Chapter 20
“No, no… How did you dig up this much in such a short time, Hero? Really, really…”
Beth spoke in astonishment. It wasn’t just pure admiration—her tone carried a trace of bewilderment too.
Her face looked like she had plenty to say but was holding it back.
“Ah, it’s thanks to these clothes. They’ve got magic that boosts gathering speed.”
I laughed awkwardly, scratching my cheek.
It wasn’t a lie. This work outfit doubled the speed of gathering—an absolutely amazing item.
“Oh my, you mean this plain-looking work outfit has such powerful magic on it?”
She reached out hesitantly and touched my sleeve, as if she couldn’t resist trying it once she heard it was precious.
“Well, anyway… We don’t really need this much for dinner. But since we do need some side dishes, I’ll have to make pickled onions or something.”
Beth sighed at the mountain of onions.
Her words made me feel a little guilty, as though I’d just created extra work for her.
“Uh, by any chance… is there anything else you need from the garden? Lunch was so delicious that I’ve still got leftover energy, so I thought I might work a bit more before going to bed.”
The truth was, I still had about six hours left on the lunch buff. My general gathering skill wasn’t maxed at 5 yet either, so I needed to keep working the fields before sleeping.
“Hmm, then could you pull up some radishes? I’ll pickle them together with the onions.”
That was her answer to my careful question.
“Yes! Radishes! I’ll pull them right up!”
I clenched my fist with fiery determination.
“But, um… shouldn’t you wash up before dinner? You’re covered in dirt.”
Beth looked me over and said this.
It seemed she was speaking more casually with me lately. She didn’t even call me “Hero” anymore.
Of course, I preferred her speaking comfortably to me, so I had no complaints.
I looked down at myself.
Rolling around in the field had left me filthy, and on top of that, I’d sweated quite a bit—I might even smell.
Still, washing now would be inefficient. I needed to use the remaining buff time to raise my gathering skill as much as possible.
“Uh, I’ll just wash my hands and face for now. I’ll keep dinner light and head back out to the field! Bread and milk is fine for me.”
“Uh, oh… alright.”
She nodded, though I could tell she was inwardly wondering, Why go that far?
Her gaze was sharp, but I pretended not to notice. I washed my hands and face, then had the bread and milk she set out.
Hm, so bread and milk give a stamina and mana recovery buff.
The funny part was, since the milk came from the cow I’d milked, I also got the meal effect bonus. It helped with sleep and eased fatigue.
Strangely enough, it was a realistic touch.
After all, I sometimes drank warm milk before bed back in the real world too.
The milk was incredibly rich and delicious—far creamier than the milk I knew. Was it because of the cow breed, or simply because it was fresh?
I noted the bread and milk effects in my journal, then returned to the field.
Even in the dark, I kept harvesting onions and radishes. Fortunately, there were lampposts nearby, and the dorm building’s faint light made it workable.
“Hm, there’s a halo around the moon.”
When I glanced up, a faint glowing ring circled the moon.
I remembered that in old folklore, a halo around the moon meant rain was coming.
If that were true, it might rain tomorrow.
By the time I dusted the soil off my hands, it was close to midnight.
Looking at the dorm building, most lights were out. But the light in my third-floor room was still on—seemed my roommate, Lena, was awake.
And then—I noticed a silhouette at the window.
…Lena?
Surely she hadn’t been secretly watching me toil in the fields, right?
I finished tidying up and stretched. I’d just pulled up a giant radish and finally raised my general gathering to level 5.
When I returned to my dorm—
Hm, the light’s already out.
Lena must have gone to her room. Only a small lamp in the dark living room remained on.
…No, don’t overthink it.
Cracking my stiff neck, I headed to the bathroom to wash up. Time to scrub off the dirt and sweat and finally sleep.
The Next Day.
“Oh, it really is raining…”
So the moon-halo forecast was surprisingly accurate.
“Damn, this ruins my plans…!”
I had intended to spend the day on combat, gathering, and crafting. But with rain pouring down, that was impossible.
In a game, rain never stopped me from grinding. After all, it was the character who got wet, not me.
The character’s clothes didn’t get drenched, their body temperature didn’t drop, and they didn’t catch colds.
But here, it was different. If I went out, I’d get soaked to the bone.
And I don’t even have an umbrella.
Not that an umbrella would help much—I couldn’t exactly chop wood with an axe while holding one.
“Well then, I’ll just spend the day helping the head cook in the kitchen.”
I changed out of my gathering outfit and into casual clothes.
Even though parts were still torn from that explosion incident, the fabric was soft, dry, and carried a pleasant scent despite the damp weather.
“Head cook!”
“Oh, dear! You’re here early today. Here for breakfast? Sorry, it’s not ready yet.”
“No, no! I came to help with cooking again. You said you’d be making pickles, right? Let me help.”
I grinned as I walked into the kitchen, grabbing an extra apron without asking.
“Tsk, you don’t need to help, really.”
She said that, but her pleased expression gave her away.
“So, have you cooked much at home? Young folks these days rarely help with housework, you know. Everyone’s too busy with their own lives, leaving everything to their mothers.”
Her question left me speechless.
“Ha, haha… I’m the same.”
Her words pierced my conscience. She was right.
Back home, my chores barely went beyond doing the dishes or vacuuming now and then.
Cooking? Not really. I didn’t even know how to rinse rice properly, much less cook a meal.
At most, I could boil instant noodles. And even then, my brother made them way better than me, so I usually just ate the ramen he cooked until he moved out.
Mostly, I survived on store-bought side dishes my overworked mom had stocked up, or food from outside.
The only real cooking I’d done was during school’s home economics class.
And yet here I was, in another world, saying I’d learn to cook after dying. Truly, I was opening a new frontier of unfilial disgrace. A next-level ungrateful daughter.
“In that case, learn properly from me, and when you go back home, cook for your parents.”
“……”
Her words darkened my face.
I couldn’t go back. I’d died in the real world, and this was another dimension.
There was no way my family existed here.
“Oh dear, did I say something wrong? Sorry, sorry.”
Even though I said nothing, Beth seemed to read something from my expression. She patted my back gently with a sympathetic look.
She probably thought my parents had passed away.
In truth, it was me who had died. But either way, I would never see them again.
I didn’t correct her misunderstanding.
“So, what should I do first?”
I forced a bright smile, rolling up my sleeves to lighten the mood.
“Alright then, I’ll work you hard!”
Beth chuckled and pulled me along.
And there—
Why is this here?
A giant basin for kimchi-making.
The dark-brown rubber tub was filled to the brim with onions.
This was Korea. I could feel Korea’s presence even in this faraway world.
“Okay, let’s start peeling onions.”
The onions were piled up in a mountain, still coated in red skin and dirt.
Grinding away at repetitive tasks like this was what gamers jokingly called “grinding.”
But this—this was the true grind.
“Well then, I’ll leave it to you!”
Beth left me and went about her own work.
Tears welled in my eyes as I sat down on a short wooden stool that looked suspiciously like a bathhouse chair.
…At least this should raise my cooking skill, right?
I still needed 15 more Rainbow Stones for my name-change fee. Reminding myself of that, I began peeling.
But no matter how many layers I peeled, the pile of onions never seemed to shrink.
Who on earth harvested this many onions?
…Right. Me.
I couldn’t blame anyone else.
I’d plowed through the field like a runaway bulldozer, desperate not to waste my buff. And now karma had come back.
I’d seen plenty of movies and shows where people cried while peeling onions.
Now I was living it.
Sniffle, sniffle.
No, these weren’t tears for my mom.
They were purely the fault of the onions.
Or so I told myself as the tears fell.
