“So you're saying that if we can't come up with five seok of rice within three months, Father will be drafted into corvée labor?”
“Yeah.”
“And this year's labor assignment is repairing the walls of Jin Fortress?”
“That's what I said.”
Forced labor in the middle of winter.
And repairing fortress walls, no less!
At So Yeonsu's words, So Yeonhui's face instantly turned pale.
In this era, it was common for people who couldn't pay their taxes and had to serve labor instead to return home as corpses—or to come back missing arms or legs.
Winter fortress repairs were especially notorious even among labor assignments.
Workers dug frozen ground, carried massive stones, and toiled in freezing winds. Countless people froze to death or were crushed beneath rocks.
No matter how strong and well-trained her father was, there could be no guarantee of his safety.
A shadow crossed Yeonhui's face as she asked,
“You said this came from Village Chief Wang's grandson, right? What about Mother and Grandmother? Do they know?”
“Grandmother doesn't. I told Father and Mother first, and Father said we weren't allowed to tell anyone else.”
Yeonsu sniffled miserably.
Father must have already decided to go perform labor instead of paying the tax.
The tax had to be paid, and there was no money.
He couldn't send his wife or daughters, so as head of the household he intended to shoulder the burden himself.
And in the middle of all that, his eldest daughter had carelessly poisoned herself with mushrooms.
Just imagining how distressed he must have been made Yeonhui bite her lip.
But this isn't something that can be solved by Father sacrificing himself alone.
The So family was already a household of disgraced exiles.
If ordinary commoners often died during labor service, what would happen to criminals?
Someone might even use the opportunity to get rid of her father.
No matter what, we have to avoid forced labor.
But how?
How could they possibly gather five seok of rice in only two and a half months?
Calm down. Think carefully about what I have and what I can do.
Though she had arrived in this ancient world penniless, she possessed three extraordinary treasures:
Jijang Mall.
Good Deed Points.
Modern knowledge.
With cheats like those, surely she wouldn't fail.
Yeonhui's mind began racing.
“Farming is impossible, right?”
“Probably. There's only a little over two months left.”
That eliminated agricultural plans involving high-yield crops.
Not that they could afford seeds right now anyway.
And if they needed to make money quickly...
“A snack business would be perfect.”
“A snack business?”
“Yeah. For a low-capital startup, nothing beats it. People buy food repeatedly because it disappears after they eat it.”
The problem was deciding what snack to make.
Just then, her eyes landed on the hawthorn berries they had gathered from the mountains.
“Ah, right. We have those.”
If she used hawthorn berries, material costs would be almost nonexistent.
The mountains were full of them.
As long as she worked hard enough, she'd never run out of ingredients.
Unfortunately, her siblings looked unconvinced.
“What are you planning to make with hawthorn berries?”
“Yeah. They're way too sour to eat.”
But Yeonhui answered confidently.
“Don't worry. I can turn those into something absolutely delicious.”
“Really?”
“Yep. Just wait. Once people try them, they'll be begging for more.”
Hugging the basket of berries, she grinned.
Her dark eyes shone with hope.
The next morning.
Before sunrise, Yeonhui slipped out of bed.
The snack she planned to make—tanghulu—required very little money but an enormous amount of labor.
There’s a reason it practically runs on underpaid part-time workers back home.
Preparing the fruit.
Skewering it.
Coating it with sugar syrup and letting it harden.
Every step required work.
And this wasn't modern Korea.
There were no factories producing bamboo skewers.
She'd have to make those herself.
Well, I'll just cut some bamboo and sharpen it like pencils.
Still half asleep, she stepped outside.
And immediately met someone's gaze.
Her father.
Alone in the courtyard, surrounded by morning mist.
Why is Father awake at this hour?
She froze.
Then noticed a bamboo ladle and several pairs of chopsticks lying beside him.
A closer look revealed a small carving knife and strips of bamboo in his hands.
“Why are you out so early?” he asked.
“I—I was going to make bamboo skewers.”
“Bamboo skewers?”
“Yes. I want to make snacks from the hawthorn berries we picked yesterday, so I need thin sticks to put the fruit on.”
For such a simple question, she felt absurdly nervous.
Before she knew it, she had explained everything.
Then she squeezed her eyes shut.
In the 21st century, selling snacks wasn't shameful.
But in ancient society, merchants were often looked down upon.
And no matter how far the So family had fallen, Yeonhui was still a daughter of the scholar-gentry class.
If people learned she was personally selling goods, her reputation would suffer.
Her grandmother and mother, who cared deeply about appearances, would probably faint.
Yet strangely, So Jin only raised an eyebrow.
Without commenting, he slowly shaved another strip of bamboo and asked,
“A snack business... Why did you suddenly decide on that?”
His tone didn't sound critical.
That gave Yeonhui a little courage.
“I want to earn a lot of money, but I don't think farming suits me. And I'm not talented enough to sell embroidery like Mother.”
Perhaps he thought it was merely a childish complaint.
A faint chuckle escaped him.
Then, smiling softly, he said,
“The fish soup was excellent.”
“I think I'm actually pretty talented at cooking.”
“Of course you are. Whose daughter do you think you are?”
He held up a finished bamboo skewer.
It looked much like a chopstick, except one end was sharpened to a point.
Exactly what she had needed.
“How about this? Will it work?”
“Perfect. I didn't know you were so skilled at this.”
“It's not skill. Just repetition.”
Though he spoke modestly, the corners of his mouth lifted slightly.
Outwardly he seemed stern, but he had always been especially gentle with his children.
Whether in the 21st century or this world, he was the same.
The reason the original Yeonhui remembered him as distant was probably because he spent his life on battlefields.
As a general with great military authority, he had constantly been stationed at dangerous frontiers.
The younger Yeonhui had never understood the burdens adults carried.
But that only made her more curious.
About the feelings hidden beneath the memories she'd inherited.
“Father... don't you resent me?”
The question slipped out.
So Jin frowned.
“What nonsense.”
His answer was immediate.
“How could I blame you for becoming entangled in political struggles because my military achievements grew too great?”
He warned her not to misunderstand.
Many loyal officials had lost everything in exactly the same way.
Then, in a slightly trembling voice, he added,
“So never again... make the mistake of eating poisonous mushrooms.”
His rough hand tightened around the carving knife until his knuckles turned white.
“Hundreds of thousands of enemies never frightened me as much as that. Do you know how terrified I was that something might happen to you?”
Faced with such gentle reproach, what could a guilty daughter possibly say?
She simply lowered her head.
After a long sigh, So Jin continued quietly,
“You survived by sheer luck. If I lost you because of some foolish rumors, how could I ever hold my head high again? I would also have no face before His Highness the Crown Prince, who helped us.”
“...What?”
“The teacher who gave you that wooden box.”
His eyes softened.
“Wasn't he Master Taebaek? Former Grand Tutor and the Crown Prince's teacher?”
...Oh.
Yeonhui silently set down the bamboo she had been carving.
It seemed there was more to the So family's downfall than she had realized.
