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"···I think He really is an angel."

"···."

"He spread a map in front of me and told me about the native tribes, beasts, and terrain around here. It was far more accurate than what my father investigated for years. How is that possible!"

"···."

"Besides, He seems to be all alone, yet that huge farm, the fences, all those mysterious machines—how could He··· It makes no sense unless He's an angel···!"

"Mrs. Dare, you are overexcited. Eat this first and think."

"Ah, thank you.

...Mmm, it's sweet."

While Eleanor furrowed her brow and savored the flavor of the Shine Muscat, Mr. Hewet the lawyer opened his mouth.

"It's incredibly sweet."

"Right! This too must surely be a fruit of heaven!"

"I suppose Columbus thought the same when he first tasted pineapple."

"...Ah."

"Please calm yourself. These grapes are indeed sweet and fragrant... and... uh... delicious..."

"They really are delicious."

"...Yes, it is true that they are 'truly' delicious, but that alone is not enough to conclude that the owner of those grapes is an angel."

"But they're seedless?"

"Well, nature is mysterious, is it not...?"

Mr. Hewet seemed slightly flustered. As those around them began to murmur that such delicious grapes must be a fruit of heaven, Mr. Hewet hurriedly calmed them.

"At any rate, did 'He' ever say He was an angel Himself?"

"...No."

"You see. If we ask the savages around here, they probably know something about 'Him.' Such a magnificent farm couldn't have been built by one person overnight."

That was true.

"Whether He received help in building the farm or asked for permission, there must be some connection, so we will find an answer."

"But when we came here last year, none of this existed. Does it make sense for such a farm to appear in just one year?"

"...That just shows how extraordinary 'He' is. Come to think of it, we don't even know His name."

"..."

"Let us not jump to conclusions."

At the lawyer's words, everyone in the tent was nodding before they knew it. Once the Governor's daughter and the lawyer's discussion seemed to reach a conclusion, everyone focused on picking up and eating the grapes again.

Chup chup chup.

Chap chap chap.

And everyone, including Eleanor, thought:

'...No matter what, this really is a fruit of heaven.'

Gulp.

"Everyone. And Eleanor?"

"Ah, yes!"

"The logging is finished, so please come out."

They had all been anxious about the thunderous roar of that thing called a 'chainsaw,' and He also seemed reluctant to show them the process of using it, so when He was logging, everyone had gathered and sat in the tents.

And when they stepped outside the tents.

"Well, is this enough?"

"...Ah, yes, it is."

Eleanor realized she still hadn't grown used to the sight.

Dozens of trees felled overnight.

'He,' who had finished in an instant a logging task that thirty men couldn't complete even if they worked all day, looked around with a relaxed face and said.

"Well then, since the lumber has been roughly procured, we can build a village around here."

Those words became the signal. The settlers began to move, each gathering their tools.

The sound of hammering echoed throughout the forest.

It was the sound of the first English settlement being built on Croatoan Island.

***

I was gradually beginning to adapt to the climate of this region.

North Carolina (not yet) wasn't dramatically different from Korea in climate. However, autumn and winter were a bit warmer, and instead of having a monsoon season, rain fell evenly throughout the year.

...So is that bad?

No, rather, it's good.

Why do East Asian countries like Japan, Korea, and China pour their energy into producing luxury grapes like Shine Muscat and Ruby Roman?

Why do they dedicate so much zeal and effort to managing the trees and fruit—defoliating and pruning—unlike Europe or America, where they farm roughly and call it a day?

Because the climate is fucking awful.

Since they can't produce much anyway, they have to sell what little they make at a high price.

It's the same for other fruits, but especially grapes—if there's a lot of water, that moisture goes straight to the fruit. If there's a lot of water around, the taste becomes bland for no reason.

So much so that water management is crucial in grape farming.

That's also why I'm reducing the amount of water I give now, right before harvest.

And in East Asia, the monsoon comes around July and August, right when the fruit is setting.

Moreover, the soil is clayey, so the ground holds a lot of water.

It means there is a lot, a lot of water.

There's an old saying that you can survive a three-year drought but not three months of monsoon—I'm exactly like that.

I feel like I'm going to die whenever it rains.

First of all, when the monsoon comes, photosynthesis is blocked, so you have to adjust fertilizer management accordingly.

If there's a lot of water during the monsoon, the fruit bursts because of the excess moisture.

Then when the heat comes after that, they burst again from the heat.

Thanks to the humidity, mold and all sorts of pests and diseases come as a set.

And all of this happens right before harvest.

Unless you're trying to kill the tree with leaf scorch (a phenomenon where leaves necrotize and turn blackish-brown when the weather suddenly turns hot in a humid climate), you need to give it water, but if you're not making water grapes, you need to reduce the water?

What the hell? Why is it acting like a client demanding a design that's simple yet ornate, modern yet traditional, when it's just a grape?

Why does this tiny hellfire peninsula have so many handicaps in the first place? Was Grandfather Dangun some crazy rabbit princess who enjoyed hard mode?

...By comparison, there is no monsoon in this beautiful North Carolina.

The annual rainfall is even, and the weather is mild.

Of course, terrible calamities like Pierce's disease and phylloxera mites are lurking, but since my trees are resistant, I can rest easy for now.

Aside from that, this place is... a grape farmer's heaven.

Oh, America.

My heart swelling with a massive American high, I happily spread fertilizer. Eat up. Eat well and grow fast so you can be supplied to department stores...

Ah, the first department store won't be built for another 264 years.

Now, grape farming is just a hobby to me.

I still can't let go because I begrudge the facility investment I poured into three 500-pyeong greenhouses, but someday, for survival, I'll probably have to abandon even this sort of grape farming.

...It brings me to tears. I finally came to the grape farmer's heaven, only for the grapes to become useless.

Anyway.

Aside from the approximately 10,000 surplus grape bunches growing without demand, everything is flowing according to plan.

Several temporary cabins for the English were built in just a few days. Thanks to my help with the logging.

The English, who had been huddled together in the farmhouse and tents, gradually began moving their household goods into the houses they had built.

Since they couldn't just keep being a burden, they soon began hunting and foraging among themselves to procure their own food. Some even brought me what they had caught in the valley as gifts.

Of course, I didn't accept them.

It was a hassle to cook them, and it wasn't yet time to make them pay back the debt they owed me.

Instead of refusing the gifts, I offered them a few more grape bunches, and the English were so moved that some even shed tears as they left.

It was still difficult to fully trust them, so when I slept, I locked the door and kept a machete and chainsaw beside me... but they showed no signs of hostility toward me.

I had considered that they might come to kill me and plunder my property.

But in reality, there was no one to maintain this farm but me, and no one to help them. And they seemed well aware of that fact.

And so began the friendly symbiotic relationship between the English settlers and me.

This was the situation I, who had 'fallen' onto this land alone, had wished for most.

As long as I have some thirty friendly Englishmen, neither natives nor other colonists will be able to touch me easily.

But since nearly ten of those thirty-odd people are children, I can't let my guard down relying solely on them.

To guarantee my safety, I need to approach from a different direction. Namely...

"You're back, Eleanor. How did it go?"

"The tribes of this island said they would accept us! They said we may settle on this island!"

A diplomatic approach.

Eleanor, whom I had sent to the natives, returned with positive news.

I inwardly rejoiced and slowly nodded.

The reason they came here was because of the friendly tribes of this place. Through the English, I had indirectly secured the freedom to remain here as well.

"Manteo said that since they weren't planning to stay on this land forever anyway, it wouldn't matter if we settled here!"

"That is good."

If you mean Manteo, he was the first Native American to become an Anglican. The son of this island's chief who resolved to travel to England and interact with the English.

"But he wondered, you know? He asked why we chose this narrow, swampy island."

"It may seem that way. But Eleanor, must you not wait for your father's relief ship on the coast of this island?"

"...Well, yes."

"..."

"..."

What?

At the sudden silence, I turned my head and stared, only to see Eleanor, her face flushed red, whip her head away. Ah, was it rude to stare at a woman like this in this era?

Even after I belatedly realized my rudeness and averted my gaze, Eleanor's silence continued. When I glanced at her, she was looking at me with somehow meaningful eyes.

An expression as if she was trying to see right through me.

She looked deep in thought.

***

...The man before her.

Just what is his true identity?

Is he a prince from the lands of Asia? An angel? Or merely a handsome, wealthy Easterner?

How does he know English? How is he so well-versed in the state of Europe? How does he predict the date when my father will return? What are all these massive farms, complex machines, and those facilities?

Eleanor cautiously asked.

Why.

Why he chose this narrow island that was nothing but swamps.

How he came to settle here, and what his identity was.

But the man did not answer. He merely stared at her intently.

She had wanted to ask many things already. But after meeting Manteo, her curiosity had only doubled.

...Eleanor recalled her meeting with Manteo.

As she approached the village, Manteo welcomed her and her party with a glad face. When he asked if they had come to seek refuge, she said no. She said they had come to ask permission to settle.

"...The majority of your party are women and children, are they not? How do you intend to settle?"

"As you know, there is a huge grape farm just ahead? We have taken refuge with its owner."

"...I beg your pardon?"

Manteo's face hardened.

"A grape farm, you say? There is no such thing."

"But in that forest, there is clearly a huge settlement..."

"We searched that forest just about two weeks ago, and it was quiet until then. If there had been a 'huge' settlement, we would have found it first!"

"W-what?"

Fortunately, no other members of her party were present. Only Manteo, his mother the chief, and Eleanor were there.

"My mother says she knows nothing of it either. Are you certain you truly saw such a farm?"

"...What are you saying? You mean you didn't know such a farm had been built? Even though it's your homeland?"

Hearing Eleanor's words, Manteo fell into deep thought, then picked up a single grape from Eleanor's hand.

They were the grapes the man had sent to be given as gifts to Manteo and the tribespeople.

"I too have never seen such grapes in my life. Hup... It's delicious. May I have another?"

"By all means."

"At any rate, I have never seen anything like this anywhere."

"..."

...So it was.

Eleanor did not know who the man before her was, or where he had come from.

She only knew that he was friendly for now.

"...Um, this question may sound foolish right now."

"What is it? Please ask me anything comfortably."

"..."

Without realizing it, Eleanor closed and opened her eyes, then spoke with effort.

"What is your name?"

At those words, the man fell silent for a moment... then opened his mouth.

"Nemo."

"...Excuse me?"

"Call me that."

"Ah, yes. Mr. Nemo."

And then.

"...Ah, I forgot I had one thing to ask of you."

"Ah, yes?"

"Do you see these grapes here? What do you think?"

"Uh... that there are lots and lots of them?"

"And?"

"That they are very well ripened?"

"Exactly."

'Nemo' snapped his fingers and smiled at Eleanor.

"Please help me with the harvest."

And so Eleanor and the settlers, without knowing why, took up scissors and set out to harvest grapes.

"...How many in total?"

"Hahaha! They look like a lot, but they aren't actually that many.

It's about 10,000 bunches."