“I need to draw a line on the tree, so just hold the rope tight at the end.”
Ahhh!
Hehehe!
From the next day, my job changed from carrying heavy materials to assisting the Master Carpenter!
Even if the job was still manual labor, how awesome was it to have a little less strain? They said I’d even get paid more!
“Yes! I’ll hold it tight!”
I took the rope I was given and brought it to the end of the construction material wood. As soon as I did, the Master Carpenter started marking the wood.
“How dare a barbarian work with the Master Carpenter…”
“How is it that someone who doesn’t even take on many apprentices finds himself working with such a barbarian?”
It’s only natural for people to be upset about a barbarian like me being an assistant to the Master Carpenter. But what can I do?
Is there a line stronger than the Master’s line? Social life is all about connections, guys.
Of course, if I relied only on connections and acted like a thunderous fool, I might end up kicked out of the Master Carpenter’s party. No way am I going back to hauling construction materials!
I had to make the carpenters regret it if I disappeared, getting all obsessed and depressed about it.
——-
“Who changed all the tools here?”
One of the carpenters said while looking at the newly sharpened tools.
“Oh? Mine’s sharpened too. This chisel was hard to sharpen, so I was wondering if I should just get a new one.”
“Did Shijang call a sharpener to do this?”
“That bastard? He’s a money-stealing lunatic. No way he called such an expensive sharpener for this nonsense!”
“I did it.”
I suddenly stepped up and said.
“You, the barbarian?”
“Yes. I heard you all complaining about the tools yesterday, so I woke up a little early this morning to sharpen them.”
“You did all of this?”
One of the carpenters looked at me with a surprised expression.
Unlike knives, the tools don’t have a big edge, so it didn’t take long at all. Sure, it was a bit annoying waking up at dawn, though.
“I wouldn’t have sharpened them as well as you did.”
“Wow, well done.”
“It’s not common for a barbarian to have some skills.”
Even the carpenters who looked down at me started to check out the tools and begrudgingly gave me praise.
Hehehe. This is just the beginning.
“I brought some water beforehand!”
“I cleaned up the sawdust and wood scraps over there!!”
As I took care of all the visible little tasks, the perception among the carpenters started to change little by little.
It’s so great to win someone’s favor with such an easy job.
———
Just like working during the day, telling stories at night wasn’t hard at all.
All of them were divorce series stories.
Nice husband, wicked wife. Just had to change the wicked wife’s repertoire. Like realizing the kid was actually an affair child, or that the wife was giving money to another man, or the wife continuously sabotaging her husband’s future.
“That rotten woman, she’s worse than yesterday.”
“Today she’s crazier than that!”
“Why does it seem like a worse woman shows up every single day?”
I just had to change the initial variations about the wicked wife a little to keep the success going.
After divorce, a prince, after divorce, a genius craftsman, after divorce, a past success. A wife who elegantly escapes, only to regret it later makes for an instant story.
“I think the barbarian tells stories superbly.”
“If we’d gone to the marketplace, we would have spent a lot of money!”
“The same old stories are told by those market storytellers. But this barbarian is always refreshing.”
The carpenters were completely satisfied. I was also super satisfied because all I had to do was show up, talk, and reap the rewards. Rumor somehow spread, and this happened:
“I’ll buy you a drink of takju once I’m done working!!”
“Are you crazy? Why would you sell your place for just takju?”
“Do you think I’m gonna just let you in knowing how obsessed I am with marketplace stories?”
Since only a limited number of people could enter the lodging, now there were even folks wanting to buy a spot next to me.
Though it was clearly designated lodging, suddenly people started coming and going every night except for the Master Carpenter. I was worried I might bore them with similar stories, but thanks to this, they didn’t get too tired of it.
“Hey, Joseon storyteller. Come sit and eat with us. I’ll give you more meat side dishes. Tell us a story.”
“Storyteller, can you save me a spot in your room? I brought some sweets.”
As word spread like wildfire, even the carpenters who had looked down on me finally raised their white flags and approached.
“Barbarian. You’re a storyteller, right? Please tell us the one about the divorce or whatever.”
“Yes, we can’t listen at night because we’re commuting, but we’ve heard that story is quite fun.”
“Of course! Let me eat quick, and I’ll tell you the story of the genius carpenter after a divorce.”
“Thanks, little guy.”
Once I shared a divorce series during lunchtime, I rapidly promoted from a barbarian to the youngest among the carpenters.
As a few days passed,
I had somehow transformed from a discriminated black-haired barbarian to a respected Joseon storyteller.
———
“Wow, our little one! How come you’re so strong?”
“Did the Master Carpenter pick you for your strength? You tell great stories and work well, you’re a top-notch little one.”
I volunteered to beat beams inside the column with a big wooden hammer, and thanks to mastering the Tonae Technique, I was able to drive them in with ease.
Thanks to me, a task that needed to be finished today was done by morning.
And what should follow? Yari-Kari!
Even if the world changes, heavy labor breaks are probably a universal rule. That meant after lunch, I could lay out on the grass and enjoy the rest of the time. The carpenters were in high spirits and gave me compliments.
“It seems that roaming around here and there since I was little increased my stamina.”
“Really? That’s amazing. Are all Korean people that strong?”
Not Korean but Made in Joseon.
But I didn’t want to mess with the good relationship I had built, so I only grumbled internally.
“That’s not the only one. Just look at Shijang’s wife.”
“What? Is Shijang’s wife a Joseon person?”
What, so they were hitting me because I’m a black-haired barbarian?
“No. Shijang’s wife ran off with a black-haired barbarian. Apparently, she took every penny Shijang had after being charmed by that guy.”
“……”
Goodness.
“You know the saying about women who go for black-haired guys? They don’t come back.”
That doesn’t seem to match what I know.
“Indeed. You should’ve seen the signs when your wife was getting close to a black-haired guy. What woman wouldn’t be swayed by that?”
“Look at our little one here. When I saw the tent he pitched this morning, it looked like he could support beams on top of that.”
The carpenters watched me with subtly envious eyes.
It’s embarrassing to be stared at like that.
I always thought I was quite sturdy. Maybe those settings from Korean dating sims are subtly embedded in me?
“That Shijang fellow is making noise saying he wants to remarry a younger woman after hearing the little one’s divorce stories.”
“Well, good for him.”
“Does he think he’s the protagonist of the story or something? Hehe.”
We spent a lazy afternoon gossiping about the rotten character Shijang.
—-
Work is like a fired arrow.
Starting off is tough, but once it becomes routine, you’ll find yourself at your destination before you know it. Working at the construction site was the same. At first, I had to work hard to fit in among people, but I adapted, and before I knew it, it was over.
“Master Carpenter, thanks to you, I can leave without trouble.”
It was all thanks to the Master Carpenter that I could work without difficulty during my work time.
“Is it really my merit? It’s your storytelling skills that brought us joy. I enjoyed working here because of that.”
The Master Carpenter accepted my gratitude with a pleased smile.
“Little one! Come work with us at another site.”
“I think our little one could learn a lot about carpentry. How about coming along?”
“Master Carpenter, isn’t this little one about the right age to learn?”
“Thinking about it, that’s true. What do you think? Would you like to work under me?”
The Master Carpenter pretended to think for a moment, stroking his beard, then made me an offer.
Such an attractive proposition.
If I followed the Master Carpenter, I’d never go hungry.
Had it been me from a few days ago, I would have accepted without hesitating.
“I really appreciate your offer, but there’s something else I want to try.”
“There aren’t many things a barbarian can do in this Central Plains, are there? May I ask what it is you wish to pursue?”
“I want to become a storyteller.”
It was the conclusion I came after contemplating over the past several days.
I can’t return to Joseon or the Murong Family. I have to live in this Central Plains until I die.
To live, I need to earn money.
But how many things can a discriminated barbarian do? I barely scraped by until now, but I need to break free from that condition.
What was I doing before I got trapped in this place?
A web novelist.
However, there are big issues with making money by selling books here.
First, I don’t have the money to make books.
How could someone who could barely eat have money for writing supplies and books?
Second, there’s no guarantee anyone would buy a barbarian’s books.
I’m confident in the novels I’ve written, but considering the discrimination I’ve faced in the past year, I can’t see people buying books I wrote at a bookstore.
Third, this world has no copyright laws.
Just because I wrote an interesting book, it doesn’t mean all the money comes back to me. It’s all going to fatten up those who illegally copy the works.
To earn money by writing books in this world, I need preconditions. I must be capable of mass-producing the first edition at the time of the first publication, and I must be able to protect the rights to my work if I want to make money.
There were too many barriers for a black-haired barbarian in the Central Plains to make a living writing books.
But being a storyteller was not one of them.
Although black-haired barbarians are discriminated against, storytellers from foreign lands are treated with respect.
Exotic foreign tales. Just by mixing in my performance and telling fascinating stories, someone will lend an ear. My exciting stories would be far more interesting than the bland ones this place usually has.
If I utilize this well, I’m sure I can survive in this martial arts world.
“Storyteller? Yes, I certainly think you could make it work. I have seen many storytellers, but I’ve never come across anyone who tells stories with such joy as you.”
“Yes. Over the past few days, I’ve gained confidence through trying. Thank you for the offer, but I would like to try being a storyteller.”
Would this be a decision I’d regret? Even as I speak, I’m worrying. I’m sure working as a carpenter would keep me fed in this world. But ultimately, I’d just be a barbarian carpenter. I’d remain a perpetual outsider.
Better to do something where I can utilize my identity as a barbarian.
“Let me see your hands for a moment.”
“Uh? Alright.”
As I extended my hand, the Master Carpenter handed me a small pouch.
“What’s this?”
“I’ve been thinking that just the work as an assistant doesn’t quite cut it for all the unique stories you’ve shared every night. So, I came together with the laborers and gathered some payments for your stories. I put in my share, too. Take it.”
It was completely unexpected money. I only shared stories because I wanted a smoother job, and yet they wanted to pay me more.
After a year of being discriminated against,
this was pure goodwill after a year.
“…….”
In that moment, my chest felt tight. My hands trembled. A small pouch but heavier than any pouch I’d ever held. Overwhelmed with the warmth of kindness I hadn’t felt in a long time, I could hardly breathe.
“Thinking about it, since you’re wanting to be a storyteller, am I to be your first guest? That’s quite an honor.”
“The honor is mine.”
“I know it’s tough living in Central Plains as a barbarian. However, with your storytelling skills, I’m sure you’ll find success. I promise you that.”
“I will do my best.”
“Good. If you’re going to be a storyteller, head to Chilgok County. There’s a textile merchant called Wang there; he’s a friend of mine. Go tell him my story. He’ll make sure you have a place to tell your stories.”
“Thank you so much. I don’t know how to repay this kindness.”
“Kindness? I was just paying the price for your stories. It was that enjoyable. Now, I must get back to my paperwork. You go ahead first.”
“Alright. I will take my leave now.”
As I received the send-off from the construction workers, I began my walk toward Chilgok County.
Chilgok County, huh.
I hope it’s a good place to start the life of a storyteller.
