Suteko Ni Narimashita 19

Unexpectedly, the slums felt comfortable.

When I awoke the following day, this realization washed over me. 

Was yesterday’s incident still affecting how I saw things?

The gentle rays of the morning sun warmed my face, instilling a sense of ease that had eluded me for so long. 

It’s a relief that nobody’s staring at me.

Although the streets were relatively empty, I blended into the background, going largely unnoticed. 

For the first time, I won’t be ridiculed for my clothes or appearance.

Life in the slums didn’t pose any challenges to me—This was my verdict.

***

“… So that’s the story. Any jobs for me?”

 I asked the shopkeeper of the Stone Shop. My smile was tinged with a mixture of hope and apprehension. 

Today, I resolved to earn a living.

The shopkeeper sighed audibly, a mixture of annoyance and disbelief on his face. 

“Really? You’re bothered because someone looked at you the wrong way?”

“Well, what else am I supposed to do?” I retorted, leaning casually against the edge of the counter.

If there were a way to avoid discrimination, I would gladly spend more time in the city.

Shopping had been an enjoyable experience; the act itself posed no problems. 

Yet, a nagging thought persisted: If I returned there, am I setting myself up for more discrimination? Or is it even discrimination at all? 

Perhaps it’s justified, I mused. 

If those from the slums are causing issues, isn’t it necessary to distinguish them from the rest? 

Despite this rationale, something didn’t sit right with me.

I never expected to be so bothered by this. I thought I could accept it and move on.

Unexpectedly, these feelings had taken root, making me reluctant to return to the city. 

Why can’t I understand my own emotions?

“Oh well, not that it concerns me.” 

The shopkeeper’s dissatisfied expression suggested otherwise. Perhaps to regain his poise, he looked away before fixing his gaze back on me. 

“As expected, carp is in high demand right now. Patients seeking its benefits have already started showing up. Consequently, the price has begun to rise.”

Carp, again? Should I go back to the same fishing spot?

The notion of increased demand put doubt in my mind. 

Is this really what I should be focusing on?

“By the way…” 

“What’s the matter?” 

I furrowed my eyebrows, causing the shopkeeper to halt his explanation. 

“Those healing fish. Aren’t they farmed or something?” 

“No one has attempted it,” the shopkeeper replied tersely. 

Why haven’t we established a more stable source for these fish? They’re preventative medicine for a disease that recurs annually, after all.

“Because fish farming requires land, only wealthy individuals can undertake such ventures. Occasionally, they lease their land to companies,” he added.

“So fish farming is technically feasible?”

“Yes, but those with money usually prioritize high-class fish,” he responded.

“But wouldn’t you consider the healing fish to be high-class?” I questioned, recalling that he’d paid me a silver coin for one. 

I wonder what the market price is.

“By ‘high-class,’ I’m not referring to something that enriches one’s life but rather serves as a status symbol.”

“Something that makes them feel superior?”

“Exactly. The focus is on appearance and traits. It’s a business targeting royalty and aristocrats,” he explained.

“But don’t royalty and aristocrats also need this medicinal fish?” 

Caught off-guard, the shopkeeper paused, closing one eye in contemplation. 

“Hmm. Oh, right. In case you didn’t know, the [Three-Days Fever] primarily affects the commoners.”

“So it’s a disease that targets a specific social class?” 

“How you phrase it makes it sound like social status determines susceptibility. More accurately, it’s influenced by one’s environment.”

“You mean areas where commoners live… Like the Twelfth District?”

“Exactly, mostly on the East side of the city. While the slums aren’t immune, the disease primarily spreads in the Sixth, Eleventh, and Twelfth Districts. Oh, and occasionally in the Fifth District, where many craftsmen’s workshops are located.”

“Why those specific districts? Could it be related to geography? Food? It’s not like the climate changes much, and the idea of different races within the same city is hard to fathom.”

The shopkeeper noticed my contemplative expression and continued.

 “…Which is why the higher-ups don’t care much about the [Three-Days Fever]. It scarcely affects them. And if they’re concerned, they can buy one of those proverbial fish, just as we did. Regarding fish farming, they’re interested only in high-class varieties.”

“Don’t the commoners, the primary victims, consider starting their fish farms?”

“Hmm, oh, there was an attempt, once upon a time.”

The shopkeeper’s gaze drifted towards the corner of the ceiling as if searching for a forgotten memory.

“So it has been tried before?”

“If memory serves, about twenty years ago, a group of commoners pooled their money to buy some land. They hired a fish farmer to breed the proverbial fish.”

“And what came of that venture?” I asked, tilting my head in curiosity. 

If such an effort had been made, why had it not persisted?

“Ah, yes… The endeavor failed tragically. It could’ve been the water quality or the type of food provided—regardless, all the fish perished quickly.”

“Oh, so it was a failure then,” I sighed.

“Unfortunately, yes. The equipment and pond maintenance was costly, so nobody has risked attempting it again.”

“Budget and personnel are crucial…, it seems.”

The proverbial fish were invaluable for the commoners, yet the complexities of farming them necessitated sizable investments in both equipment and expertise. It was a high-risk venture. 

Isn’t this precisely what the rulers should be focusing on?

“Well, whether it’s an old man like me or a young person like you, pondering this issue doesn’t solve it.”

“I guess you’re right.” 

It’s a bleak reality, indeed.

***

I arrived at the clear stream, my eyes immediately spotting the schools of thin, carp-like fish gliding through the water. 

Their movement was coordinated and graceful, each group containing several members. 

With practised ease, I killed them and drained their blood. 

I couldn’t help but notice how simple it was to catch these fish using essential fishing equipment.

Technically, any average person could do it—reach the spot on foot, fish for a day, and return home. 

But then, why doesn’t everyone come here?

The answer was as clear as the threat that loomed nearby: monsters. 

Those without the means to defend themselves wouldn’t dare venture into these parts. 

As I packed the fish in a bag filled with ice, a chill crept up my spine, reaching into the recesses of my head. 

***

I returned to the Stone Shop to cash in my catch. 

“Five of them, and they’re in excellent condition too… ” 

The shopkeeper remarked, patting the belly of each fish to assess its quality.

This part always puts me on edge.

“A silver coin and a half for each. That makes seven and a half silver coins in total.”

The shopkeeper stacked a small mountain of coins on the counter.

It’s time to reduce this pile.

“I’d like to exchange these, please,” I said, adding 25 more silver coins to the stack. 

I wanted to trade them in for a single gold coin.

“Of course,” the shopkeeper agreed, meticulously counting the coins before stashing them in the safe. 

He then produced a gold coin and laid it on the counter. 

“The exchange fee will be one iron coin.”

After paying the iron coin fee, I traded my stack of silver coins for the lone gold coin. 

Despite its modest 2 cm diameter, it felt surprisingly weighty in my hand.

“Be cautious with that gold coin; it’s conspicuous. Don’t flaunt it in public.”

“I’ll be careful,” I assured him.

Having a gold coin could make me a target. Best to keep it well hidden.

***

Back at home, I lay down on my bed, staring intently at the gold coin resting in my palm. 

The sparkle of its flawless surface resulted from my sweat and labor.

It’s so satisfying.

Suddenly, a grin spread across my face. Panicked, I covered my mouth.

Is this what gold does to you?

For a brief moment, I felt I could empathize with those consumed by the lust for wealth. 

Carefully, I tucked the gold coin into a hidden compartment at the bottom of the waist bag I always wore.

If I could help it, I’d prefer not to spend this coin. It was my insurance, a financial cushion.

I only have a few silver coins today, but my assets have grown.

Elated by my newly acquired gold coin, I continued to sprawl on the floor, basking in the warm glow of the fading sun. 

But as I reveled in my happiness, an uninvited guest shattered the moment.

It slipped in through the window. 

My room was steeped in darkness, devoid of any lamps. 

I had never found them necessary, as my magic allowed me to see in the dark. 

Perhaps this absence of light had kept intruders at bay—until tonight.

What could it possibly want here? There’s neither light nor water.

As the intruder clumsily rummaged through my belongings, searching for food, an unpleasant noise followed in its wake.

In this room, I’m the only one allowed to touch my food!

Quietly, I edged closer to the intruder.

Under the cover of night, it came to feast on my blood. 

It was a mosquito. 

Usually, when outdoors, I’d swat at it or do my best to ward it off. 

But tonight, buoyed by the thrill of my newfound wealth, I felt unusually generous.

What’s a little blood in the grand scheme of things?

With that thought, I permitted the mosquito to land on my arm and indulge itself. 

After it had its fill, the insect buzzed away, vanishing into the night air.

So, I’ve just tolerated a mosquito, all thanks to my good mood. 

The influence of money is indeed powerful.