IRER 61

Chapter 61

Something Difficult

Was this excitement? Or was it nerves?

Brody waited for the evening with an anxious heart.

“I don’t really know… how to do that sort of thing.”

It was only natural—this was her first time.

Well, perhaps in her previous life she’d experienced something similar once, back in elementary school.

But that was nothing like this.

“Maybe it’s more like a freshman orientation party. But even then, I just sat around drinking in boredom… At least then, I could just exist as ‘Student #1.’ But now? Now I’m someone people will actually be watching.”

—My lady, we’d like to hold a welcome party for you this evening. Would you be able to attend?

Her dilemma had begun with Connie’s invitation.

Connie and the other women—former prisoners like her—had asked her to attend, saying they wanted to welcome her properly.

She had no problem stepping into the spotlight when it came to work. In that case, it was simple—you just worked. She always knew what she needed to do.

But at a party? What was she supposed to do there? At least when she was just a background participant, she could slip quietly into a corner and then slip away unnoticed. But if she was the guest of honor… what then?

“Playing around is too hard.”

Brody let out a long sigh.

Still, she didn’t want to refuse Connie’s invitation.

She was genuinely curious—and concerned—about how these women were living now, if they were doing well. After all, they had once risked their lives together, bonded by a fleeting but fierce comradeship.

“Alright. Just think of it as seeing their faces. A simple greeting will take up enough time. Don’t get nervous. Don’t—ugh, why does this feel more nerve-wracking than explaining potato cultivation?”

And so, while she fretted, evening arrived.

“Are you going?”

Brody looked at Aidan, who spoke up again.

Thankfully, because of her promise to the women, the awkwardness between her and Aidan had eased just a little.

“Yes. Didn’t you say you’d be dining with your knights, Your Grace?”

“Mm.”

He gave her a look—as if to ask whether she really had to go.

“As I thought. There was a reason he struck up conversation with me.”

She knew he was worried something might happen. But she ignored his silent question with a silent answer of her own.

“Always worrying…”

If anyone tried something malicious, Brody was confident she could at least survive. If someone attacked her with a weapon, she could bind them with vines. If they tried to poison her, she could simply concoct an antidote in her own mouth.

It was hard to believe anyone there could outmatch her in assassination or herbcraft—if they’d had such skills, they wouldn’t have stayed prisoners in the first place.

The worst-case scenario was that her identity as a plant-sorceress might be exposed.

“But with a little effort, I can cover that too. Besides, I’ve got my trusty ‘Dreamleaf’ with me.”

No, what worried her more than danger was the problem of how to have fun.

“Well then, I’ll be off.”

She didn’t show any of that anxiety to Aidan. Not because she didn’t want to worry him—but simply because that wasn’t her way.

Still, Aidan couldn’t shake his concern and made as if to follow.

“Perhaps I should come with you after all—”

“Do you want to be the only man among sixty women?”

“I’d stay in the corner. Quietly. Like a mouse.”

“….”

Good grief. If the Grand Duke of the Icewall sat in the corner of a hall, silently watching sixty former captives, what kind of party atmosphere would that be?

Brody’s pointed look said as much, and Aidan drooped his shoulders, realizing she was right.

And so they parted—Brody heading to the women’s hall, Aidan to the men’s.

The so-called banquet halls were really just multi-purpose common rooms, built to be used for feasts one day, meetings the next. Simple, modest—closer to a village town hall than any noble ballroom.

In… out… in… out…

At the door, Brody steadied her breathing.

Composing her face into calm, but clenching her heart tight, she knocked on the door.

“…Strange. Why is it so quiet?”

She expected the door to open right away, but it stayed firmly shut.

After a long pause, just as she raised her hand to knock again—

Creeeeak.

The door slowly opened.

“Connie?”

But inside was only darkness. She couldn’t see a thing.

Before she could make sense of it, a strong hand shot out of the dark.

“Ah!”

It grabbed her and yanked her into the hall. The door shut heavily behind her.

Bang.

“Um… Connie? Everyone?”

Her eyes hadn’t adjusted, so she couldn’t see at all.

She swallowed nervously.

And then—

Bang!

The sound was like an air rifle going off, and Brody flinched.

A gun? Surely not a gun?!

But instead of bullets, drops of liquid splashed across her. They smelled faintly sweet and sour.

Fwssh!

At the same time, lights flared one by one, candles blazing to life from near to far.

Brody’s wide pupils shrank in the sudden brightness—

“Waaahhh!”

—just in time to see the hall full of cheering women.

They lit candles together, and Connie and a few others popped bottles of sparkling drink, spraying the contents all around—including all over Brody.

Droplets glittered like jewels in the air.

Brody could only gape.

“Welcome, my lady!”

“We’re so glad you came!”

“To see you again is such a joy!”

“Waaaah!”

Hands tugged her forward and sat her at the prepared place of honor—decorated with evergreen branches, red berries, and white winter blossoms.

The women gathered in a circle around her, clapping and cheering until the hall grew hot with excitement.

Brody’s cheeks quickly flushed under all the gazes.

The cheers eventually died down, and the women turned expectantly to her.

Which only made her more nervous.

“I… I have to say something now, don’t I?”

Swallowing hard, she managed to open her mouth.

“Um, th-thank you for… letting me join you?”

Letting me join you? She winced inside. She wasn’t some outcast begging to be included—so why had she said something like that?

Awkwardly, she forced a smile.

Connie clapped her on the shoulder with a hearty laugh.

“Letting you join us? No, no—that’s what we should be saying to you!”

“That’s right!”

“Exactly!”

The women laughed and agreed with Connie.

“Enough speeches—let’s drink! We’ve all suffered enough. Tonight, we enjoy ourselves!”

“Oh my, Connie, really? You’re letting us cut loose?”

“Just for tonight! Tomorrow, scold me if you like. But tonight, we drain the barrels!”

“Woo! Better make the most of it while she’s giving us permission!”

“Tomorrow doesn’t exist!” someone wailed dramatically, and laughter rang out.

Brody looked around as mugs and cups were raised.

Their hands were rough, their faces streaked with smudges like plaster dust. Every skin was sun-darkened, every head of hair tied up for practicality. Yet tonight, they wore clean, pretty clothes—different from the rags of captivity.

Her chest tightened. It was both bittersweet and heartwarming. Unknowingly, she smiled.

“Here, my lady! You must drink too—cheers!”

A woman pressed a cup into her hand and filled it to overflowing.

As the liquid sloshed down her fingers, the woman suddenly said:

“Oh, right—before we toast, my lady, please give our village a name.”

“Yes! It’s just a temporary camp, no name yet. It would be an honor if you named it.”

Brody blinked. A name? Out of nowhere?

“Am I even allowed to do that?”

“Who else but you, the one who gave us potatoes? Even His Grace wouldn’t object.”

Their expectant faces pushed her into quick thinking.

One word flashed in her mind. Maybe this would work.

“Potato… No, Poteto Village. How’s that?”

It was simple, easy to say, and sounded rather cute.

The women murmured it to themselves—Poteto, Poteto—nodding.

“What does it mean?” one asked.

Ah. Well. It was basically just English for “potato,” shortened and borrowed.

But then a flash of inspiration struck.

“It’s the scholarly name for potatoes. It means just that—potato. Doesn’t it sound lovely and easy to pronounce?”

Wow. I guess I’ve got some quick wit after all.

She answered calmly, with a steady smile.

“Oooh! The scholarly name!”

The women buzzed with delight. They clearly liked it.

Well, in this world, there’s never been a potato before—so of course there’s no scholarly name. But now? From today, there is. And I just made it up. Ha!

Connie clapped her hands decisively.

“Perfect! What better name could there be for our village?”

“Wonderful!”

“Agreed! Potato Village—Poteto!”

“Poteto!”

“Poteto!”

They chanted the name with gusto.

Then Connie raised her cup high, climbing onto a chair.

“Alright! First toast—to the endless prosperity of Poteto Village!”

“Cheers!”

“Cheers!”

Cups clashed and laughter rang out.

Brody raised her cup with them.

“Let’s become the greatest granary of the North!”

“Hurrah! Let’s get rich!”

Their enthusiasm was genuine. Hopes blazed boldly in their voices, tangible in the air.

Watching them, Brody felt her heart swell with a quiet joy.

The flickering yellow candlelight, the ruby glow of fruit wine, the rosy flush on round cheeks, the music-like hum of chatter—

It all felt like a dream.

She had never expected this. Never even imagined such a thing.

Back then, she had done it only to survive one more day. She had never dreamed of this outcome.

Yet here it was. Proof that all her fears and struggles had been worth it.

“So effort can return even more than you give.”

Her nose stung. She blamed the wine and drank deeply.

Cheers erupted again around her.

“Khh—”

The northern liquor burned strong. Heat rushed through her veins as she wrinkled her nose.

Her cup was quickly refilled.

Connie laughed, watching her, then quieted her voice.

“Now, for the second toast.”

The change in her tone brought a hush over the hall. Silence, heavy and reverent, settled.

And Connie’s voice filled it.

“For the second toast—let us raise our cups to our lady.”