"Quite bold of you, to have gone and taste-tested like that."
The landlord addressed the brazen girl who had appeared before him. The farmers guffawed.
"Hey, are you serious?"
The paper-craftsmen watched Maomao with worried expressions. Yabu was so overcome that he fell into a daze and collapsed right there on the floor. Just before his head hit the ground, his nephew caught him.
"No concern of mine. But tell me — how much debt remains?"
"…A thousand silver coins per year. We've paid half this year, so… four thousand five hundred remain."
Hmm. That wasn't the sort of sum a moneylender would hand over lightly.
They might have been official suppliers, but their craft wasn't suited to mass production, and money didn't come easily.
"I see."
Maomao plopped down into a chair.
"Since we're here, shall we make a wager?"
"A wager, eh? You're really going for it."
The landlord was clearly supremely confident in his sake, treating the whole thing as a joke.
"And what exactly do you have to bet?"
"Well, it's what I've been gesturing at this whole time."
Maomao gave her own chest a light pat.
"If you sold me to a procurer, you could get three hundred, at least."
One after another, the men choked and sputtered, spraying sake everywhere.
"Ha ha ha ha! Three hundred, you say? Now that's quite the boast, little lady. Do you even know what things are actually worth?"
She knew exactly what things were worth — that was precisely why she'd said it. Did they have any idea how many girls she'd seen sold off?
"Even the finest beauty wouldn't fetch a hundred, and yet, and yet…"
He seemed to have hit his stride, spitting and laughing all at once. The sake had gone to his head, which only made things more convenient.
Watching them, Maomao let out a small laugh.
At the unmistakable mockery in it, half the drunk men glared at Maomao.
"Well, it's obvious you wouldn't get even fifty silver for a dirty daikon just handed over covered in mud. You don't even know that much?"
Maomao's body lurched violently. She was grabbed by the scruff of the neck, forced onto her tiptoes.
The man had clearly understood that daikon was a dig at the country girl.
"Say that again, will you?!"
One of the farmers, his face bright red, lunged at Maomao. His raised fist was covered in scabs darkened by dirt — if that landed, it would do real damage.
(She probably deserved to get hit for that.)
But backing down here wasn't an option.
Yabu was already sprawled on the floor, and the papermakers had gone pale.
"You can barely read or write. Heh, well then I suppose you'll never use paper in your entire life."
The hand that moved to strike never landed on Maomao.
"Stop right there. If she's damaged goods, her value drops, doesn't it?"
At the landlord's words, one of the farmers released Maomao.
The landlord said her value would drop.
That meant he had taken her bet.
"Now then, who shall we start with?"
The stunned papermakers stared blankly at Maomao.
The restaurant owner and his wife looked on nervously.
Yabu was still lying in a heap on the floor.
And then—
"I'll be the first one to take you on!"
It was the man who had lunged at Maomao.
How wonderfully convenient.
How many empty sake bottles were rolling across the floor?
And the brutes who had crumpled to the floor numbered four — now a fifth had fallen.
"…You're kidding, right?"
It was the nephew of Yabu — who was busy tending to the unconscious Yabu — who spoke in a flat, exasperated tone.
"Oh my, is it over already?"
Maomao gulped down the last of the sake left in her cup. It was a distilled spirit that burned the throat. Far too fine a drink for a backwoods eatery like this. But for Maomao, who was accustomed to drinking something far stronger, it was nothing special.
Their mistake had been bringing out a high-proof distilled liquor in hopes of crushing Maomao quickly. The men, unaccustomed to that strength of alcohol, kept passing out one after another. They were sprawled out, but they shouldn't die from it. More importantly, Maomao had no intention of going easy — getting herself sold off was not an option.
"One hundred and fifty."
That was the price she'd been told her life was worth.
She'd originally asked for three hundred in silver, so she supposed that would have to do.
Incidentally, the slave dealer who wanted to buy her could acquire village girls for around twenty in silver.
With that as her starting pot, she'd beaten the first man. Then a second challenger stepped up. Thinking he must have already been drunk from the start, Maomao downed a cup of the strong liquor in one go and knocked him out.
The third, the fourth — they kept coming. The residue of sake from the previous rounds was still in the cups, putting Maomao at a disadvantage. That was common sense, but unfortunately, Maomao exceeded every expectation.
*(That makes five.)*
One-fifty for the first, three hundred for the second, six hundred for the third. With five total, Maomao's cut came to two thousand four hundred in silver.
Whether they understood this or not, the brutes glared at her with faces flushed crimson.
They still had half their supply left, but for Maomao, winning just one more round would settle things. The remaining debt was four thousand five hundred, wasn't it?
It was fortunate that the opponents were drunk. She'd had them scrawl down simple IOUs and promissory notes while they were rambling — five slips in hand. They probably thought those notes were just scraps of paper. The great landowner above them was clearly planning to nullify the whole thing.
As they groaned and twisted their faces in frustration, the real man at last picked up a sake bottle.
"Shall we have a go?"
The bearded landlord was smiling, but his eyes were sharp.
Maomao rubbed her belly.
*(Can I manage this?)*
Facing five men's worth of liquor was starting to take its toll, even for her.
The landlord, who drank distilled spirits regularly, clearly had a strong head for alcohol. Seeing Maomao looking a bit strained, he laughed as he glanced over the IOU.
"Don't lump me in with these losers."
She scribbled a hasty signature and slapped the document onto the table.
"I'll have the slave dealer come by tomorrow, so don't forget."
"I'm well aware of that."
Resigned to the situation, Maomao pulled a small bottle from her robe.
"Hey! What is that?!"
The landlord's lackeys lunged forward.
"I've grown tired of the taste of this sake, so I was just thinking I'd change it up a bit."
So saying, Maomao poured the contents of the small bottle glug by glug into the cup of swirling amber liquid.
The landlord flinched at the sight.
"Hold on a moment. If that's the case, fix me up a cup too."
At his words, Maomao handed the small bottle to the landlord. The landlord stared at it intently, then poured every last drop into his cup.
"It's not some kinda medicine that makes it harder to get drunk, is it?"
The man grinned, but Maomao simply downed her cup with an expressionless face.
The landlord watched to confirm that Maomao had finished drinking and still wore a sober face, then grinned and tipped back his own cup. He gulped it down, gulp by gulp, and then——
He collapsed.
His lackeys rushed over to lift him up, but he was completely limp.
"Hey! What did you slip in?!"
"Slip in or not, I drank the very same thing myself."
The reason for his collapse was nothing other than the sake itself.
"I'd say the bet is mine to win."
"......"
As everyone stood dumbstruck, Maomao rose to her feet and picked up the promissory note. Without so much as a wobble, she handed it to the papermaker, then stepped up before the restaurant proprietress.
"
Restroom—
where is it?"
"Out the door and to the right."
"Thank you very much."
Maomao broke into a light jog as she headed for the privy.
When you've emptied that many sake bottles, a trip to the privy becomes inevitable.
Even Maomao couldn't stand the embarrassment of wetting herself in front of others.
"Hey, you. What did you do?"
The paper craftsman folded the deed's paper neatly as he spoke.
"Nothing much. I just added some medicinal alcohol to change the taste of the sake."
Maomao often kept herbs and medical instruments tucked in the collar of her kimono. Medicinal alcohol was among them.
Since it was meant for disinfection, its concentration was nothing like ordinary sake. Any normal person would have collapsed after a single sip, yet the landlord had gulped it down glass after glass.
"...Could I ask you one thing?"
"What is it?"
"You were drinking that medicinal stuff too, weren't you?"
He said this with a slightly strained expression.
"Yes. I knew that much would still be tolerable. I was just hoping it would end quickly."
She had gambled that if she performed some suspicious act, the other side would take the bait. Fortunately, they played along nicely.
She probably could have won playing it straight, but honestly, she wasn't sure she could hold her bladder that long.
"I'm glad I made it to the privy in time."
"...That's all well and good. But I don't think much of betting your own body as collateral, no matter how confident you were. Especially not on our behalf."
"Is there some sort of misunderstanding here?"
Maomao took the folded deed from the craftsman.
"This is my share."
Maomao flashed a small smile.
"Wha— wait, miss!"
As the craftsman stood dumbfounded, Yabu finally came to his senses.
"Come on, don't say something so heartless."
"Be that as it may, I don't owe you that much. Besides, the deal isn't fully settled yet."
When Maomao glanced aside, there was the landlord, swaying as he borrowed a hand from his subordinate to haul himself upright, one hand pressed to his spinning head.
Judging from the vomit scattered across the floor, he had thrown up and forced himself back to something resembling sobriety. The shopkeeper wore a sour expression.
"Perhaps you should have stayed in bed a little longer?"
"That bet is void!"
Oh my, exactly the reaction she had predicted.
"It was just a bit of after-dinner entertainment. I was never serious about it from the start."
"But we have a written agreement right here. It's in your own hand on a promissory note — are you going to tell me you can't read your own writing either?"
"What do I know about that sort of thing! Void, I say — void!"
Maomao folded her arms, then walked over to the sake barrels lined up along the wall of the eatery with a resigned air.
"Then I'm afraid I have no choice."
She gave the sake barrel a couple of pats.
"I'll have no option but to report to the authorities that you've been evading taxes."
At Maomao's words, everyone fell silent.
The landlord's jaw dropped open, and the farmers who were still conscious visibly panicked.
The eatery owners looked a little uneasy, but at the same time wore expressions of relief.
The papermakers exchanged glances, then turned to look at Maomao.
Yabu simply tilted his head.
"Evading taxes — what are you talking about?"
The first to speak was the defiant eldest son.
"Producing sake requires permission from the province. If it were just for personal enjoyment, that might be one thing, but when you're wholesale supplying it to shops like this, it's unquestionably subject to the sake tax."
When it came to running a business, there was always some amount of tax involved. And tax rates tended to be highest on luxury goods. The tax on a sake shop was higher than that on an eatery, and when it came to brothels, the rate skyrocketed. The shrewd old woman who ran things was always grumbling about it.
She had wondered why this particular shop had agreed to lend the landlord a venue for negotiations. She had considered the possibility of a tenant relationship, but what had caught her eye even more was this massive quantity of sake.
If a shop could procure large amounts of cheap, reasonably tasty sake, that would be a godsend. No matter how much of a nuisance it might be, they couldn't just ignore it.
She figured this was the reason the landlord hadn't ordered this unfiltered sake when he first called for a drink. He had the farmers making the sake for him. There was no reason to order here the same stale drink he'd grown tired of.
"Could it be that you've also been skimming off the ingredients for the sake?"
Sake required large quantities of rice and barley. This particular sake appeared to be made with rice.
She suddenly recalled the landlord's earlier accusation.
"It's because you people pollute the water that rice yields have dropped. There isn't enough water to grow rice."
Maomao mulled this over.
"Isn't that a lie? If anything, the rice has been coming in better than before, hasn't it?"
Rice farming relied on water flowing from upstream carrying nutrients from decomposed leaves and soil, which kept the soil from becoming depleted. Never mind poisoning people—what leached into the water from papermaking was paste made from rice and other ingredients, along with wood shavings that formed the basis of the paper. If anything, these served as beneficial fertilizer, Maomao reasoned.
Could this be why the previous landlord had opted for a land sale rather than a rental agreement?
They may not have understood what was causing it, but the rice harvest had undoubtedly increased. He must have judged that keeping her here for a long time would prove useful going forward.
She then made her own assumption that at some point, someone had begun skimming off the surplus harvest and turning it into sake or the like. Double tax evasion was a fairly serious offense.
She kept silent about how far her deductions had gone, since it went against her father's teachings, but judging from the expressions on the landlord's and farmers' faces, she didn't seem to be wrong.
"W-Well, do you have any proof?"
One of the farmers spoke up.
"That's right! Do you have proof?!"
Others echoed in agreement.
"There's no need to worry. If you're innocent, then even if officials search your homes, they won't find anything."
Maomao said this with a deliberately bright smile plastered on her face.
The farmers who had been energetically protesting fell silent. She had struck a nerve.
"You're getting awfully bold, young lady."
The landlord said this while still holding his throbbing head.
"Did you really think you could pull a stunt like that for free?"
"I'll throw those very words right back at you. At the very least, take a good look at the situation you're in right now."
Maomao positioned herself so that she was looking down on the landlord.
Half of his men had collapsed from the drink and couldn't move—the landlord himself was no different. As for the rest, they hadn't fallen over, but they had drunk quite a bit. Sober was not a word you could use to describe any of them.
In contrast, her side had six clear-headed, sturdy men. Yabu was combat-ineffective, so he wasn't counted from the start.
The restaurant owners seemed to want to remain as uninvolved as possible. They would no doubt prefer to pretend they had never known about the sake, either.
I had no intention of settling things with violence, but if the other side wanted it that way, I wouldn't hold back.
The papermakers had surely been driven to their wits' end by the repeated false accusations.
Maomao flashed an exceedingly vulgar grin and flicked the document lightly against the landlord's cheek.
"You're welcome to call for help, you know. In exchange, we'll be sending a rider to the magistrate's office."
Maomao sang the words in a cheerful lilt.
"Hey, young lady, something about you feels different from usual, doesn't it?"
Yabu muttered that under his breath.
Just then, the front door of the eatery burst wide open.
Wondering what was going on, Maomao saw a young woman standing in the doorway in a neat kimono. The moment she took in the scene inside, her face went white. It seemed she would rush over to the collapsed landlord, but instead she dropped to her knees and bowed her head.
"I understand Father has made unreasonable demands again. But please, stop this unjust treatment."
She bowed deeply.
Not toward Maomao—she was bowing to the papermakers.
"No, it's not us who—"
The second son shook his head, but the young woman kept her forehead pressed to the floor, not caring that her hair had come undone.
"I'm sorry. Please forgive us. Please forgive my foolish father."
She couldn't hear anything around her; she just kept apologizing over and over. Then the one who moved was the sharp-tongued eldest son.
"Ain't gonna happen. From your old man."
He gently put his arm around her shoulders, calmed her, and helped her raise her head. Tears still streaming down her face, the young woman looked up at the eldest son and gave a small nod.
Seeing this, the one who flew into a rage was the landlord.
"Hey! Don't you lowlifes dare come near my daughter!"
He screamed and tried to get up, but his legs were still wobbly, and he tumbled back onto the floor.
"Father!"
"Father-in-law!"
"I never meant to become your father!"
What was with this atmosphere?
The second son regarded his brothers with a look of utter exasperation.
"So this is what's been going on…?"
"More or less, I believe you've guessed correctly."
He felt he now understood two things: why the eldest son sided with the farmers, and why the landlord was so eager to drive out outsiders.
Understanding was all well and good, but he wished he hadn't known.
The sort of exchanges
that might appear in some farcical
comedy were playing out right before his eyes, and honestly, he had no desire to describe any of it.
"Big brother's just that devoted, you know."
"And if that devotion got a whole village wiped out, that'd be a real problem."
Maomao spoke on behalf of all the paper crafters. She nodded along. He'd thought bringing the eldest son to this meeting in the first place was a mistake, but on further reflection, he'd forgotten the man was Yaubu's own kin.
If he was Yaubu's kin, there was nothing to be done. Of course he'd be one card short of a full deck.
Maomao slumped into a chair with a dispirited "What a drag."
"Some sake, please."
She raised her hand and called the proprietress over.
"You're still drinking?"
"I've still got plenty of room."
That remark drew looks of exasperation all around, but she paid them no mind.
Perhaps the alcohol had gone to her head more than she realized.
It wasn't until the buzz wore off that she noticed how much more talkative she'd been than usual.
"You were a real villain, you know."
Yaubu told her that, over and over.
In the end, the forty-eight hundred silver never made it to Maomao's hands. Of course, even if she'd received it, it would've been fleeting money—and the strange resentment it would leave behind would be far worse.
Instead, they secured a promise: one hundred and fifty koku of rice delivered to the Ryokuseikan free of charge for the next ten years. The Ryokuseikan's annual rice consumption was roughly three koku for the two of them. That was considerably more than they needed, but rice could serve as currency, so there was no issue.
It was a favor owed to a shrewd old woman. Unless she got fifty years' worth of rent on the apothecary waived, the deal wouldn't be worth it.
And so the contract with the paper craftsmen remained as it had been before. The discovery that they had been brewing sake without permission had been the decisive factor. The farmers were too afraid of the officials to speak out of turn. As a precaution, Yabu had informed them afterward that he was a member of the imperial court.
In any case, Yabu's reputation had been preserved.
Whether they continued to evade their taxes or not was no longer any of Maomao's concern.
As for what had become of the paper craftsman's eldest son and the landlord's daughter, she had no idea. If they had just broken it off, the farmers could have built a much smoother relationship with them. Maomao found herself entertaining the wicked thought of somehow getting them sent off to the pleasure district.
And so, Maomao had finally returned to the pleasure district, but—
"Meow."
Why is she here?
She had been so restless on the way there, wandering back and forth inside the carriage.
The bundle containing the finest quality paper she had received as a souvenir. The cat had gotten inside it. The topmost sheet had been clawed to shreds.
"Oh,
MaoMao,
is here."
Keen-eyed
Zhao Yu
came over and immediately began swaying the sash cord, playing with the cat.
Yabu had already returned to the inner palace, and when Maomao had considered sending MaoMao back once more, she found that requests for medicinal prescriptions had piled up in her room.
Maomao let out a long sigh and began searching the shelves for the herbs needed for the prescriptions.