Chapter 9

WHIIIIIRRRRRRRR!

Slice, slice, slice.

CRASH!

“Everyone, stand back! I can handle the logging by myself!”

“But sir, how can we simply live off your charity? We will help!”

I used to think that operating a chainsaw was incredibly hard work.

Screeeech. Creeak. Scraaaaaape.

“…It’s fine.”

That sentiment vanished the moment I saw several grown men, sweating profusely, struggling to handle a single manual saw. Compared to that, this was like slicing through butter with a dinner knife. I seem to recall seeing something on the internet once, that a normal kitchen knife from the modern era would be treated as a legendary sword if taken to the past.

If so, how vast must the gulf be between that half-rusted, dull saw and this 18-inch chainsaw in my hands? The thought of trying to do this job with their axes and saws was too horrifying to contemplate. I bet I could probably even cut through a knight’s armor from this era with this chainsaw. (No, you can’t.)

“…The chainsaw truly is made by Xyang.”

…Thank you, Xyang Electronics. And thank you to the village headman who sold me this used chainsaw for an even 100,000 won. I will graciously forget all about that 1,000,000 won I donated to the village development fund.

…On second thought, I can’t forget it.

That son of a bitch.

Anyway, after shooing the settlers away and finishing the last of the clearing work on a 1,000-pyeong patch of forest by myself, the sun was high in the sky. Several days of labor had finally come to an end.

I wiped the sweat from my brow and set the chainsaw down.

“This area must be about three roods[1]! It will be more than enough for us to farm!”

“…Indeed, Eleanor.”

Seeing as I was a man who used units like ‘1 pyeong = 3.3 square meters,’ I decided it was best to just keep my mouth shut when it came to matters of area.

“Next, are you going to bring… ‘that thing,’ like you did last time?”

“…Yes.”

I nodded.

RUMBLE, RUMBLE, RUMBLE!

Soon, I brought over the 10-ton excavator and proceeded to rip out all the remaining tree roots!

“Wooooooah!”

“That mechanical arm is so strong!”

Haha, hahaha! The feeling of omnipotence was no joke! The adults stared with their mouths agape while the children jumped up and down with excitement, giving me an incredible sense of superiority.

Now, you might be wondering how I could operate an excavator over 3 tons, which requires a certified license and an operator’s permit. You might ask when a guy in his mid-twenties could have possibly gotten one.

I didn’t!

Mr. Choi from next door did! This excavator was one he had borrowed in the first place! He had brought it over to clear some trees on his hill, forgot about it, and it ended up getting transported to this world along with me! I knew how to operate a small excavator, so after a few tries, I found that this one moved in a similar way. Of course, it broke down a few times during my practice… and I did spend several sleepless weeks practicing… but, well. It regenerates.

Is that a problem? Well, where is the Korean Ministry of Land, Infrastructure, and Transport to regulate me? Where are the Korean police to arrest me for driving without a license?

Nothing can bind me. I am free!

This is America!

CRUUUNCH! RUMBLE!

“Waaaaaaaah!”

Hah, this truly is America. A free and exhilarating maneuver, befitting the land of the free. And just like that, 1,000 pyeong of forest was transformed into land ready for plowing and building huts.

The people immediately grabbed their shovels and potato sacks and swarmed the new field to plant potatoes according to the method I had taught them.

The settlement had grown quite large now. Where before ten people had been crammed into a single house, now each family could have a home of its own. Everyone was full of motivation, already talking about building a church and workshops. With enough arable land secured to feed everyone, their worries about food lessened.

“…Even so, I can’t be complacent.”

These settlers were people who had never seen a potato before in their lives. It would be stranger if they succeeded on their first try after just one simple farming lesson. That’s why I was planning to create a separate 500-pyeong potato patch on the empty land within my own farm.

The question of whether it would require a lot of labor was dismissed before it could even be raised.

Because behind me stood the agricultural technology and mechanical engineering of the 21st century.

It was called a cultivator.² You can think of it as a miniaturized, walk-behind tractor. It does everything a full-sized tractor can do.

Whirrrrrr!

For example, like right now, it can instantly plow a field, create ridges, and simultaneously lay down plastic mulching. Hours of labor that would require squatting on the ground are completed in an instant. This is the secret behind those black plastic sheets you see covering fields in the countryside. The plastic retains moisture to keep the soil from drying out, suppresses weeds, and prevents soil erosion.

Thump! Thump! Thump! Thump!

Using a handheld planter, I punch holes in the plastic sheeting. The tool digs into the ground, creating a hole precisely between ten to fifteen centimeters deep, the perfect depth for planting potatoes. I drop a cut seed potato into the planter, cover it with soil, and just like that, the planting is finished.

…If I had to do this with just a hand-hoe and a shovel, it would have taken hours, maybe even days.

What is 21st-century agricultural technology, really? It looks simple on the surface, but it’s built on a foundation of countless small advancements, a foundation that took hundreds, even thousands of years to build. Synthetic fertilizers, herbicides, all sorts of farming equipment…

‘It would be amazing if I could replicate this stuff.’

Of course, replication is impossible. The best I can do is make life more comfortable for myself and the thirty-three people gathered around me. But what about dismantling and studying them later? Maybe I could adapt them to be powered by animal or human labor, leaving out the parts that are impossible to recreate in this era, like the engine…

Now that would be amazing.

It felt like a monumental idea, so I immediately jotted it down in my notebook. Yes. Later, when the settlement gets bigger…

‘…When it gets bigger?’

When it gets bigger, what should I do?

In the original history, the Roanoke colony failed. The famous Jamestown and Plymouth settlements became the starting points of early American colonial history. But in 1590, about two years from now, when I run into John White returning from England, the story changes.

This place becomes the British Empire’s first permanent colony in North America.

And I become its founder.

“…”

Then what?

Can I survive? How will I explain my resources, and how can I maintain ownership of all this? And after all that… what happens to me?

“Nemo!”

“…Ah, Eleanor.”

Let’s put these complicated thoughts aside for now. The English colonists wouldn’t want to create conflict with me either. Thankfully, this era is primitive enough that there are no scientists who will try to dissect me, and no one who can dig up my farm to uncover its secrets. Frankly, whether I tell them I’m the last resident of the sunken city of Atlantis or an alien from the moon, they would have no choice but to believe me.

And if my lies are exposed? By then, I’ll have lived a full life being treated like royalty by the British Empire, so what would it matter?

-‘Immortal, will you become a pioneer of the New World under a blessing of infinity? Or will you become a slave to fate?’

Well, if, if, I really do turn out to be an immortal, then that might be a different story…

…Ah, well. The me of the future will figure it out.

“Eleanor, what is it?”

My concern right now is our immediate food supply. The food from hunting, gathering, and the small vegetable patch is not quite enough to last until the potato harvest. I’d probably have to slaughter a few chickens, but considering the eggs they’ll lay, it feels like a waste…

“The Savage tribes…”

“‘Native’.”

“Ah, I’m sorry. The Native tribes have come to visit.”

“They have?”

“They said they’ve come to offer a gift of thanks for the grapes. Should I let them in?”

“…”

I glanced toward the main gate. I could faintly see a dozen or so people, carrying something on their backs, loitering about. Most were not wearing clothes, instead expressing their status and identity through complex tattoos drawn on their bodies.

Should I let them in? Is it wise to show them my resources and capabilities as they are… no. They wouldn’t understand what they were seeing anyway.

“Let them in. This was originally their land, after all.”

“Understood! I will let them in!”

Eleanor, her face smudged with dirt, looked like an official diplomat. She quickly checked her reflection in a nearby puddle and straightened her hair. Then, with an exaggeratedly aristocratic gait, she walked over and opened the gate. I turned off the cultivator and followed her.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

She tapped her fingers on the steel fence, and the natives, who had been nervously looking around, turned their gazes toward us. A man dressed much like a European stepped forward as their representative. It was this man that Eleanor addressed.

“…’He’ has granted you permission to enter the domain.”

“Eleanor, why are you waddling so strangely? Your voice is lower than usual, too…”

“Ah, hahaha…”

“So, where is ‘He’? His name is…”

“Nemo.”

“…”

“Welcome. You must be Manteo. I heard you brought a gift. Please, come inside.”

“…”

I paused for a moment, noticing Manteo’s expression inexplicably stiffen. What? Did I make a mistake? I had only greeted him and offered a handshake. It was only after a long moment of thought that I realized.

“…You are remarkably fluent in our language. What tribe are you from?”

Ah.

I wasn’t speaking English just now.

It seemed my language cheat wasn’t limited to just English.

***

“So, where is ‘He’? His name is…”

“Nemo.”

“…”

“Welcome. You must be Manteo. I heard you brought a gift. Please, come inside.”

“…”

In that short exchange, Manteo was surprised twice.

He had seen it with his own eyes. London. He had seen the wealth and power of England. And he had seen it for a full year. The English built structures as vast as mountain ranges and crafted clocks that ticked away, sensing the briefest of moments. They wove stained glass that shattered light into rainbows and assembled ships that could carry over a hundred strong men across the great ocean.

He had seen queens and nobles wrapped in uncomfortable clothes adorned with gold, silver, and all manner of brilliant jewels. He had seen muskets that could kill not just men but ferocious beasts in a single shot. He had seen cannons that could throw massive boulders.

That pure splendor, that sheer power!

That power had always come from strangely different people, with their high-bridged noses, pale faces, and deep-set eyes. Admiring that power, Manteo had dressed like them. Admiring that power, Manteo had accepted their baptism.

-“So, where is ‘He’? His name is…”

-“Nemo.”

But the man standing before him… looked more like his own people than those Europeans. Manteo could easily read the awe in Eleanor’s eyes. He could also see the enormous house and farm stretching out behind her. All of this was built in just one or two weeks…?

That was when Manteo was first surprised.

And the second time.

-“Welcome. You must be Manteo. I heard you brought a gift. Please, come inside.”

He was too ‘fluent’ in Algonquian.

And so… Manteo had no choice but to ask.

“…What tribe are you from?”

At his question, the man’s atmosphere suddenly changed. He looked up at the sky with a strangely distant gaze and spoke in a whisper.

“…From a place you can never reach. In the far, far East, or perhaps the West. A place where the traces of all spirits have vanished. A place to which I can never return.”

“…”

“Ah… I was lost in thoughts of my homeland for a moment. My apologies.”

“N-no, not at all.”

In the moment he spoke of his home, the man seemed incredibly noble. The clothes he wore were strange but sturdy and appeared to have been made with great care. The sword at his hip looked heavy and strong. Above all, the man spoke both English and Algonquian fluently. He also seemed very accustomed to commanding people.

He was either a very high-ranking person…

“…Or a god.”

“What did you say just now?”

“Ah, nothing.”

As Manteo stepped inside, the iron gate slid shut behind him. He had no idea what the thing with the giant arm, stopped in the distance, was used for. A weapon?

As he stood there tensely, a fellow tribesman nudged him in the ribs. Ah, in his nervousness, he had forgotten to state his purpose.

“Ah, ahem, we have come to repay the kindness you showed us before.”

“Repay me? There is no need for that.”

“No, we must insist. Such food must be precious.”

“…”

Manteo saw the man’s face briefly harden before relaxing again. Why? Manteo did not know that the vast farm stretching out behind the man was filled with that very same ‘precious thing.’

“Ahem, in any case, to repay you, our tribe has brought a gift of welcome. We only hope this land pleases you.”

As Manteo finished speaking, the tribesmen behind him set down the loads they were carrying. They were sacks of corn, peas, and various fruits.

“It is not much, but we hope you will accept our sincerity…”

“It is not lacking in the least!”

The man’s voice suddenly rose. His face also brightened noticeably.

“Now I won’t have to slaughter the chickens… I mean, never mind.”

“…”

“However, this seems a bit much for the price of a few grapes.”

“Actually… I have a favor to ask.”

It was a difficult request, so Manteo hesitated for a moment. He bowed his head respectfully and asked the man before him.

“Is it possible… for you to give us more of those precious grapes…”

“Of course!”

“…Pardon?”

Again. No, this time the man’s voice was even higher, his face even brighter. He couldn’t figure out why…

“Uh…”

“Come and visit more often! Let us trade like this once a week, Manteo!”

“Th-thank you… but… I haven’t even told you how much we would like to take…”

“Take as much as you want! As much as you want!”

“Then… we will take 100 bunches. We must share them with our related tribes nearby.”

“Of course! You may take 200, even 300 bunches!”

Three hundred bunches! Of those sweet grapes?

The moment he heard those words, Manteo was certain that he was the victor of this trade negotiation. If he had known what the other party was thinking, he would have been greatly dismayed.

***

Finally.

I finally have a buyer for these 10,000 goddamn bunches of grapes.

***

And so, thirteen weeks after the grape trade began…

As Manteo received 500 bunches of grapes, he realized something was wrong.