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After a short talk with Miss Maika, we also talked with the families of the sick people coming to the village chief’s house to make sure that no one in the village was seriously ill. We hope to welcome the next spring with all the villagers, and look forward to a new year with even more productivity. With a vision for the future in my mind, I returned home to my tragic home to find my father waiting for me.
“Oh, no! Hey, sit down!”
It wasn’t just that his speech was faulty, his tongue wasn’t working. I couldn’t understand what he was saying, but I could tell from his gestures and our daily acquaintance that he was instructing me to sit at the desk across from him. Sadly, I can tell that I am the son of this no-good father.
“Hey, you’re always reading books! A man has to work in the fields!”
“Yes, working in the fields is a man’s job, isn’t it, and the knowledge I gained from reading books has made my work a little easier, hasn’t it?”
I automatically pass over my father’s words because I am tired of hearing him preach or complain. We haven’t used any pesticides yet, but we have divided the field into small blocks, managed the labor work such as plowing and maintenance, checked the growth status, and kept a record of the yield.
Since we don’t have any records of yields or labor hours prior to the division into blocks, we can’t make any reliable comparisons, but we are aware that we have improved our work efficiency to some extent.
“It’s all a bunch of hooey! The more work you put into the field, the better the harvest

.”
“The more work you put into your field, the better the harvest, right?　Even my field records are a great deal of work. If you don’t take a good look at the field and study the fruits carefully, you can’t make it. It’s not that I’m going against the teachings of my ancestors.”
I don’t like it when people say that just working in the field is a hassle. Such work is self-satisfying and does not lead to any results. I took a glass of water from the well mixed with some dried and powdered medicinal herbs and offered it to my father.
According to the book, it has a sedative effect, so I wanted to experiment with it. I have no idea if it is safe to take it with alcohol. My father drank it all at once, so I was a little excited.
“Hey 

how are you so smart?”
“What? Smart?”
It’s because I have memories of what seems to be a past life. It would be easier if I could tell the truth like that, but I can’t say anything because I don’t know what effect it would have if people around me knew.
“Are you sure you’re my son?”
My father was looking at me like I was an abandoned dog. I wonder if it’s because male parents don’t experience childbirth, so they always wonder if their children are theirs or not. It is true that I have memories of what seems to be a previous life, so there are other parents for me besides the ones in this life. I can’t deny that I recognize my parents in this life as different from them, since my previous life precedes them in the timeline of my memories. However, I am sure that my father David and I are related by blood. I sigh with a mixture of regret.
“What are you talking about? For all intents and purposes, I’m your son.”
There are multiple reasons for this, although it is only from my perspective. First, my mother is a very strong, chaste, and ethical woman who would never have an affair. Secondly, my father and I share the same genetic traits in appearance. We have very different moods because of the way we talk and behave, but we have the same eyes and ears. Third – well, this has nothing to do with blood ties at all.
“Unless we’re a father and son, how can I possibly understand the inaudible words of my drunken father so well?”
“Are you sure?”
“It’s true. I grew up watching your back, you know.”
This is very helpful as a counterpoint. It makes me cringe to think that if I let my guard down, I could become like him.
“Oh, yeah

.”
My father started to cry. He’s lying down on the desk, crying profusely. I wondered if something had happened when he was drinking with his buddies. Specifically, was he being teased about whether I was really his son or something like that? I don’t think he needs to worry about that, because I’m just special.
However, if he can make so much noise, I doubt the sedative effect of the medicine he took. Just as I was thinking this, my father started to snore loudly.
“Hmmm

I can’t tell from this if he’s drunk or if the sedative is working.”
The experiment was a failure. I learned my lesson that I shouldn’t let them consume alcohol at the same time. But I’ll probably do it again. I don’t like to deal with drunk people, so I feel like doing dangerous experiments. My body is probably as strong as my father’s, so I’m sure I can handle it.