Volume One, Chapter Five: Herb Merchant and Plum Preserving
After finishing breakfast, Jade and I were in the room known as the pantry—or storeroom—checking which ingredients needed restocking. It should have been bright outside, but this windowless room was always pitch-black, illuminated by nothing more than a single incandescent light bulb.
Salt, sugar, root vegetables. I jotted down notes on the items that could be restocked even in this other world.
“There really is an incredible amount of alcohol in here… Are all the bottles on this shelf sake?”
“In case you’re wondering, the boxes stacked over there and the wooden crates are also alcohol. From this point over here it switches to soy sauce and cooking sake, though.”
The wooden shelves built against the wall were packed tight with sake, shochu, whiskey, and wine. A few premium bottles tucked away in boxes here and there. On the floor, cases of boxed beer were stacked up. From what I could see, sake and shochu stock looked fine. Beer… the quantity was a bit worrying for making it through summer.
The shelf on the opposite side held preserved foods. Large bottles of soy sauce and cooking sake. Big sacks of rice, various dried goods. Miso barrels, jars of umeboshi—pickled plums—plum wine, and fruit liqueurs. Countless jars of mushrooms preserved in oil, pickles, and canned goods like anchovies and mackerel, more than I could count.
…The canned goods and dried items looked fine, but the remaining rice was concerning. The miso barrel was still about half full, though whether it’d last until winter… I had made miso by hand before, but I wasn’t sure if koji fungus would be available here.
“The alcohol was collected by my grandfather and me, and the canned goods by my grandmother. It’s amazing how much accumulated.”
“Oh? Are these valuable items?”
“No, no, most of them are pretty ordinary, store-bought stuff. My grandfather and I would give each other alcohol as anniversary gifts, and my grandparents loved traveling, so they’d bring some back as souvenirs. Plus relatives and friends would send huge amounts as seasonal gifts. My grandfather was famous for loving his drink.”
More than my grandfather and I could ever finish drinking, honestly. He’d worked at the local agricultural co-op until retirement, and had an incredibly wide circle of acquaintances.
“The canned goods were my grandmother’s doing—she was always stocking up in case of a disaster. …Though I’m not sure how anchovies would even help during an actual emergency.”
It’s not like you could exactly boil pasta at an evacuation shelter… well, my grandmother had always been a little scatterbrained about it, seemingly under the impression that any canned good would do in a pinch.
Honestly, keeping disaster supplies somewhere this hard to access in the first place already seemed questionable as emergency prep.
While mulling that over, I went through the shelves methodically, checking for anything missing, when a jar of plum wine caught my eye.
—And I let out a big sigh.
“Akane? Is something the matter?”
Jade peered at me with a concerned expression.
“Oh, sorry. It’s just… this is a drink called plum wine.”
“Oh, so these round fruits are called plums? What a lovely amber color the liquor has. …Wait, is that bottle next to it plum wine too? And the one beside that? …There’s an awful lot of it.”
“Yeah. I used to pickle plums every spring… though I can’t do it this year.”
Preparing all sorts of plum-based things in early spring had always been one of my favorite yearly rituals.
Once green ume—also known as Japanese plum—started showing up at the supermarket around May, my heart would flutter with excitement. Umeboshi, plum wine, plum syrup…
I experimented with different salt concentrations to find my favorite flavor for umeboshi. Sometimes I added shiso leaves to the pickling jar and made yukari seasoning at the same time. With plum wine, I’d try making it less sweet, replacing the rock sugar with honey, or using brandy instead of clear liquor… I loved trying different variations every year and enjoying the subtle differences.
Of course, I’d searched the local market here too, hoping to find something plum-like, but no matter how hard I looked, I never found any…
Honestly, I’d more or less given up hope for this year.
Well, there was no point worrying about something I couldn’t get.
The remaining umeboshi supply was getting worryingly low, but there was nothing to do but stretch it out carefully.
◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇
A few days had passed since I checked our supplies in the pantry.
Today too, I’d been wandering the market since morning, gathering ingredients.
Walking through the crowds, I found myself unconsciously scanning for ume plums, but as always, those little round green fruits were nowhere to be found.
Wandering the market, I somehow found myself in the area lined with street stalls. Instantly, that distinct herbal-medicine scent hit my nose. Bottles of colorful potions glittered in the sunlight, and an apothecary grinding some mysterious powdered medicine looked distinctly suspicious.
In one corner, a stall caught my eye—run by an elderly herb merchant, its shelves lined with dried herbs, nuts, and spices.
—Come to think of it, I’d never really taken the time to look at one closely before.
Remembering that I was running low on herbs for tomato dishes and stews, I decided to check it out.
The shop’s selection was genuinely impressive. Clearly carrying far more variety than the neighboring stalls, and clearly thriving because of it. Strangely colored herbs, oddly-shaped nuts, and dubious items—what looked suspiciously like charred lizard—were all lined up out front. As I examined these mysterious goods with keen interest, imagining what each might be used for, a shriveled fruit caught my eye.
—This is…
I found myself staring at it intently.
“Something catch your eye, miss?”
The elderly herb merchant spoke up, and I glanced up from the fruit to meet his gaze, hidden deep beneath a hood. I’d assumed he was elderly based on his hunched posture and general atmosphere, but seeing his face for the first time now, I was surprised to find he was actually quite young.
Fox-like features, I suppose you’d call them. Eyes narrow as thread, thin lips curved into a slight arc. Through a gap in his robe, a beautifully geometric, flower-motif earring peeked out with a faint jingle. His abundant hair was dull ochre colored. His face, its gaze impossible to pin down, wore a strange, unreadable smile.
“That’s a chiko fruit. They’re commonly harvested in the forests of the southern countries around this time of year. They’re smoked and steeped to make medicinal brews. They have all sorts of benefits, such as stimulating the appetite, relieving fatigue, and regulating digestion…”
Then, the next moment, the herb merchant added:
“The raw fruit is poisonous, though. Perhaps that’s what you are interested in, miss?”
He said this, curling the corner of his mouth into a bow-shaped smirk.
At that, Jade, beside me, reacted instantly to the herb merchant’s words, hand moving to the sword at his hip.
“You… how dare you be so disrespectful!”
“Oh my, forgive me. Plenty of nobles do seek out such things, you know? Do pardon me.”
Chuckling with apparent amusement, the herb merchant took a puff from his pipe.
At Jade’s sharp tone, the surrounding crowd began to murmur uneasily. People kept a wary distance from us, watching the scene with concern.
…Wait, we’re drawing way too much attention!?
I really didn’t want to stand out like this. Thinking that, I tried to calm Jade down.
“…Mr. Jade, drawing your sword here would be—”
“Sorry. I got a little worked up.”
At my words, Jade released his grip on the sword’s hilt and took my hand again instead.
…Even in a situation like this, you’re holding my hand!?
But perhaps thanks to that, the tense atmosphere eased, and the surrounding crowd’s attention drifted elsewhere.
Relieved inwardly, I looked again at the herb merchant’s mischievous face.
“By chance… is that raw fruit’s poison so mild that even a child would need to eat, like, a hundred of them before it had any effect?”
When I asked with a smile, the herb merchant paused mid-puff on his pipe, narrowing his already thread-thin eyes even further with amusement.
“Well now, miss, you certainly know your stuff. That’s right, it’s practically negligible. …Your knight here is quite the earnest one, isn’t he? Makes him fun to tease.”
Watching the herb merchant’s shoulders shake with quiet laughter, I glanced briefly at the Appraisal window floating in the air.
Chiko Fruit
A fruit harvested in relatively warm regions. Blooms white flowers in early spring, renowned for their beauty; however, since the flowers’ fragrance contains a significant amount of magical power and attracts many monsters, it is never cultivated by human hands and grows only wild, deep in the mountains.
Both its fruit and seeds are used medicinally, with a wide range of effects.
It is the equivalent of ume, Japanese plum.
…Plum! It’s plum!
I’d finally found plum…! I trembled with the sheer emotion of having what I’d been searching for so relentlessly right in front of me.
Overwhelmed with excitement, I found myself unconsciously squeezing Jade’s hand tight.
I noticed him glancing at me with a worried expression, but too caught up in the thrill of finally getting my hands on plum, I paid it no mind and immediately began negotiating with the herb merchant.
“The raw fruit? So you do want the poisonous kind after all? …Haha, I’m kidding. I can get some for you through my connections right now. …By the way, what are you planning to do with them? Surely you don’t intend to eat them raw?”
“…Back where I come from, we pickle this fruit in alcohol. And also preserve it in salt, and in sugar.”
“Ohh?”
At my words, the herb merchant nodded with obvious interest.
Then, seeming to hit upon some good idea, he rubbed his chin thoughtfully, looking pleased, and said, "I’ll give you a good price on this.”
I was taken aback that he’d offer that without even any negotiation on my part, and as I stood there surprised, he opened his narrow eyes wide and said:
“In exchange, though, do share a bit of what you make with me, would you? It sounds like I’ll get to taste something quite rare.”
The herb merchant’s red eyes glittered with obvious delight, and his whole body shook with what looked like genuine enjoyment.
◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇
A few days later, a box of chiko fruits arrived. The fruits were plump, with hardly any blemishes, and every single one was a vivid green—the finest possible condition.
I’d been out on the veranda drying jars and containers I’d sterilized in boiling water, and the moment I saw the delivery, I practically jumped for joy.
Jade looked somewhat taken aback by my unusually high spirits. Too excited to care, I rolled up my sleeves, psyching myself up.
I spread out the box of chiko fruits on the veranda and began preparing everything.
With the weather so warm today, it was the perfect day for for working with ume plums. I couldn’t wait to get started.
Our beloved dog, sniffing curiously at the chiko fruits, seemed thoroughly fascinated too.
First, I washed the fruits thoroughly, placing them in a large basin filled with water. The fruits I’d gotten felt soft and gentle to the touch. Just like Nanko plums back home. …Maybe I won’t even need to remove the bitterness this time.
Right then, Dazil showed up carrying several bottles of alcohol, announcing, "Time to pay off my herring debt!”
Since I was going to be making plum wine in another world, I’d asked him to bring some of this world’s high-proof distilled spirits.
“This here’s dwarf-brewed fire liquor. Strong enough that it’ll catch fire if you bring a flame close. And this one’s a drink commonly used around here for pickling fruit…”
Incidentally, the dwarf-brewed fire liquor was apparently Dazil’s own secret stash. He held it out to me with a genuinely mournful, sympathy-inducing expression, but I accepted it with a big, beaming smile anyway.
From Luvan, a large delivery of rock sugar and coarse salt had already arrived the day before. That was the result of my talking about my love for herring every time I met him.
Rock sugar wasn’t widely available here, making it quite precious. It had only recently been introduced to Gilberta from a western kingdom, where it was considered a luxury item, so it was difficult to obtain. But that was what having a Prime Minister on your side was for. He’d put his full authority to good use.
The coarse salt was high-quality natural salt, carefully made from seawater. Its complex, savory saltiness, distinct from refined table salt, was perfect for making umeboshi.
Thanks to the great sacrifice of a certain herring, I’d managed to assemble all these fine ingredients.
I stood there grinning, hands on hips, admiring it all, thoroughly pleased with myself.
“Akane, drool.”
“Gah…!”
It seemed my excitement had reduced me to a rather unladylike state without my even realizing it.
At Jade’s pointed remark, I hastily wiped my mouth.
…Anyway, time to get to work.
Incidentally, Dazil left, saying he had work to attend to—though not before adding, "Save me some when it’s done, alright?”
The process of preparing plums wasn’t complicated.
All you had to do was use a bamboo skewer to remove the stems from the bottoms of the chiko fruits… or rather, the ume plums, which had been soaking in water. Ume plums were sensitive to metal, so it was best to avoid exposing them to it. Once the stems were removed, you needed to wipe off the moisture and let the plums dry for a little while.
This step was the same for all three: plum wine, umeboshi, and plum syrup.
…The only problem was the sheer quantity, which made the task incredibly tedious.
Five kilograms for umeboshi. One kilogram for plum syrup. Four kilograms for plum wine.
The mountain of plums piled up in the wooden crate was genuinely imposing.
Sitting under the spring sunshine, I had to painstakingly poke out the stem ends of every single plum with a bamboo skewer and carefully wipe away the moisture… What a mind-numbingly tedious and patience-testing task!
—But with enough love for plums, it’s nothing at all!
I gave Jade’s shoulder a pat, flashed him a beaming smile, and gave a firm thumbs up.
“Here begins the fun, fun plum processing!”
At those words, Jade’s mouth twitched at the corners—as though he were simply overwhelmed with joy.
By the time we’d finally finished processing all the plums, Jade had worn himself out and collapsed onto the veranda. We still had to pickle everything; was he really going to be okay?
…Feeling a little sorry for him, I placed Leon on his lap. Once our Leon climbed onto someone’s lap and fell asleep, it absolutely refused to leave. No matter how badly the person needed to use the bathroom, even if they move it off again and again, the little rascal always came right back.
Well, I could easily manage the rest solo, so I’d let him enjoy some healing puppy cuddles to his heart’s content.
—Alright then, time to get moving.
First up, plum syrup.
The method was simple: alternate layers of plum and an equal weight of rock sugar in a jar, then store somewhere cool and dark.
I got right to it, dropping the milky-white, pebble-like rock sugar into the jar with a clatter. Then a layer of plum. Then more rock sugar. Building it up in neat layers.
Done this way, within a few days the solid rock sugar would gradually dissolve into liquid form from the moisture seeping out of the plums, and the plum’s flavor would melt into that thick, sweet syrup.
You should check on it daily, giving the jar a gentle shake to mix things around. After about ten days, once all the rock sugar had dissolved, the syrup would be ready. You’d remove the plums and store just the delicious syrup in the refrigerator.
Plum syrup mixed with sparkling water was a refreshingly perfect drink for the hot summer months. Sweet and fizzy, gentle on a stomach worn out by the heat.
Next, plum wine. For plum wine, the rock sugar was used at half the weight of the plums.
You could adjust the amount of rock sugar to suit your taste. Just be careful not to use too little, or the plums might not release their flavor properly.
Same as with the syrup, alternate layers of plum and rock sugar in a jar, then pour in the alcohol.
Ideally, the alcohol should be a distilled spirit with at least 35% alcohol content. If it was too low, there was a risk that the mixture would ferment. I’d heard that plum wine made with sake was delicious, but I was too worried about fermentation to try it myself.
The higher the alcohol content, the faster the plum essence would be extracted, meaning the plum wine would be ready sooner.
Actually, I once saw online that plum wine made with Spirytus—a Polish vodka with a staggering 96% alcohol content—turns out incredibly delicious.
I’d always wanted to try it, but there was no way a countryside liquor store would carry something like Spirytus, and ordering it specially online felt like too much trouble, so I’d always hesitated and never actually tried it.
—Spirytus is famous for being a liquor that could “burn.”
—And dwarf-brewed fire liquor is also said to "burn."
The thought that my wish might come true in such an unexpected way filled me with excitement.
I poured the fire liquor into the jar, glug, glug, glug.
Almost instantly, the plums started darkening. Normally, they’d stay green and wouldn’t change color so quickly.
The speed of the plums’ transformation was almost frightening.
Exactly like the photos I’d seen online, and I couldn’t help but grin with delight.
Normally, plum wine needed at least three months to mature, and half a year was ideal for drinking. But this batch made with fire liquor would probably be ready in about a month and a half.
By then, its alcohol content should’ve dropped by half too, settling to about whiskey-strength.
—I can’t wait to see how it turns out!
After that, I pickled another batch using the second type of alcohol in the same way.
Sealing the lids tightly, I watched the beautiful green fruits and milky rock sugar settle into neat layers within the clear liquor, gave it a gentle shake, and wished it luck on turning out delicious.
All right, time for the umeboshi.
I looked at the plums that remained in front of me.
Still green and unripe, the fruits were firm and didn’t carry much fragrance yet.
Normally, you’d leave them sitting indoors for several days until they softened and ripened…
But instead, for some reason, I dragged Jade—still limply cradling Leon—over toward the fruits.
“Jade, I’d like to use magic!”
“Um. Akane?”
Faced with Jade’s utterly baffled expression at my sudden request, I explained:
“The herb merchant told me—if you bathe them in magical power, you can quickly ripen this… plum… I mean, chiko fruit, easily.”
When I’d asked whether I could get any yellow, fully ripened fruit, the herb merchant had taught me a method to force-ripen them using magical power. Truly, another world. It was amazing that magic could solve a problem like this.
“I see. Then let’s try it with one fruit first.”
Saying that, Jade handed me a single plum.
Then, he gently wrapped both his hands around mine, which held the fruit, and we ended up facing each other. It somehow turned into a pose where we were essentially holding both hands together.
…Close. Way too close.
It was necessary for transferring magical power, but this position was incredibly embarrassing and made my skin prickle.
Jade’s warm hands, right there. His face, so close. The faint breath I could feel.
Overwhelmed with sudden embarrassment for no reason, I found myself looking down.
“This is… really embarrassing, isn’t it…?”
“Ha ha. It really is.”
At my words, Jade laughed and agreed.
…Thank goodness. I wasn’t the only one feeling this way.
Reassured by his words, I cautiously looked up at Jade.
Our eyes met—his beautiful honey-colored ones.
Even now, they really were a stunningly beautiful color. Growing up in Japan, eye colors other than black or brown were rare for me to see, which might be part of why I thought so. …But somehow, that honey color seemed to reflect Jade’s kindness itself, the kind of color I could watch forever.
“Being stared at so intently just makes it more embarrassing, you know.”
It seemed I’d been gazing at him without even noticing. A slight blush spread across Jade’s cheeks, and he smiled shyly.
“S-Sorry. I just thought—what a beautiful eye color.”
“Really? My brothers and I all have the same eye color, so no one’s ever said that to me before.”
“It really is beautiful. Mine are just plain black, so…”
“Hm? That’s not right, is it?”
Jade tilted his head curiously, peering into my eyes.
“Your eyes are chestnut brown, Akane.”
“…Huh, really? I always thought they were black.”
“Really. …I think it’s a beautiful color.”
At that, my heart started pounding violently. Thump, thump—my own heartbeat suddenly deafening.
My ears, my face—burning hot. Surely bright red by now. Maybe it was because I wasn’t used to men saying things like that to me, but even knowing it was probably just flattery, those words made me genuinely happy.
“…Hehe. Thank you…”
So, with the biggest smile I could manage, I thanked him.
The moment Jade saw my expression, his eyes widened briefly. Then, wearing a strangely conflicted expression—suddenly, he pulled our joined hands sharply toward himself.
“Ah—”
—His face, suddenly so close.
—A soft sensation against my cheek.
“…!?”
Thoroughly flustered by the sudden turn of events, I instinctively stepped back, and our joined hands came apart.
The instant they did, the magical power that had been circulating between us burst outward all at once, releasing a brilliant rainbow-colored glow.
The phenomenon settled within a few moments, and the scenery around us returned to normal.
I’d been momentarily captivated by that fleeting, magical sight, but quickly snapped back to my senses and put some distance between myself and Jade.
“W-What do you think you’re doing!?”
The illustration’s description: Jade has kissed Akane.
At my outburst, Jade himself seemed unable to believe what he’d just done, standing frozen with a hand pressed over his mouth.
“…I’m sorry! You just looked so adorable, I couldn’t help it.”
Jade seemed genuinely flustered, staring off in some random direction, his face bright red.
—A-A-A-A-Adorable…!? And what do you mean, "couldn’t help it"!? What is even happening!?
At Jade’s answer, I was thoroughly thrown off balance, and my mind wandered off on an irrelevant tangent: sure, if I were a teenager, maybe, but calling a twenty-four-year-old "adorable"—what was that about!
While my head spun in confused circles, a fresh, fruity fragrance tickled my nose.
Opening my clenched palm, I found the fruit—which had been firm and green just moments ago—now yellow, with faint reddish tints scattered across its surface. It had turned soft and gentle to the touch too, and its slightly tart, fresh aroma was wonderfully fragrant.
But the sheer amount of that fragrance drifting through the air was far too much to be coming from just one fruit in my palm.
Glancing over at the wooden crate holding the rest of the plums, I saw those too had turned a beautiful yellow, tinged with red. It seemed that, in the confusion of our hands separating, the magical power that had scattered outward from us had washed over the remaining plums and ripened them all as well.
While I stood there staring blankly at the fruit in my hand—
“…Oh, they’ve ripened. I guess that means we’ve saved ourselves some trouble… though I’m not quite sure what to say about it.”
Jade’s voice suddenly came from right beside my ear, startling me so badly I nearly jumped clean off the ground. Without my noticing, he’d moved behind me and was looking at the fruit in my hand over my shoulder.
The instant I realized that, my sense of embarrassment threatened to explode entirely, throwing my mind into total chaos—so much so that I nearly dropped the plum right out of my hand.
—Waaaah! No! Stop!
I spun around sharply, grabbed Jade’s face with both hands, and squished it into a ridiculous expression.
Then I said one thing:
“S-Sexual harassment!!”
“Sekshuwal hawashmen?”
Jade, his face now looking distinctly octopus-like, couldn’t quite pronounce the word properly. Determined despite his handsome face being thoroughly ruined, I declared firmly:
“’Couldn’t help it,’ ‘adorable’—whatever, I don’t care about that! But if you do anything weird again without permission, I’m reporting you for harassment!!!”
Utterly baffled by my sudden outburst, Jade just blinked repeatedly, face still squished between my hands, completely lost.
Next, I changed my grip and pinched his cheeks instead, stretching them painfully wide as I lectured him on the meaning of sexual harassment, and how it’s rude to kiss someone—even just on the cheek—when you’re not even dating.
Once I let go, Jade’s cheeks were bright red, but I didn’t feel obligated to worry about that, so I turned pointedly away.
—I wish he’d stop messing with my heart so carelessly.
—Once my sister’s duty is over, I’m going home anyway.
—There’s nothing more painful than falling for someone you’ll never be able to see again.
—What is he even going to do about it, if I fall for him!?
Somehow swallowing down that internal scream, I crossed my arms and glared at Jade. …I just hoped at least some of my anger got through to him.
He looked stunned for a moment, but the instant my words registered, he burst out laughing loudly. Shoulders shaking with laughter, he answered with an amused, “All right.”
After that, I somehow managed to calm myself down and got back to work on the umeboshi.
That said, the process itself was simple enough.
All I had to do was sprinkle salt over the ripe plums, pack them into a barrel, put on the lid, and weigh it down.
And with that, the first stage of making umeboshi was complete.
After about three days, enough plum vinegar would seep out of the plums to submerge them. I would adjust the weight so that every plum stayed beneath the liquid, then leave them to pickle until early summer.
Then, all I had to do was pick a stretch of sunny weather and dry them in the sun for about three days. The umeboshi would be ready.
I was already looking forward to summer.
After that, Jade and I worked together to carry the jars of pickled plum wine and the umeboshi barrel to the pantry. It took about three trips back and forth before we finally finished storing everything.
By then, I was feeling pretty worn out, so I decided it was time for tea.
I set out two cushions in the coziest, sunniest spot on the veranda.
Between them, I placed a tray with a tea set.
For a snack, I brought out some lightly pickled spring cabbage with a touch of ginger.
As for the "tea"… it was actually last year’s plum wine, along with a ten-year-old batch my grandmother had made.
“Drinking at this hour?”
“Oh, come on, this is a taste test, a taste test. Before the new plum wine finishes pickling, I need to check what the older batches taste like. Oh, and there’s proper green tea too, don’t worry.”
I laughed a bit too theatrically, humming to myself as I got everything ready.
…Honestly, because of what had just happened, I couldn’t quite bring myself to look Jade in the face, and I definitely wanted a drink to cover that up—but there was no way I could actually admit that to him.
I dropped a few ice cubes into small glasses and poured in the plum wine. Last year’s batch had a beautiful amber color. I went ahead and added one of the plums from the bottle too.
The ten-year batch was darker, more of a tortoiseshell-brown color, like whiskey. Unlike the younger batch, it no longer contained any fruit.
First, the year-old one.
Taking a sip, I could feel a refreshing plum scent rising through my nose, along with a gentle sweetness.
Being young, it was light and didn’t have much depth yet. The sweetness came through first and foremost. A taste with plenty of promise ahead.
Next, the ten-year batch.
Even the viscosity was different from the start. Tilting the glass, the liquid slid down slowly, thick and syrupy.
The moment it settled thick on my tongue, an intense plum fragrance hit me. Such a concentrated plum flavor that it made my tongue tingle. The plum’s essence had melded completely with the rock sugar’s sweetness—a happy, blissful taste I wanted to keep savoring forever.
Riding that same wave, I picked up a piece of the pickled spring cabbage.
Biting into the spring cabbage gave a satisfying, crisp crunch. Having worked plenty of ginger and salt into it, it had quite a punch. Chewing, first came the ginger’s sharpness, followed by the cabbage’s sweetness catching up—a combination that never got old, making for an excellent tea companion.
Munching on it crisply, I thought to myself that last year’s plum wine really paired better with this.
The ten-year-old batch, on the other hand, was something I’d rather enjoy as the star of the show, perhaps while nibbling on some nuts.
“I don’t usually drink sweet alcohol, but this is quite good. …You eat the fruit too? Isn’t there poison?”
“It’s been pickled in alcohol, so the poison’s long gone by now.”
Since I had the chance, I decided to try one of the plums myself.
As I sank my teeth into the fruit, still moist with liquor, the first thing I tasted was the concentrated flavor of the alcohol. In fact, the alcoholic kick was even stronger than when drinking the plum wine itself. With every chew, the dizzying flavor of the alcohol mingled with the gentle sweetness of the rock sugar, making it feel as though I were eating plum wine rather than drinking it.
“Mm. Delicious!”
“It really is. This is its own kind of good… But why doesn’t the older bottle have any fruit in it?”
Jade peered curiously at the ten-year-old bottle.
“My grandmother used to say—if you leave the plums sitting in there indefinitely, they develop a bitter, harsh taste, and the liquid gets cloudy.”
There seemed to be differing opinions on the matter, but according to my grandmother, removing the plums after about a year and straining the wine once would make it keep much longer.
“So does that mean the fruit in that bottle gets thrown out too?”
“Yeah. I’ve been thinking it’s about time to pull them out, actually.”
—Clack, clack, clack!
…I thought I just heard a strange sound.
Curious, I glanced over at Jade, but he didn’t seem to have noticed anything.
I looked around a bit, just in case, but nothing seemed particularly out of place. If anything unusual caught my eye, it was just our dog, sprawled belly-up in the sun, sound asleep—a sight that made me want to interrogate it for an hour about canine instincts.
—Was I imagining it?
Puzzled, but with no way to figure out the cause no matter how much I thought about it, I ended up completely forgetting about the sound within a few hours.
◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇
A few days later, I brought along a small bottle of plum wine that hadn’t finished aging yet and headed to the market’s street-stall district.
The herb merchant, set up in his usual spot, spotted me approaching and broke into a pleased, sly grin.
“Well, well, well. Is that the drink in question?”
“It is. Here you go.”
The herb merchant, in his slightly theatrical manner of speaking, held out his hand eagerly, urging me to hurry. I handed over the bottle with a slightly wry smile.
“Ohh. My, my. Is this drinkable already?”
Turning it around in his hands, holding it up against the light, the herb merchant examined the bottle with obvious delight.
“Not yet. At least three months. If you want to drink it properly, you should wait half a year to a year.”
“Hmm.”
Only half-listening to my words, the herb merchant gently held out a hand over the bottle.
—In that instant.
The plums inside suddenly shriveled up all at once, losing their roundness. Furthermore, the liquid transformed from clear to amber, then further into a dark, tortoiseshell brown, and the volume decreased slightly.
“Hmm-hmm. About right, I’d say.”
—It looked exactly like the ten-year-old plum wine.
The herb merchant, having instantly aged the drink, poured it into a beautiful, faceted-cut blue glass he’d pulled from within his robe. The glass, sparkling in the sunlight, was about the size of his palm.
The herb merchant took a sniff, relaxed his face into a faint smile, and brought the glass to his lips.
The slightly viscous liquor swirled gently in the glass as he drank it.
Swallowing the drink, the herb merchant let out a deep, satisfied breath.
“Mm, mm. Ah. Delicious.”
He opened his thin eyes just slightly, his red irises gazing happily at the small remainder of liquor left in the glass.
“Do you have salted and sugar-preserved ones, too?”
“Those aren’t ready yet, so… I’ll bring them next time.”
“I see…”
The herb merchant murmured quietly, seemingly lost in the aftertaste, gazing at something far beyond where we stood.
Feeling like it was probably best to leave him be, I gave a small farewell to his silent, distant figure and turned to leave— when suddenly, he spoke:
“Ah. What a good feeling this is.”
The moment I heard the herb merchant’s strangely-toned voice—
—The bustle of the market grew distant.
—The movements of the people around us stopped entirely.
—The wind, the air… everything came to a halt.
Everything froze in place, left behind. As the world around faded into muted color—only the spot where I stood remained vividly, sharply alive.
“Thank you for bringing back such nostalgic memories. I’m truly delighted… allow me to properly repay you.”
After saying this, the herb merchant slowly rose to his feet. He had always been sitting down, so I’d never realized it before, but he was tall enough that I had to look up at him.
The herb merchant stepped effortlessly over the herbs and goods laid out across the cloth spread on the ground, and came to stand right in front of me.
Then, from within his robe, he produced a glass in a different color from the one he’d just used.
“This is a glass crafted in my homeland. Beautiful shade of red, isn’t it? I’ll give you one. Bring me the sugar-pickled and salt-pickled versions, and I’ll give you another.”
“…But you already sold me the chiko fruit for such a good price… that alone was more than enough, really.”
—Ah, how strange. Why am I so calm right now?
My mind wouldn’t move properly. Despite the sheer strangeness of the situation, some part of me simply accepted it as normal. A strange, floaty sensation, like being myself and yet not myself at all, had taken hold of me completely.
Hearing my words, the herb merchant gave a small laugh, and despite my refusal, took my hand and pressed the glass into it.
“What you’ve given me, miss, is far too much to be repaid with a simple discount. I’m genuinely grateful. Please, accept it.”
“But—”
“Miss.”
The herb merchant lifted my hand, still clutching the glass, and gently pressed it against his own cheek.
Then, with a nostalgic expression, he spoke at somewhat greater length:
“Back in my homeland, you see, we used to pickle the raw chiko fruit in alcohol just like this. A very long time ago, though. Did you know? The scent of chiko blossoms calls forth monsters. But it wasn’t always that way. —It’s an old, familiar sort of folktale. Some foolish man, through his own doing, incurred the wrath of a being beyond humanity, and the chiko tree was cursed as punishment. From that point on, the chiko trees, now drawing monsters, vanished from human villages entirely, growing only wild, deep within the forests. Hardly anyone foolish enough to venture that deep into the forest to gather the raw fruit remained. And so, the taste that man had once loved, the flavor of his homeland, gradually faded into obscurity.”
Laughing softly, the herb merchant released my hand and picked up the bottle of plum wine instead, holding its contents up lovingly toward the sunlight.
The tortoiseshell-colored liquor, catching the light, shifted between gold and amber—a genuinely beautiful sight.
“They say that whenever the man who committed the sin remembered his homeland, this was the color he saw. That’s how the story goes. Yes… Indeed. Sparkling, gentle—a warm sort of color …”
At that moment, as the herb merchant looked up at the bottle, his hood shifted slightly. What I glimpsed beneath it was a long, pointed ear adorned with a beautiful geometric-patterned earring.
“I’m glad I met you, miss. It’s been a long, long time since I’ve felt this good. So please, accept this. Here, look at this pattern engraved on the glass.”
Where the herb merchant pointed, there was a beautiful pattern shaped like a blooming flower.
“It’s modeled after the chiko blossom. A traditional pattern from my homeland. Engraved onto glasses given as gifts, wishing happiness upon the person receiving them.”
—From somewhere far away, the noise of the market reached my ears.
—A faint breeze brushed against my skin.
—Color was beginning to return to the world around me.
“I give you this, so that happiness may find you. Please, take good care of it.”
Before I knew it, I found myself simply standing there.
In front of me, at his stall, sat the herb merchant, hood pulled deep as always. The market, as ever, was noisy and crowded with people.
The herb merchant, cradling the bottle of clear liquor, sat hunched over as usual, no longer looking my way.
I turned around and made my way back through the crowd, just as I always did.
Somehow, I felt as if I’d been bewitched by a fox spirit.
Even when I glanced back once, the herb merchant I could see through the gaps in the crowd was simply sitting on the ground as usual, right where he belonged.
—And yet.
My right hand, somehow already tucked into my pocket, was clutching a small, faceted glass.
Tracing my finger over its smooth, textured surface, I found myself thinking back over that strange, otherworldly stretch of time.
I found myself wanting to hear more of the story of his homeland.
Perhaps some distant, long-ago memory, something precious to him.
—Would he tell me more someday? I hope he will.
I glanced up quietly at the thin clouds drifting across the spring sky. I decided I’d come back again, once the plum syrup was ready.
