A week later, a group of villagers cornered Leon outside the mill, their faces grim. "There's a wasp nest in the Outer Woods," the blacksmith said, wiping his hands on his apron. "Big enough to block the path to the firewood. We can't get past it— the wasps are vicious."
Leon's mind raced. He'd seen wasp nests before—small ones, back when he'd gathered sheepfruit with Isabella—but this one sounded dangerous. Wasps here were larger than in his former world, their stings swollen and painful, sometimes even deadly to children or the weak. But he also remembered that their larvae were a rich source of protein— a rare luxury in the village, where meat was scarce.
"I can help," he said. "But we need to be careful. We'll use smoke to drive the wasps away— they hate smoke."
He gathered a group: Garin, the blacksmith, and two other farmers. They brought long sticks, dry grass, and flint and steel. At dawn, they approached the nest— hanging from an oak tree, the size of a bucket, wasps buzzing angrily around its papery surface. Leon's heart beat fast, but he kept his voice steady.
"Garin, light the grass," he said. "Slowly— we don't want to burn the tree, just make smoke."
Garin lit the dry grass wrapped around the stick, and thick, white smoke curled upward. The wasps buzzed fiercely, but most flew away, driven by the acrid fumes. Leon stepped forward, his heart in his throat, and knocked the nest free with a quick tap of the stick. It fell to the ground with a thud, and he yelled, "Run!"
They sprinted back to the village, laughing as the last of the wasps chased them briefly before giving up. Back in the safety of the village square, Leon pried open the nest with a knife, revealing hundreds of plump, white larvae wriggling inside. Isabella wrinkled her nose, but Garin grinned. "Protein," he said simply.
That evening, Leon fried the larvae in a thin layer of camellia oil— a luxury they'd saved for solstice— and sprinkled them with salt. The villagers hesitated at first, eyeing the wriggling larvae with distrust, but when Garin took the first bite, crunching down with a satisfied hum, they followed.
"It's like tiny pieces of bacon," Isabella said, her eyes wide. The larvae were crispy on the outside, tender on the inside, rich and savory. For a village that survived on bread and野菜, it was a feast.
Leon watched as the bowl emptied, feeling a surge of pride. He hadn't just solved the wasp problem— he'd turned a danger into a meal. In this world, survival wasn't just about avoiding harm. It was about seizing opportunity, even when it came with stings and risks.