Culture…? (3)

They informed me that, since they no longer needed to go to the Balsen Domain, they had time to spare and would spend a few days in our territory.

And it turned out the Mansia seeds were indeed “coffee beans.”

“Splendid…”

As a thank-you for a good deal, they gifted me a whole sack. I took it up to the workshop, put on a grave expression, set a heating lamp and a wok I’d “borrowed” from the kitchen, and poured the coffee beans in.

I wasn’t planning to roast a large amount.

Since it was my first time, I meant to proceed slowly through trial and error. I even prepared to take notes with a serious face to see what would happen if I used mana during roasting this time.

I had muslin, a grinder, and mugs ready for brewing as well. I was very serious.

“Hoo… going in earnest.”

Could I be any more solemn than this?

With that kind of determination, I switched on the heating lamp, set the wok on top, and began rolling the coffee beans.

Infusing mana so the beans wouldn’t burn and would brown evenly, I roasted them. When the nutty, glorious aroma filled the workshop, I nearly burst into tears.

Even Seria and Ariana, waiting outside, peeked in with interest. I was thinking I’d brew them a cup once I was done.

How long did I keep the beans rolling?

When I felt it was about right, I turned off the lamp, poured the beans into a basket lined with muslin to cool, then rolled them around with a spoon to check if the roast was even.

“My lord… what is this fragrant smell?”

Seria couldn’t hold back and spoke up, and I flashed her a devilish grin.

“A divine gift you can never escape once you get addicted.”

Seria looked puzzled, but Ariana was bold.

“In that case, I want to taste it. I said I’ve never regretted anything you’ve made, my lord.”

Whoever said that, it was true I hadn’t had any notable failures yet. Thinking this would be the same, I told them to wait, scooped some freshly roasted beans into the grinder, and cranked away.

With a krrr-krrak sound, the beans were ground, the aroma grew even richer, and the grounds seemed to beg to be made into coffee. I stopped, set muslin over a mug, and spooned in a suitable amount of grounds.

My heart started pounding.

“Caffeine is calling me. Don’t act up, heart!”

Convinced this was surely a revelation from the god of caffeine, I looked for water… and realized my mistake.

“Darn it, I forgot to boil the water… Seria, could you bring a kettle?”

“Huh? Ah, yes!”

Seria dashed off, and with only the pouring left to do, my hands began to tremble with impatience.

I was already certain by sight and smell that this was coffee, and in my agitation time seemed to crawl.

After a while, Seria returned with the kettle. I took it, brought the water to a boil on the heating lamp, and then began pouring very slowly—ever so slowly—over the muslin.

“It’s been so long since I’ve had coffee… I want it at its very best.”

Desire cried out: bring out the finest. And I’d learned the best way to draw out coffee’s aroma and flavor was to pour the water slowly.

Following that lesson, I endured and let it drip. A different scent from the roasting stage began to spread, filling the workshop with a smell close to the coffee I knew.

The aroma alone seemed to put the taste on my tongue. When a proper amount had dripped into the mug, I removed the muslin and lifted the cup.

Looking at the mug, about two-fifths full, I felt moved. I brought it slowly to my lips and inhaled deeply first.

Honestly, I’m a “coffee no-expert.” But as someone who loved any coffee, this cup I had carefully hand-dripped felt special. Swelled with anticipation, I tilted the cup.

As the hot liquid slid along the cup and touched my lips, I forgot all my old frustrations and finally held a bitter cup of life in my mouth.

Horororo—the sound of drinking coffee tickled all five senses. At last, coffee entered my mouth…

If the god of caffeine were watching, even he would have praised this reverent sight. Swept up in a surge of emotion, I enjoyed the bitter yet gentle aroma embracing me and took my first sip.

“Perfect…”

No other words were necessary.

After that, coffee became the second indispensable beverage of the lord’s manor. The first—no need to belabor it—was sikhye. The barley here, unlike Earth’s, was notably sweeter and fuller.

Thanks to that, the sugars extracted from yeotgireum were a work of art; even without added sweeteners, it was sweet enough to be a blessing for those who could scarcely get sugar except from fruit.

“Wasn’t sugar called a legal narcotic?”

There were many ingredients that produced sweetness, but no pure sweetener by itself—so what came to mind was jocheong (rice syrup).

Since we had yeotgireum, we could make jocheong; I considered turning it into another specialty of our domain.

Given that people didn’t know the malting process, I figured it would be hard for others to make.

In truth, the method was simple, but sprouting barley and making yeotgireum took a lot of labor.

Even if they knew how, most wouldn’t easily copy it. So I went ahead and produced jocheong as a sugar substitute.

“But my lord, are you not going out to the festival today either?”

I’d heard the festival would last a week. Three days had already passed, and even when urged to go enjoy warm pancakes and coffee, I hadn’t gone.

Still, today I had to get out and work my legs for business.

“I should. I need to check the goods for the Dust of Sands Company. Also… good coffee, right?”

At my words, Beni, Seria, and Ariana all smiled brightly.

“It’s such a shame—the coffee we brew ourselves just doesn’t taste like yours, my lord.”

“So you’re asking me to brew it for you?”

“No, not that—just that the taste is so different.”

I chuckled and said I’d brew it if I got the chance later, then left the manor. As always, Demina followed close behind, so I asked:

“Are you enjoying the festival?”

“Since you’re not enjoying it, my lord, I can’t enjoy it either.”

She’s trying to make me feel guilty on purpose, right?

If not, she wouldn’t have said it so guilelessly. Either way, I did feel bad. Since I might leave the manor at any time, Demina had essentially appointed herself my exclusive guard and couldn’t move about freely.

“Why not switch out with someone else and look around a bit? Why cling to me?”

“I’m only doing the job I’m meant to do.”

“Good grief. Then after we finish with the Dust of Sands Company, shall the two of us go on… a date?”

Demina smiled awkwardly. Perhaps she still felt burdened because of that incident back then?

I was thinking that when, from afar, Idlen spotted me, hurried over, and bowed.

“We loaded everything you prepared into our carriages and were about to come call on you, my lord… We’re at a loss that you came out yourself.”

“It was a good deal—this much of a greeting is only proper. Also, please take this.”

It was jocheong. I’d made it to try in coffee, but its flavor and aroma were too strong, so I’d concluded it didn’t match coffee.

“What is this…?”

“Shall we call it a magical solid that makes things sweet?”

Puzzled, she tilted her head, opened the lid, sniffed, then dipped a finger in and popped it into her mouth. Honestly, it was a striking change.

The wary vigilance the Dust of Sands folk had shown at first was nowhere to be seen now. Suckling her finger, eyes wide, Idlen asked in surprise,

“Is this also a specialty of Ingrad?”

“I think it will be, eventually. I plan to harden it and make various things. If you let it set firm, it makes a great snack. There’s also a kind of confection that takes quite a bit of hand labor called hangwa. I can’t produce it right away, but after some trial and error, I intend to sell it.”

Hangwa wasn’t hard to make if you had a few ingredients and were willing to put in the work. But for now, I’d have to do all the labor myself, so I planned to launch later—seeing whether I could simplify steps, and whether that affected taste or quality.

This world has too little in the way of fun or treats. There aren’t even proper candies…

At least cookies were fairly developed—that was some comfort. I also had a request for Idlen.

“When you return south, please look for a fruit shaped like this that comes in gray, purple, and blue. When ripe it turns yellow and is about this size. Could you see if it exists?”

“There’s a fruit that comes to mind, but… it has many seeds, so for eating…”

“Oh, so there is something. I heard it’s very seedy—and that its seeds have a faint sweetness.”

“In that case, it must be the one children snack on. It’s called Kanapa.”

“Oh! Then let’s do this. On your trip back, please buy a large quantity of that Kanapa fruit. And I’d like to purchase Mansia seeds in bulk as well—possible?”

“They’re common in the south… How much do you need?”

Idlen asked carefully, and I grinned.

“I’d be grateful if you sold me your entire stock. Well, that might be excessive—how about enough to match this one note?”

Idlen glanced at the promissory note for ten thousand florins fluttering in my hand and said, almost in alarm,

“To supply that much, we might have to sweep every southern domain. Hmm… a thousand florins’ worth should be plenty. Honestly, even that seems like a lot.”

I wondered how the local prices were set, but I said all right, exchanged the note, and handed it to her.

“Advance payment. A merchant’s life is credit—I’ll trust you.”

Idlen accepted the note, bewildered for a moment, then squared her shoulders and vowed to fulfill the goal—making me wonder if I’d given her some grand, weighty mission.

Soon after, Idlen left, saying her schedule was tight—and thus began our connection with the Dust of Sands Trading Company.