Another World Where I Can't Even Collapse and Die
“Sumire~! Didn’t think you’d be here, too. How’ve you been?”
“Ah, Tarina-san. Somehow, I’ve managed.”
It was Tarina-san, my senior with green pigtails, a cheerful and refreshing personality, and the inner strength to handle selfish adventurers day in and day out. She grew up in Tortea, though it seemed she came to Carcathia every year, and gave us loads of advice when we took the job.
“Let me introduce my friends: this is Sisi, a 3-star and shoemaker’s daughter; this is Rittel, the millers’ youngest; and this is Sumire – we work in the same guild branch. She got her third star the other day.”
I said hello to Tarina’s friends, who were smiling calmly. Although they lived in neighboring towns, they’d been friends since childhood, so they did cross-town jobs like this every so often. I was initially worried because it was my first time working with biting wine, but I breathed a sigh of relief knowing I’d be with a friend… but…
I was being watched.
No, I was being glared at. Relentlessly.
“Nn~? You know Tussa?”
“It’s more like… we had a little encounter earlier.”
The woman silently staring at me was Tussa-san, who had tried to speak with Fikar before lunch. When a beautiful woman bores holes into you with her eyes, it’s twice as scary as normal. I gave a slight bow to greet her, but she ignored me with a “Hmph!”
Biting wine was made from the harvested eastern man-eating melons. First, the top bit is cut off and the fruit’s flesh and liquid are put into barrels. Then, the mixture gets stepped on to spread the flesh’s flavor evenly. Next, cotton is used to strain out any impurities and, finally, the purified liquid is re-packaged into the dried husks of the previous year’s melons and left to sit in a cool, dark place for several months or years.
The wine could be drunk straight from the harvest, but it tended to begin souring and rotting after a few days. However, once passed through sheets of cotton, the drink’s proof would increase and allow it to last much longer.1
As it would seem, this melon-stomping process had always been the job of the town’s daughters, so it was decided that I would help. I’d heard similar things about sake on Earth…2 Do age and gender have something to do with the quality of the drink?
“Here, change into these and come inside.”
Our group was tasked with the stomping part of the process. For me, it was a unique experience and I was excited, but the others looked disappointed. They said it was hard to keep stomping continuously for such a long time.
Since we were going to be working in what was basically a tub, our work clothes were similar to a dress that reached down to our knees with a pair of pumpkin pants underneath. The women here almost never showed their legs and felt that those pants were basically underwear, so men were of course forbidden from entering the shed. Though, there were small holes at the back of the shed and long windows where the walls and ceiling met in order to prevent us from getting tipsy off the alcohol-laden air.
The others stepped into the vat, singing a song to keep their rhythm steady, and the men chimed in from outside. It seemed like they were supposed to sing along according to some unspoken rule, and if their voices were too loud, they’d be chased away as Peeping Toms. By the way, the song itself was about giving your belovèd the wine beneath your feet.
“It’s pretty slimy…”
“You’ll get used to it.”
“Be careful not to slip~”
I got changed, washed and wiped my feet, and splashed a dash of finished biting wine across them. I climbed onto the stepping stool, then down into the vat. There, a little under a meter from the rim, was a central pillar that we held on to as we marched in place.
The vat was about waist-high to prevent overflowing, since the liquid inside reached above my shins. That depth made the task a tiring one, not made any better by the fact that I didn’t know the song. As I absentmindedly stepped, one foot after the other, I was reminded of the physical difference between myself and the others, who were singing and stepping like it was nothing.
“Sumire-san, you’re close with Fikar, aren’t you?”
As I was finally getting myself into a rhythm of my own, Sisi-san questioned me excitedly. When I nodded, Rittel-san giggled and playfully elbowed me.
And, uh, the other person standing next to her glared at me like a Noh mask.
“What kind of person is Fikar? How did he defeat the Demon Lord?”
“Uh-h, umm… He’s quiet but kind, I guess. I never asked him how he did it, so I don’t know.”
“He’s just that strong? Are you two really living together?”
“I don’t know how he defeated it, but he’s definitely strong. And yes, we live together.”
Next to the two giddy girls, the hannya opened her mouth.3
“But you two, you’re not married? That’s weird!”
“Tussa, isn’t that going too far?”
In front of the strong-willed beauty, the two more-mature girls tensed up, watching us while moving only their legs.
“Well, Fikar and I were rescued near the same town at the same time, so we ended up helping each other out.”
“But it’s been more than half a year since then? Can’t you stand on your own two feet? There are vacant houses in Carcathia, so you should live separately from Fikar.”
You have rather precise information about me and Fikar, Tussa-san.
It’s true that I’m getting a better grasp on the things in life, but I’m very grateful for the benefits of Fikar’s income. On the other hand, I’ve been taking care of the cooking and housework, which Fikar doesn’t like to do very much, so I think it’s working out pretty well. So, I don’t see the need to change our current lifestyle for me to rent another house.
I didn’t say any of that out loud, though, since Tussa-san’s case of hannya would probably get worse if I did.
In my time of need, Tarina-san threw me a lifeline.
“Well, how about it? You and Fikar?”
“About what…?”
“Love~ Tussa-san is desperately searching for a husband. She’s too beautiful and prideful to settle for any random guy, so she wants to aim for Fikar if he’s single.”
Tarina-san, that’s a no-go!!
In the end, Tussa-san’s hannya transformed into something closer to Asura. Beautiful as she was, her aura was unbelievable. If you hung her portrait on the wall, no evil spirit would ever dare to come close.
“A-Aren’t you still too young to be this impatient?”
“Age has nothing to do with this! We run an inn, and we need a successor.”
“Eh? Could it be that your family runs the inn we’re staying at? Thank you for the food, it was delicious.”
“Naturally!!”
I was yelled at for some reason.
I see, Tussa-san is keen on marrying these days.
In this world, it wasn’t unsafe. Sure, there were more things to defend yourself from compared to in Japan, but the southeastern corner of the continent had a particularly peaceful atmosphere, even compared to the royal capital. And anyway, what we had to watch out for wasn’t human evil, but monster attacks. For that reason, the Adventurer’s Guild played the role of a self-defense force, and knight’s orders were also only stationed where damage from those attacks was frequent.
In such a world, strong people are reliable and popular. From that point of view, Fikar had a high score, so I could understand why Tussa-san, who was beautiful and popular in her own right, was going all out.
“If you aren’t going to marry Fikar, how about you start looking for someone else?”
“No, it’s not that I don’t want to marry Fikar. It’s just that I’ve been so busy trying my best to make a living that I’ve never really thought about marriage.”
“What’s with that?! That’s your reason?!”
‘It doesn’t matter what the reason is,’ is what I thought, but I was of perfect marriageable age in this world. Romantic marriages were the norm, though there were some who got married at much younger ages. And on the opposite side, some were older and single.
It’s none of your business!!
I swallowed those words, converting them into the power of my stomping feet.
TL Notes:
1: I have no idea what any of this stuff with cotton is about. Sure, I guess you could filter wine using cotton? Maybe? I don’t know any better? But the way it’s written seems to imply that cotton is mixed into the wine, which sounds a bit strange, at least to me who knows nothing about traditional wine-making. I can only speculate, but I don’t think the manga artist knew what this was about either, given how they put cotton flowers floating around Sumire without context.
2: This varies by community, but many in Japan historically deemed virgin/young girls to be the only ones worthy of chewing rice for sake, which was how it was originally processed.
3: Hannya (or han’nya) represent a woman’s rage and jealousy. More info if you’re interested.
Chapter 33: CH 33
“Ah, Tarina-san. Somehow, I’ve managed.”
It was Tarina-san, my senior with green pigtails, a cheerful and refreshing personality, and the inner strength to handle selfish adventurers day in and day out. She grew up in Tortea, though it seemed she came to Carcathia every year, and gave us loads of advice when we took the job.
“Let me introduce my friends: this is Sisi, a 3-star and shoemaker’s daughter; this is Rittel, the millers’ youngest; and this is Sumire – we work in the same guild branch. She got her third star the other day.”
I said hello to Tarina’s friends, who were smiling calmly. Although they lived in neighboring towns, they’d been friends since childhood, so they did cross-town jobs like this every so often. I was initially worried because it was my first time working with biting wine, but I breathed a sigh of relief knowing I’d be with a friend… but…
I was being watched.
No, I was being glared at. Relentlessly.
“Nn~? You know Tussa?”
“It’s more like… we had a little encounter earlier.”
The woman silently staring at me was Tussa-san, who had tried to speak with Fikar before lunch. When a beautiful woman bores holes into you with her eyes, it’s twice as scary as normal. I gave a slight bow to greet her, but she ignored me with a “Hmph!”
Biting wine was made from the harvested eastern man-eating melons. First, the top bit is cut off and the fruit’s flesh and liquid are put into barrels. Then, the mixture gets stepped on to spread the flesh’s flavor evenly. Next, cotton is used to strain out any impurities and, finally, the purified liquid is re-packaged into the dried husks of the previous year’s melons and left to sit in a cool, dark place for several months or years.
The wine could be drunk straight from the harvest, but it tended to begin souring and rotting after a few days. However, once passed through sheets of cotton, the drink’s proof would increase and allow it to last much longer.1
As it would seem, this melon-stomping process had always been the job of the town’s daughters, so it was decided that I would help. I’d heard similar things about sake on Earth…2 Do age and gender have something to do with the quality of the drink?
“Here, change into these and come inside.”
Our group was tasked with the stomping part of the process. For me, it was a unique experience and I was excited, but the others looked disappointed. They said it was hard to keep stomping continuously for such a long time.
Since we were going to be working in what was basically a tub, our work clothes were similar to a dress that reached down to our knees with a pair of pumpkin pants underneath. The women here almost never showed their legs and felt that those pants were basically underwear, so men were of course forbidden from entering the shed. Though, there were small holes at the back of the shed and long windows where the walls and ceiling met in order to prevent us from getting tipsy off the alcohol-laden air.
The others stepped into the vat, singing a song to keep their rhythm steady, and the men chimed in from outside. It seemed like they were supposed to sing along according to some unspoken rule, and if their voices were too loud, they’d be chased away as Peeping Toms. By the way, the song itself was about giving your belovèd the wine beneath your feet.
“It’s pretty slimy…”
“You’ll get used to it.”
“Be careful not to slip~”
The vat was about waist-high to prevent overflowing, since the liquid inside reached above my shins. That depth made the task a tiring one, not made any better by the fact that I didn’t know the song. As I absentmindedly stepped, one foot after the other, I was reminded of the physical difference between myself and the others, who were singing and stepping like it was nothing.
“Sumire-san, you’re close with Fikar, aren’t you?”
As I was finally getting myself into a rhythm of my own, Sisi-san questioned me excitedly. When I nodded, Rittel-san giggled and playfully elbowed me.
And, uh, the other person standing next to her glared at me like a Noh mask.
“What kind of person is Fikar? How did he defeat the Demon Lord?”
“Uh-h, umm… He’s quiet but kind, I guess. I never asked him how he did it, so I don’t know.”
“He’s just that strong? Are you two really living together?”
“I don’t know how he defeated it, but he’s definitely strong. And yes, we live together.”
Next to the two giddy girls, the hannya opened her mouth.3
“But you two, you’re not married? That’s weird!”
“Tussa, isn’t that going too far?”
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“What, it’s true, isn’t it?”In front of the strong-willed beauty, the two more-mature girls tensed up, watching us while moving only their legs.
“Well, Fikar and I were rescued near the same town at the same time, so we ended up helping each other out.”
“But it’s been more than half a year since then? Can’t you stand on your own two feet? There are vacant houses in Carcathia, so you should live separately from Fikar.”
You have rather precise information about me and Fikar, Tussa-san.
It’s true that I’m getting a better grasp on the things in life, but I’m very grateful for the benefits of Fikar’s income. On the other hand, I’ve been taking care of the cooking and housework, which Fikar doesn’t like to do very much, so I think it’s working out pretty well. So, I don’t see the need to change our current lifestyle for me to rent another house.
I didn’t say any of that out loud, though, since Tussa-san’s case of hannya would probably get worse if I did.
In my time of need, Tarina-san threw me a lifeline.
“About what…?”
“Love~ Tussa-san is desperately searching for a husband. She’s too beautiful and prideful to settle for any random guy, so she wants to aim for Fikar if he’s single.”
Tarina-san, that’s a no-go!!
In the end, Tussa-san’s hannya transformed into something closer to Asura. Beautiful as she was, her aura was unbelievable. If you hung her portrait on the wall, no evil spirit would ever dare to come close.
“A-Aren’t you still too young to be this impatient?”
“Age has nothing to do with this! We run an inn, and we need a successor.”
“Eh? Could it be that your family runs the inn we’re staying at? Thank you for the food, it was delicious.”
“Naturally!!”
I was yelled at for some reason.
I see, Tussa-san is keen on marrying these days.
In this world, it wasn’t unsafe. Sure, there were more things to defend yourself from compared to in Japan, but the southeastern corner of the continent had a particularly peaceful atmosphere, even compared to the royal capital. And anyway, what we had to watch out for wasn’t human evil, but monster attacks. For that reason, the Adventurer’s Guild played the role of a self-defense force, and knight’s orders were also only stationed where damage from those attacks was frequent.
In such a world, strong people are reliable and popular. From that point of view, Fikar had a high score, so I could understand why Tussa-san, who was beautiful and popular in her own right, was going all out.
“If you aren’t going to marry Fikar, how about you start looking for someone else?”
“No, it’s not that I don’t want to marry Fikar. It’s just that I’ve been so busy trying my best to make a living that I’ve never really thought about marriage.”
“What’s with that?! That’s your reason?!”
‘It doesn’t matter what the reason is,’ is what I thought, but I was of perfect marriageable age in this world. Romantic marriages were the norm, though there were some who got married at much younger ages. And on the opposite side, some were older and single.
It’s none of your business!!
I swallowed those words, converting them into the power of my stomping feet.
TL Notes:
2: This varies by community, but many in Japan historically deemed virgin/young girls to be the only ones worthy of chewing rice for sake, which was how it was originally processed.
3: Hannya (or han’nya) represent a woman’s rage and jealousy. More info if you’re interested.
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