Ascendance of a Bookworm (LN) - Volume 1.1 - Chapter 11

Beaten by Ancient Egyptians 

Tiny bits of snow began to fall here and there right as we were on the verge of finishing our preparations. Winter was coming, for real. 

During winter, our neighborhood would end up snowed in, and we’d generally spend all our time inside the house outside of especially sunny days. I normally spent all my time inside anyway like the shut-in I was, so that wasn’t really a problem for me. 

But there were no books in this world. Will I survive as a shut-in without any books around me? 

Blizzards often occurred when snow began falling, so we needed to keep our windows and doors shut tight for warmth. We then stuffed somewhat thick rags into any cracks to block as much wind as possible. 

“...Ngh, so dark.” 

“It’s a blizzard, what did you expect?” 

It caught me off guard that the only sources of light in our locked-up house were the furnace and our candles. It was the first time I had ever been inside a completely dark room in the middle of the day. It hurt to live without electricity. Even back in my Urano days, I had my phone and flashlights when typhoons knocked out the power, and usually it got fixed by the next day. Won’t we all get depressed spending weeks in the dark like this? 

“Hey, Mom. Is everyone’s house this dark?” 

“Hmm. I believe those with a decent amount of spare money tend to have several lamps around their homes to light things up, but we only have one.” 

“Wha? We have a lamp and we aren’t using it?” I figured that it was best to use any light source we had, but Mom just sighed and shook her head. 

“We try to avoid using the lamp since we need to be frugal with oil. You wouldn’t want to run out of candles if the winter drags on, would you?” 

There was no argument against being frugal. Even my mom back in Japan did all sorts of things in the name of saving money. She would unplug the TV from the wall to save on the electricity bill, and yet fall asleep with it still on. She’d cut off the water when brushing her teeth to save on water, but leave it on when washing dishes. In other words, my mom taught me the importance of self-satisfaction. 

I decided to take after my mother’s frugal ways and see if I could finagle a way to get the room a little brighter. 

“What’re you doing, Myne?” 

“I think this might make the room a little brighter...” 

With a three-sided mirror’s magnification properties in mind, I polished my dad’s old metal gauntlets that he had apparently used in a past war and lined them next to the candle. 

“Stop it, Myne.” 

“It’s harder to see now.” 

They both immediately shot me down. Unfortunately, the gauntlets weren’t flat slabs of metal, and the surface wasn’t exactly the smoothest. The light reflected in all sorts of directions and shined in their eyes, making it harder to see their hands. 

“Bwuh, it didn’t work. I wonder if there’s something else I can use like a (mirror)...” 

“I would appreciate it if you would stop wasting our time.” Mom shot me down with a firm tone, so I gave up on my light-reflecting strategy. 

But still, having diminished eyesight didn’t feel that great regardless of whether or not I had any books to read, so I took up camp right next to the warm furnace. 

Not long after that, Mom began setting up her loom near me. It wasn’t a large machine like those I had seen in Japan. It was something a lot more fundamental. I had been wondering how one could weave cloth in a house this small, but it seemed there were looms small enough to do the job. 

“Tuuli, since your baptism’s coming up, there’s a lot I need to teach you,” said Mom before beginning to teach Tuuli all she needed to know about weaving. Tuuli took a spool of thread in hand, looking deadly serious. 

“You put the thread here, then prepare the weft. You weave the thread like this...” Using the thread she had dyed in the fall for this purpose, she started weaving the cloth. 

She wove the cloth, sewed it into clothing, and embroidered it. While she was at it, she prepared next year’s thread from the wool she had bought. We only ever bought the base materials. No new clothes were sold where we lived, and even cloth was too expensive for most commoners to buy. 

“That’s right, just like that. You’ve got a knack for this, Tuuli. Myne, would you like to try too? They say that no beauty doesn’t know how to sew.” 

“Wha? Beauty?” 

“That’s right. Creating clothes for your family is important both practically and to show off to the neighbors. You can’t be a true beauty if you’re not good at sewing and cooking.” 

Aaah... I’m definitely not gonna grow up into a beauty, then. And I mean, I can understand all that being important for a good wife, but what do cooking and sewing have to do with being beautiful? 

I was used to clothes just being something you bought at a store. Go to the store and you’d be surrounded by clothes with all sorts of varying designs. I never was very interested in them, just wearing whatever I thought would get me through something without getting yelled at, but even so, my closet ended up packed with clothes. 

At the very least, I never wore hand-me-downs that had to be sewed up. Sewing was just something I did a few times in school, and those times I just used an electrical sewing machine to finish in no time. The best I could do with needles was reattach a fallen button. 

To say it outright: Expecting me to consider making thread, weaving cloth, and sewing clothes for the family over winter as some important thing was just asking too much. I could say with confidence that I would never, ever care that much about it. I’d never feel motivated to do it. 

Though I would sew until my hands fell off if I could use the cloth as parchment. 

“You don’t want to join, Myne?” 

“Mmm, maybe next time.” 

Tuuli wanted me to join, but I really just did not want to sew anything. Mom was teaching Tuuli since she wanted to become an apprentice seamstress, but in my case, I lacked the height, hand size, and of course, motivation. Teaching me would be a waste of time. 

“Okay, Mom. Please make my special dress. I’ll make baskets.” 

“Certainly. Leave it to your mother. I’ll make you the prettiest, most wonderful dress you’ve ever seen.” Mom, confident in her sewing skills, spoke with eager enthusiasm. 

Every season, all children turning seven gathered at the temple wearing their best clothing. It was the perfect opportunity for a mother to show off her talent. In some ways, it was like a competition for mothers. My own mom began preparing the warp with a smile on her face, using thread much thinner than what Tuuli had been practicing with. 

“That thread looks really thin.” 

Mom gave me a conflicted smile as I thought about how long it would take to make cloth with that thread. “Well, her baptism is in the summer. Can you imagine how hot it would be without thin clothing?” 

“You’re making her dress in the winter even though her baptism is in the summer? Won’t she get bigger by then?” There was a lot more food and time to play around in the summer, so I figured most kids would grow a lot during it. What would happen if she grew too much and the dress ended up too small for her? 

“I can make little changes to it, so that won’t be problem. My main worry is that you’re so much smaller than her, Myne. You might not be able to wear the same dress. Fixing it that much will be quite the ordeal. I wonder what I’ll do next year?” 

Oof... That does sound rough. Good luck, Mom. 

Mom resumed weaving the cloth using the thin thread, which looked harder to work with than the wool thread they made earlier. Tuuli began making baskets to sell. Since my eyes had adjusted well enough to the dark, I decided to start making my own faux-papyrus, as my first giant step to accomplishing my dreams. 

If I can just weave these plant fibers together, I’ll definitely end up with something like paper. I won’t lose to ancient Egyptians! Let’s do this! 

I put the fibers on the table and thought back to the coasters I had been forced to make back in my Urano days. First, I would try to make a piece of paper about the size of a postcard. I got to work vertically and horizontally weaving the fibers that were much thinner than the thread mom was sewing with. 

I lacked money, skill, and age. This was a duel I had to win with guts, determination, and more guts. 

...Bwuuuh, they’re all so thin I can barely tell them apart. Fiddle fiddle fiddle fiddle... 

...Ah, I messed up! Fiddle fiddle fiddle fiddle... 

The fibers were so thin it wasn’t easy to fix any mistake I made. It all just fell apart. Frustrated, I continued my duel with the thin fibers, and eventually Tuuli stopped making her basket to peer over my shoulder. 

“Hey, Myne. What’re you doing?” 

“Hm? Making (faux-papyrus).” 

Tuuli looked back and forth between me and my hands. It was written all over her face that she hadn’t understood what I just said. 

Mmm, you can’t tell by looking? I haven’t even finished a one-inch wide square yet, so that’s fair. Not even I can tell if this is actually going to end up as good faux-papyrus. 

Mom, continuing to weave the cloth, looked at me fiddling with the plant fibers and sighed. 

Fiddle fiddle fiddle... 

Fiddle fiddle fiddle... 

“Myne, if you have the time to play around, help Tuuli make baskets instead.” 

“Mmm. Maybe when I’m not busy.” I wasn’t playing around, and I didn’t have the time to help Tuuli. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say I was the busiest I had ever been since starting my life as Myne. 

...Ah! I made another mistake. All because Mom called out to me. Geez! 

Fiddle fiddle fiddle... 

Fiddle fiddle fiddle... 

“Myne, seriously, what are you doing?” 

“I told you, making (faux-papyrus).” I didn’t have the mental leeway to respond gently to Tuuli’s question, so my tone ended up a little sharp as I focused everything on fiddle fiddle fiddle... 

I didn’t hate working with my hands, and I was doing this because I wanted to. I just had to stay determined and keep going. 

Fiddle fiddle fiddle... 

Fiddle fiddle fiddle... 

“Um, Myne. It’s not getting any bigger.” 

“I know that!” Tuuli’s comment served as the spark that finally made me yell in frustration. It took me a whole day just to get it the size of a fingertip. Please understand how I must have felt.

Fiddle fiddle fiddle... 

Fiddle fiddle fiddle... 

The next day I relied on determination as well. Just keep going, I told myself as I wove the fibers together. I can’t let Tuuli’s comments bother me. 

“What’s that even supposed to be?” 

“.........” 

I can’t... let them bother me. I can’t let them bother me. 

Fiddle fiddle fiddle... 

Gah! It’s coming apart! Ngh, I just have to keep going! My heart will break if I try fixing it! Fiddle fiddle fiddle... 

“Hey, Myne...” 

“That’s it! I can’t do it! Okay, (ancient Egyptians), you win! I lose!” Mentally and emotionally exhausted, I clenched a fist around my faux-papyrus and yelled out in frustration. 

The faux-papyrus had ended up about the size of a tiny notecard. I had no idea how many days it would take if I were to try weaving the fibers into the size of an actual piece of paper, while keeping them tight enough to actually write on. 

Naturally, it would be impossible for me to make enough faux-papyrus to bind into a book at that rate. You could tell just by touching my card-sized faux-papyrus that I had lost patience with it midway through. The center was tightly woven, but the closer you got to the outside, the more frayed it was. No way would it have ended up as paper I could write on. 

At best, it could be a somewhat messy coaster. Not even good enough to write memos on. 

“Bwuuuuuh... I failed. My papyrus plan failed so hard.” The challenge involved in getting the materials, the difficulty of the creation process, and the overall time investment were all just too great for faux-papyrus to be mass produced. Even if I finished that sheet of faux-papyrus, it wouldn’t lead to me making a book. 

“Be quiet, Myne! If you have the time to play with plants, weave some baskets!” 

“Baskets won’t turn into books...” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but you failed, didn’t you? Just start making baskets already.” 

Mom was so mad that I gave up and started weaving baskets. It was a lot simpler to weave the basket parts together than the super thin plant fibers. 

“Tuuli, I’ll help you make baskets. Would you mind sharing your stuff?” 

“Here, I’ll teach you.” Tuuli offered to help with a smile while gathering materials for me, but I just took them and shook my head. 

“It’s okay, I already know how.” 

“Wha?” Watching Tuuli blink in confusion out of the corner of my eyes, I started weaving a basket. I lined up the bamboo-esque, flat pieces of wood and delicately wove them together, making a tight basket with no gaps. 

This was really perfect timing for me, since I had been wanting a sort of take-out bag for a while. I decided to put my all into making the basket, partially to blow off steam after failing so hard with papyrus. After making a solid bottom, I calculated how to make the outside of the basket have a pretty design before starting to weave the rest of it. 

I kept weaving the pieces of wood, taking care not to hurt my hands, until the basket was done. It took me five whole days just to make a tiny chunk of faux-papyrus, but I finished my “tote bag” within a day. That was pretty good, considering how clumsy my tiny child hands were. 

“That’s amazing, Myne. I didn’t know you were a natural at this. Maybe you should try to be an apprentice carpenter?” 

“Whaaa? That’s a little...” 

Mom’s eyes beamed with joy, excited to see that her generally useless daughter had unexpected talent, but I had no intention of becoming an apprentice carpenter. I would work at a bookstore, library, or nowhere at all. Though it was a little problem that books were so rare that there were no bookstores or libraries to hire me. 

“Ngh, why are you so good at this, Myne?” Tuuli compared her baskets with mine and slumped her shoulders, depressed at how much worse hers were. 

“Don’t worry about it, Tuuli. You just need to learn how to tighten the gaps and plan ahead to make patterns.” 

I mean, the real difference here is just how much experience we have. Back in my Urano days, I had gotten wrapped up in my mom’s arts and crafts kick, where she folded newspaper advertisements and made baskets out of them. I had never expected that experience to be useful to me, but well, you never know where life will take you. 

“I can’t believe you’re better than me, Myneee...” 

Oh no... Looks like I’ve really hurt Tuuli’s older sister pride. 

“Aaah, ummm... Right! Mrs. Gerda taught me while she was babysitting me. I’ve been doing this all the time while you’re out at the forest. You did a lot of other things while I made baskets, so you’re still better than me at almost everything. Really.” 

I didn’t have much experience with children, so I wasn’t sure how to put her back into a good mood. I did my best to make up an excuse for why I was so good, but honestly, I wasn’t even really sure what I was trying to say myself. 

“...Oh, okay. That’s right.” I wasn’t sure what part of that convinced her, but Tuuli looked a little relieved. “Okay, then I’ll make lots of baskets over the winter and get better than you, Myne.” 

“Uh huh. Good luck, Tuuli.” I let out a sigh of relief, glad to see Tuuli feeling better. It would be a lot harder for me to survive here without Tuuli’s help. If left on my own, I’d be helpless. I’m so glad I cheered her up. 

“Oh, Tuuli. You should force it into place a little more, it’ll look better that way.” Well... It’s not like I’m that happy about being good at making baskets. I just want books. 

I watched Tuuli’s basket weaving and gave her advice while glancing at my failed faux-papyrus. If papyrus won’t work, what should I try making next? Throughout the winter, I thought about what to do next while continually weaving baskets next to Tuuli. 

...Egypt’s no good, it’s way too hard for a kid like me. What should I do if Egypt won’t work? Well, thinking about it like a textbook, you usually study Mesopotamian culture before Egyptian culture. 

...Okay, that’s it! Cuneiform! It’s time for clay tablets! Long live Mesopotamian culture! 

I remember that even after the flames of war and arson, their clay tablets managed to survive. I’ll make clay tablets, carve letters into them, cook them in a furnace, and that might just be that. Plus, making tablets out of clay will just look like a kid playing with mud. The adults won’t suspect a thing. 

It’s settled! That’s what I want to do. Once the snow melts and spring comes, I’m making clay tablets!