playing along with the shifted mood, I laughed.

Women’s hearts are so hard to read…

Just then, a citizen suddenly spotted us—no, me—and shouted.

“It’s him—!! Lord Caillen!!”

“Ahh, the hero’s visiting our market!!”

Suddenly, people of all ages bowed toward our passing wagon.

What the hell is going on?