Serving Meals In Another World (Light Novel), Volume 1 Chapter 4

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Volume One, Chapter Four: Dried Herring, the Mysterious Shellfish, and a Sour Face

“Heh heh heh.”

I stared into the refrigerator, letting out a creepy little laugh all by myself.

The sun had long since disappeared, and I’d grown thoroughly tired of even the moon’s face by now. My sister, of course, was fast asleep.

In the pitch-dark kitchen, only the refrigerator’s light illuminated me.

I was confident I was wearing an extremely wicked expression right now.

What I was staring at: a dried brown fish.

I gently lifted it up, turning the package around to examine it.

This thing, completely forgotten and left sitting in the refrigerator, had finally reached its day in the sun.

There was also that perfect partner for it.

I glanced at the mountain vegetables in a plastic container on the upper shelf of the refrigerator.

…Thank you, Lord of the Mountain!

Imagining the ultimate drinking snack that these two would make together, my mouth was already watering.

What should I drink with it? No, what a stupid question.

Sake, of course. And a light, easy-drinking kind, at that.

“Ahh, feelin’ good.”

I skipped lightly toward the stove.

Tonight’s companion for drinks: dried herring!

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Migaki-nishin—dried herring.

Not exactly a mainstream ingredient by any means, but it happened to be my uncle’s absolute favorite.

It was a delicacy commonly eaten in my grandmother’s hometown of Aomori. Essentially dried herring; in some regions it was simmered or cooked in a sweet glaze, but in Aomori, it was especially beloved as a snack to accompany alcohol.

The kind of migaki-nishin eaten often in Aomori was the half-dried variety.

Half-dried herring had a densely packed herring flavor, and when you bit into it, its rich fat slowly seeped into your mouth. For anyone who loved alcohol, it was the ultimate drinking snack.

Every year, my grandmother used to order some specially for my uncle, who’d come home for New Year’s. Even after she passed away, I’d kept ordering migaki-nishin for my uncle whenever he came to pay respects at the family altar, and had been storing it deep in the freezer in preparation for the upcoming New Year’s visit.

My uncle would eat his beloved treat during his own evening drinking sessions, and he never once shared a bite. If anyone dared reach for it, the back of their hand would be met with a merciless smack.

So the only times I’d ever gotten to try it were the occasional sneaky nibble before serving it to him, but I remember it being absolutely delicious.

Honestly, the sheer tenacity and obsession Aomori natives have toward their dried goods was something else. Actually, there was one more dried food connected to my grandmother. It was sleeping away in the pantry right now… but I’ll save that for another time.

Anyway, the important thing was that tonight, I was going to eat my uncle’s dried herring.

After all, I wasn’t going back to my original world for the foreseeable future.

Normally, whenever I saw the migaki-nishin waiting for my uncle in the freezer, I would tell myself, “No. Don’t. You can’t!” and give up. But this time, there was no helping it.

Better to enjoy it while it was still good than let it spoil and become inedible.

—Besides, I’d already thawed it.

—And my uncle couldn’t exactly come to another world.

Ah, the guilty thrill of laying hands on something that wasn’t mine.

That racing heartbeat, like the moment you slip a spoon into someone else’s pudding—it was trying to drag me down the path of wickedness!

“You’re only eating it because it’s about to expire, right?”

Jade flicked on the kitchen light with a click and calmly cut straight through my dramatics.

“Mr. Jade, you’re no fun.”

“Anyone who could keep up with that kind of nonsense would be the weird one.”

—If it were my sister, she’d totally play along.

Feeling a little disappointed, I tore open the package of migaki-nishin.

Incidentally, Jade seemed to have picked up the concept of expiration dates through all his time helping me cook. …My guard knight really was quite competent.

Jade was in casual clothes tonight. He’d offered to join my drinking session even though he was off duty.

As for security, Dazil would be showing up later, so it wasn’t really an issue, but Jade insisted, repeating "I’m worried" over and over, and simply wouldn’t be talked out of it. …My guard knight was certainly diligent.

Dressed in a loose shirt and slacks, with his usual apron on top, he looked strangely fresh. Handsome men really could pull off anything.

The two of us got started prepping ingredients together.

Humming to myself, I gently set the dried herring on the cutting board.

Its skin looked glossy black, though at certain angles it caught a dull silvery shine. The flesh, dark brown, was slightly translucent.

Narrowing my eyes slightly, I studied it, running a finger lightly over the surface to feel for the bones. Once I’d identified the direction of the bones, I sliced diagonally against them, cutting across them. This kept the bones from being noticeable when eating. After sprinkling the fish with sake to remove any fishy odor, the herring was ready.

—All right, I needed two more dishes.

If it were just me eating, the herring alone would be enough, but with two others joining, I should probably make something more. …It definitely wasn’t because I wanted to make sure they couldn’t eat too much of the herring. Definitely not.

As I imagined the taste of sake, I rummaged through the refrigerator.

I already knew what one dish would be, but what should I make for the other?

Digging around in the depths of the freezer, I found something.

—Chicken skin.

I’d bought it cheaply from a butcher at the market.

People here didn’t seem to do much with chicken skin by itself, so it had been very cheap.

Chicken skin skewers? Chicken skin in nikujaga—meat with potatoes—would be nice too. But I didn’t want to spend too much time on it.

—Let’s keep it simple: crispy fried chicken skin.

Crispy chicken skin seasoned with salt and pepper was the perfect drinking snack.

Deciding on that, I microwaved the chicken skin to thaw it. Once thawed, I cut the larger pieces into bite-sized chunks. If there was any moisture left, I wiped it off with a kitchen paper.

Next, I pulled out the two kinds of shellfish I’d already purged of sand—bivalves and spiral-shelled ones.

The large, glossy bivalves with their mottled ochre shells were clams. Right in season, these clams were nice and plump. Today, I’d steam them in sake. The clams were sure to give us an absolutely superb broth.

The spiral-shelled ones were an ingredient native to this other world.

A special request from Dazil.

They were called “milk shells,” a type of tiny spiral shellfish. Shaped like an inverted triangle and about the size of a thumbtip, they closely resembled shittaka, a small shellfish found along Japan’s rocky shores.

Since I’d already planned tonight’s drinking session in advance, I’d had Jade let Dazil know about it—but Dazil, hearing we’d be drinking, asked if I’d make him his favorite dish, saying he’d bring the ingredients himself. I’d agreed to that.

This morning, Dazil had shown up with a net full of milk shells and, grinning slyly, said, "These little guys are vicious, so watch yourself," before heading off. …Vicious? A total mystery ingredient, but I’d already gotten the cooking method from Dazil beforehand.

I pulled out a large, milky-white bottle that sloshed with a splish sound. This too, Dazil had brought over. It was something like unrefined sake, commonly drunk in the nearby fishing villages. Sniffing it gave off a scent like sake lees. It was called "milk wine.”

…Wait, does Dazil have some kind of thing for milk? He did say it was his favorite, after all!

Thinking these rather rude thoughts I could never say to his face, I poured the milky-white wine over the milk shells sitting in a bowl.

Instantly, a whole bunch of tentacles emerged all at once from inside the shells!

Slurp, slurrrrrrp!

—Yikes.

My face twitched involuntarily.

The tentacles thrashed wildly in the milk wine, as if competing with each other, absorbing it at a terrifying rate.

The wine vanished as if being sucked down a drain, so I kept pouring in more to make sure there was always enough.

After a while, the shells seemed to grow drunk, their tentacles losing all strength and going still.

The tentacles, drifting weakly in the milky wine like drunkards, moved sluggishly here and there as if remembering something, gradually retracting back into their shells, before finally snapping their thin shell-lids shut.

According to Dazil, these shellfish absolutely love alcohol.

Apparently, once they were drunk on alcohol like this, grilling them over a net made them exceptionally delicious. They were known as “Drunkard Shells.” The name was pretty much exactly what it sounded like.

Well, that finished the prep work.

I asked Jade to get the charcoal ready and got straight to cooking.

First up, the sake-steamed clams.

I finely minced a generous amount of garlic and chopped some green onion.

Into a frying pan went the clams and garlic, with a generous pour of sake. No skimping on the sake here.

After I covered the pan and waited a while, the clams popped open. Their umami dissolved into the sake, turning the broth cloudy white. Once all the clams had opened, I scattered the green onions over them and tasted the broth.

If it needed a bit more salt, I’d add some—

“Ohh, no. I could just drink this whole thing right now.”

“Akane, get a hold of yourself.”

The sake-steamed broth was downright dangerous. The savory depth of the clams was so overwhelming that a mere taste-test wasn’t going to cut it.

“No, no, no, Mr. Jade, you’d understand if you tried it yourself.”

Saying that, I forcibly shoved a spoonful of the broth into his mouth as he tried to stop me. Jade groaned faintly, but swallowed the broth anyway, and after muttering, "Oh, this is…" he covered his face with one hand.

—Taste-testing is a cook’s privilege.

Flashing a wicked little grin, I pulled out a clam, scooped up plenty of garlic and broth in its shell, and handed it to Jade. Then I secured a portion for myself the same way… and, careful not to spill the broth, brought it to my mouth.

I scraped the plump clam meat away with my front teeth and chewed it together with the garlic… Ahh.

The silky clam meat. The sharp, stimulating bite of the garlic.

And the savory, umami-rich sake broth blending together with it all.

“Ahh…”

Somebody, bring me some alcohol…!

Bring me booze!

The fake feudal lord inside me was running wild.

Glancing beside me, Jade too had his eyes closed, savoring it with an expression of pure rapture.

—And just like that, we became accomplices.

Needless to say, for a while after that, a quiet, secret round of "taste-testing"—otherwise known as sneaky nibbling—proceeded without pause.

Now then, Dazil would be arriving soon. Time to hurry through the rest of the prep.

Swallowing down a mouthful of clam meat, I tossed the chicken skin into the heated frying pan.

Left to cook over the heat, the skin’s own fat gradually rendered out, thick and generous.

Before long, the pan had filled up with the fat. In that fat, I fried the chicken skin until it turned a crisp, golden brown.

Once fully crisped, the chicken skin shrank tightly, having released all its fat, wobbling temptingly in the chicken oil, practically begging me to eat it.

I transferred the chicken skin onto some kitchen paper and gave it a light sprinkling of salt and pepper.

Then, quite naturally, I popped one straight into my mouth.

Jade gave me a somewhat exasperated look, like “are you still snacking?”—but I didn’t care.

Crunch. Crisp, crisp…

With every last bit of moisture driven out, the chicken skin had a wonderfully fun texture. Its savory richness, enhanced by the salt and pepper, made me instantly crave something sparkling and golden to wash it down with.

Reaching for another piece, I caught Jade staring at me somewhat reproachfully.

I glanced down at the chicken skin in my hand, then held it out toward his mouth without a word.

Jade blinked a few times, his mouth twitching slightly, before finally—looking surprisingly pleased—taking a bite.

He must really like chicken skin. His expression had completely transformed from before, now beaming with delight.

I divided the remaining chicken skin into three plates, seasoning one with salt and pepper, another with curry powder, and the last with garlic powder, mixing each thoroughly.

That way, the fragrant spices would make the fatty chicken skin easier to eat.

While doing that, I heard someone knocking on the kitchen window.

Glancing up, I met Dazil’s eyes outside the pitch-dark window, his figure faintly illuminated by the kitchen’s light.

I asked Jade to go greet Dazil at the front door.

While he did, I quickly finished up That Other Thing and stashed it in the refrigerator.

Then, with an entirely innocent expression, I carried the dishes into the living room.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

The moment I stepped into the living room, I noticed there was one extra person. And the instant I saw that person’s face, my expression froze on the spot.

“…Is my presence here somehow inconvenient?”

There, on a cushion beside the low table, sat Luvan, expression composed, back ramrod straight, in perfect formal seiza. He looked exactly like a mother-in-law lying in wait, ready to pounce with complaints the moment her daughter-in-law let her guard down.

—W-Why on earth is he sitting in seiza…?

Despite my internal bewilderment, I kept up appearances and gave a flawless response: “No, no, not at all, ahahaha." The fruits of my long-standing habit of mentally rehearsing for hypothetical future mother-in-law confrontations (also known as pure daydreaming).

As a side note, the mystery of why this man from another world was sitting formally in seiza was solved later, when I actually asked him about it.

According to him:

‘Given the custom of removing shoes, the low table, the cushions placed on the floor—which I presume are called zabuton—and further considering the relative height of the floor, the cushion, and the tabletop, I concluded through comprehensive analysis that “seiza” was the most efficient sitting position. Surely anyone would arrive at the same conclusion without needing it explained.’

…That was what he told me later with a sigh, looking down at me through half-lidded eyes.

Incidentally, Jade, Prince Cain, and Dazil all normally just sit cross-legged without a second thought.

…Just who exactly did he mean by "anyone"?

Well, setting that aside.

I laid out the prepared dishes on the low table, along with enough glasses for everyone, a large bottle of sake, and a few beers.

Over by the veranda, Jade had cracked open the storm shutters slightly for ventilation and was getting the shichirin ready, glowing red with burning charcoal.

“Ohh, this looks great too. What a tempting smell.”

Dazil rubbed his hands together, eyeing the food happily. Luvan, meanwhile, wore his usual sour, unreadable expression.

I portioned out the sake-steamed clams into small dishes and handed them around.

The chicken skin was self-serve, so everyone could pick their preferred flavor.

Beer first, of course—we each poured a glass and toasted.

The cold beer went down wonderfully, hitting the spot as always.

Letting out a satisfied fwah!, Dazil eagerly dug into the food.

“Mmm, this—sake-steamed clams, was it? Delicious! What is this broth! The meat’s plump and has this rich sweetness. And washing it down with… slurp… this broth, man, this is bad, I can’t stop.”

In no time, the dish in front of Dazil that was meant for discarded shells was piled high with empty shells.

As for Luvan, he seemed to have taken a particular liking to the curry-flavored chicken skin, munching through it silently, one crunchy piece after another.

“Oi, Luvan, don’t hog all of that.”

Dazil grabbed a fistful of chicken skin and tossed it into his mouth with gusto. Crunch, munch, munch… his laugh lines deepening as he happily chewed away. Then he tipped back his beer and downed the whole thing in one go.

“Bhaah! Ahhh…”

Dazil’s face went slack with satisfaction for a moment before breaking into a wide grin, thrusting his empty glass out dramatically for a refill. His drinking style was always refreshing to watch.

Normally I’d happily pour him another generous round, but this time, without changing my expression, I swapped him a smaller glass instead and poured sake into it.

To be honest, we still had plenty of beer stored away in the pantry—gifts from the mid-year and year-end gift-giving seasons sent to our grandparents’ house every year—but with summer coming, consumption was sure to spike; I figured I should be a little conservative now.

…Beer was precious. We absolutely couldn’t drink it all before summer. I refuse to let any more of it disappear. A summer without beer was simply unacceptable, even if it would kill me.

The illustration’s description: Luvan is munching through the chicken skin silently, and Dazil is tossing into his mouth a fistful of chicken skin.

Dazil blinked in mild surprise at the sudden switch, but sniffed the new drink, eyes lighting up, and tossed back the sake eagerly.

“Mmm…! This is good stuff.”

Dazil said this while staring thoughtfully into his glass.

“Easy to drink, but surprisingly strong… Smells almost like fruit, but leaves this pleasant aftertaste of alcohol behind. Delicious.”

Seeing him savor the sake so contentedly, laugh lines deepening, made me want some myself, and I hastily poured myself a glass too.

The instant I took a sip, a fruity aroma drifted up through my nose. The alcohol tightened pleasantly at the back of my throat, utterly irresistible.

This wasn’t just any sake. This was namazake—unpasteurized, freshly pressed sake.

Released only from November through around March, this raw sake hadn’t been heat-treated at all. This, too, was something I’d bought every year from a brewery in my grandmother’s hometown, specifically for my uncle.

Because it was so difficult to store, it rarely made it to general liquor stores and was mostly consumed locally.

The yeast was still alive, so it had to be stored in a cool, dark place. It was a delicate thing, and leaving it somewhere warm would ruin the flavor in no time.

Up until recently, while it was still cold, keeping it in the back of the pantry away from sunlight had been fine, but now that spring had softened the chill considerably, it was reaching its limit.

So, this too, I intended to finish off entirely tonight.

—Ah, dear uncle! Forgive me, but I’ll be enjoying this properly, so please rest in peace.

Offering a silent prayer to my uncle, who was surely alive and well back in our original world, I took another sip.

What a gentle, smooth taste. The faint sweetness practically begged me to drink more. Giving in and taking another sip, the alcohol’s sharp tingle on my tongue reminded me—yes, this really was sake, easy-drinking as it may be. It was a dangerously easy drink, one that lulled you into a gentle, pleasant intoxication, making you forget the alcohol content entirely and just keep going.

“Hmph… This is quite good.”

Luvan seemed to have taken a liking to the namazake as well, and had started pouring for himself eagerly, one glass after another.

—Yeah. A giant sake bottle and the Prime Minister… doesn’t match at all!

Conveniently ignoring the fact that I’d been too lazy to prepare a proper sake flask, I muttered that thought to myself.

After a while of drinking with chicken skin and clams as our snacks, I noticed Luvan had turned… an absolutely alarming shade of red. Not just his face—his ears, his neck, even his hands.

“M-Mr. Luvan? You’re incredibly red?”

“Don’t concern yourself. I flush quickly when I drink. It’s nothing to worry about. …More importantly, the snacks have run out.”

Luvan held out the now-empty chicken skin plate with a cheerful expression. I took the plate—which had held a considerable amount just a while ago—and glanced over at Dazil, who wore an utterly unbothered expression and simply waved a hand dismissively, saying, "Just leave him be.”

By then, Dazil had somehow already stationed himself by the shichirin alongside Jade, and the two of them had started grilling the milk shells.

“Here, look, milk shells. They’re roasting now.”

“Oh, excellent.”

I watched Luvan wobble off unsteadily, then glanced briefly toward the kitchen.

For a split second, thoughts of That Other Thing crossed my mind, but I shook my head and quickly followed after Luvan.

The milk shells sizzled and popped pleasantly over the shichirin, making a satisfying crackling sound.

Beer glass in hand, Jade, stationed beside the shichirin, noticed me approaching and smiled. He dragged over a cushion and set it down beside himself, patting it invitingly for me to sit.

Gratefully, I settled down and let the shichirin’s warmth wash over me. Cozy and pleasant.

Jade’s cheeks had turned faintly pink from the alcohol, but otherwise he seemed largely unchanged from usual.

For the record, Dazil and I were both the type who didn’t change much no matter how much we drank. Bottomless pits, you could say. We both eat and drink at full throttle. Liver disease and weight gain were real concerns for the future. Jade couldn’t drink much, but he never got particularly drunk either, and only nibbled lightly at snacks. He was the type who paced his drinking well. And as for Luvan…

“Dazil, is it not done yet?”

“Just a bit more, hold on.”

“Dazil, this ‘sake’ is delicious.”

“Glad to hear it, don’t overdo it though.”

“Dazil, is it done yet?”

“Not yet, I said.”

…He was the type who became cheerful and giddy when drunk. He drank and ate to his heart’s content. He was the sort of person who had the most fun out of everyone present when he drank.

Seeing Luvan—normally so sour-faced and constantly spouting complicated, difficult remarks—clinging happily to Dazil like this was, somehow, quite unexpected.

“Here, they’re done.”

While I sat there watching Luvan somewhat blankly, Jade called out to me, and I turned my attention back to the shichirin.

Grilled over the fire, the milk shells were bubbling and hissing, some liquid and bits of tentacle poking out from their small shell-lids.

The air was filled with the smell of the sea, along with a faint aroma of milk wine.

“These guys won’t open their lids unless you grill ‘em. Stubborn little things, actually. You gotta heat ‘em up to force the lid open like this. …Here, Akane, watch.”

Dazil slid a thin iron skewer into the gap of a shell and gave it a firm twist, dragging the contents out.

What slid out from the shell was—some small, octopus-like creature. With a round head and several writhing tentacles, it seemed to be using its last remaining strength to desperately try and escape the skewer.

“And then, you grill this guy right here on the grate, like so.”

Paying it no mind, Dazil pressed it, skewer and all, onto the shichirin’s grate. The grilled parts immediately turned a deep red, taking on an unmistakably octopus-like appearance.

Once the milk shell’s contents stopped moving, Dazil popped it straight into his mouth. "Delicious!" he declared, then tossed back another gulp of sake.

He handed me a skewer too, so, struggling a bit with the piping-hot shell, I worked the skewer in. There was a brief moment of strong resistance, but with a firm pull, I dragged the contents out and pressed them onto the grate. The satisfying sizzle and rich, briny aroma built up my anticipation.

Honestly, during prep it had been, admittedly, more than a little unsettling to look at, but seen like this now, oddly enough, it looked genuinely delicious.

Swallowing hard, I blew on it to cool it down and popped it into my mouth.

First, the tentacles—or legs, I suppose. Chewing gave a springy, satisfying resistance. Mild in flavor, but with a faint hint of salt. …If I had to compare it to something, it was like lightly dried squid.

Next, the head portion.

Biting through it with a small pop, something thick and gooey burst out—and an intense, miso-like flavor hit me. Bitterness, sweetness, and savory depth all tangled together in a complex way, something I felt like I’d tasted somewhere before…?

—Ah! That’s it!

—Crab tomalley!

The moment I made that connection, I ended up swallowing it before I could think.

A rich, lingering miso-like aftertaste filled my mouth.

And then I realized my mistake.

—Why on earth had I eaten the legs and head separately?

Regretting it instantly, I had Jade grab me another shell, and this time popped the whole thing into my mouth at once.

The mild, plain flavor of the legs transformed the overwhelmingly rich, almost cloying "miso" into something gentle and balanced. The legs alone felt lacking, but the tomalley alone was too heavy and overpowering.

Together, though—that’s where the real deliciousness came from.

I took a generous sip of my sake.

The namazake, clean and crisp, washed away the lingering richness of the tomalley beautifully—an indescribably perfect pairing.

“Ahh… delicious…”

At my unconscious murmur, Dazil’s laugh lines at the corners of his eyes deepened noticeably. "Right? Right?" he said, looking thoroughly pleased with himself, and piled several more grilled milk shells onto a plate for me.

Luvan also asked, “Dazil, my share,” and had him grill several more, which he then happily stuffed into his mouth.

I kept popping the strange otherworldly snacks into my mouth one after another, sipping the delicious namazake that could only be enjoyed right now, in this fleeting season, passing the evening in wonderfully good spirits.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

The night deepened, and the feast was reaching its liveliest point.

Dazil and Jade were quietly chatting about knight-order business between themselves.

Luvan seemed to be nearing his limit. He dozed off now and then, only to suddenly startle awake and look around before taking another tiny sip of his drink.

The milk shells were long gone, and everyone’s stomachs were fairly well satisfied by now.

Dishes in hand, I made my way toward the kitchen, trying to look as natural as possible.

Reaching the refrigerator, I quietly pulled out the plastic container holding That Other Thing—

“Hoh. There was still more food, was there.”

“Eek…!”

At the low voice right behind me, I nearly jumped clean out of my skin.

Turning around with movements so stiff you could practically hear them creak, sure enough, there stood Luvan, his silver-rimmed glasses glinting, clutching a glass of sake.

Luvan snatched the plastic container right out of my hands and plopped himself down heavily onto a kitchen chair.

An astonishingly rough manner of behaving, completely unlike his usual self. Normally so precise and efficient in his movements, this alone told me just how drunk he really was.

Luvan opened the container, stared intently at its contents for a moment—then grabbed a bite with his bare hand and ate it.

“…Fish… no, dried fish? Somewhat fishy…”

“…”

“This vegetable has a rather grassy smell as well.”

“…”

“Dressed in some salty, sour seasoning?”

“Ugh…”

“This lingering taste on the tongue—fish fat? Quite a distinctive flavor…”

Luvan chewed thoughtfully, swallowed it down, then said:

“But it pairs perfectly with sake.”

He gave a bold, wicked grin and tipped back his glass. Suddenly emboldened, Luvan started reaching for one bite after another in rapid succession.

What he’d stolen from me, of course, was the migaki-nishin—the dried herring. The herring, soaked in sake, dressed together with boiled mountain udo stems and vinegar-miso. When serving it to my uncle, I normally used scallions or green onions, but since I had mountain udo on hand this time, I’d gone with that instead.

“To think you were hiding something like this… You truly are not to be trusted, are you?”

“I’m sorry about that, but—ah, that’s my only batch of herring, so please don’t eat it all!”

Half out of stubbornness now, I grabbed a bite with my own bare hand too.

The herring, dressed together with the crisp mountain udo. Honestly, its oily aroma was quite distinctive.

On its own, migaki-nishin didn’t have an especially strong flavor. Its umami was packed away deep inside, and a few bites weren’t enough to bring it out. Instead, the generous amount of fat it contained slowly welled up with every chew.

That fat, perhaps because the fish is only half-dried, carried a slightly fishy edge.

Mountain udo, too, had a rather distinctive flavor. Its fresh, green aroma wasn’t something everyone would enjoy.

That was precisely why I mixed them with tangy vinegar-miso.

The tartness, the saltiness, the depth of the miso. Just a touch of sugar. When all of it came together with the ingredients, it transformed into something that paired ferociously well with alcohol.

—The herring’s umami hidden beyond its fishy aroma.

—The refreshing fragrance of mountain udo beyond its grassy aroma, along with its crisp texture.

Absolutely irresistible for a drinker—a perfect snack for anyone who loved alcohol.

A terrifying dish that called for another drink with every bite.

Not about to lose to Luvan, I tipped back my own drink in turn.

“Mr. Luvan, eating with your bare hands is quite rude, you know.”

“…Not something I want to hear from you. Also, that utensil you call chopsticks is extremely difficult to use. In this situation, it is utterly inefficient.”

“You can’t even use chopsticks? …Pff.”

“You’re making a rather infuriating face right now, aren’t you?”

“Better than being a Prime Minister who can’t even use chopsticks. …Ah! You’re leaving all the udo and eating only the herring! That’s forbidden!”

—This back-and-forth continued for a while, until Dazil and Jade noticed us in the kitchen and found us out, whereupon the herring was promptly annihilated by a gathering of sake lovers.

Thankfully, Jade offered to wash the dishes, while I mourned my loss. …My guard knight really was wonderful.

I sipped some hot hojicha—roasted green tea—to sober up a little.

Luvan had finally lost to sleepiness and had slumped forward over the low table, fast asleep.

Dazil seemed intent on finishing the remaining alcohol, so he quietly sipped away at it by himself.

“Hey, missy. Sorry about today.”

“…? What are you talking about? If it’s about the herring, I’ll resent you forever.”

“That grudge over the herring runs deep! …Ah, no, not about that. I’ll make it up to you for the herring too, of course. I promise. So don’t glare at me like that; it’s scary.”

Dazil seemed to have learned firsthand just how terrifying a grudge over food could be, and he shuddered. Perhaps to steady himself, he took a sip of sake and began speaking slowly, bit by bit:

“I mean bringing him along suddenly—Luvan, I mean. I figured you might have the wrong idea about him. As his friend, it bothered me to see him misunderstood, so I brought him along.”

“…Misunderstood?”

“Missy, you’re scared of him, aren’t you? Or well, maybe not quite scared, but you think he’s a pain to deal with. You’ve been wondering why someone like him—such a high-up official in this country—would bother coming out here himself to investigate all this stuff, haven’t you?”

“Ugh…”

Something in my chest clenched inwardly.

—It’s not that I’m scared of him. But given that Luvan already holds such a high position as Prime Minister, I’ve never quite been able to figure out how he actually feels about being involved with us, and I’ve always been unsure how to behave around him. Every action, every word—I’m never quite sure if it fits the situation, so being around him takes enormous care. …So I couldn’t deny that I did find his visits somewhat of a burden.

Letting out a breath, Dazil lowered his eyes, idly turning his glass in his hands, and continued:

“Of course, Luvan isn’t entirely blameless. He never makes it clear how he sees himself or what position he’s taking.”

The large sake bottle was completely empty by now. The brown bottle, lying on its side on the tatami, gave off a strangely melancholy air.

“This guy has an expressionless face that’s hard to read, and on top of that, he doesn’t talk much. And when he does open his mouth, it’s always something harsh… In a way, that’s a triple whammy against him. He says all those harsh things because, in his own way, he thinks they’ll help you two—ugh, this is hard. It always comes out sounding preachy no matter how I try to explain it.”

Perhaps unable to find the right words, Dazil scratched his head roughly.

“Anyway, Luvan feels responsible—for practically forcing a young girl into the role of Saint and hoisting the fate of the whole kingdom onto her shoulders like that. We all do, honestly, but—there’s no denying he genuinely feels ashamed of this whole situation, one we can’t really fix through our own strength alone.”

Dazil rolled his empty glass idly in his hands as he kept talking.

“—Missy, you know? The royal court is a place full of bad adults. Nobles especially are a den of scheming, rotten characters. …And the bureaucrats are the worst of the lot. Bunch of power-hungry pigs, all high status by birth alone, and nothing else to show for it.”

“That’s a rather harsh description.”

“Yeah. That was rude to pigs, actually … Pigs taste so good, after all. Those bastards aren’t even edible, so they’re worse than pigs.”

Dazil said it with a thoroughly disgusted expression, and I could see the weariness on his face.

—Wait, that’s what you’re upset about!?

“For the kingdom, she’s a precious Saint. We can’t have her caught up in political messes, having her actual purification journey affected by it. …You too, Akane. You probably haven’t noticed it yourself, but you’re the Saint’s emotional anchor—which also makes you a weakness. There’s no shortage of people who might try to use you for their own ends. …That’s what he’s always harping on about.”

—You might want to give some thought to your own position here.

I remembered Luvan’s words.

His words were always sharp, harsh.

Always with a scowl, brow furrowed, speaking with blunt honesty—Luvan always struck straight at the heart of the matter without hesitation. Someone who deliberately, precisely, cuts to the core whenever you’re wavering. If you deal with him half-heartedly, you would get hurt.

…Having someone willing to offer harsh, honest criticism was genuinely precious and something to be grateful for. But whether or not that made such a person easy to be around was an entirely different matter.

“Even so, there’s no telling where trouble might sneak in from. Just to be extra careful, he’s been making sure the other officials keep their distance from you both by handling the investigations himself. …Though honestly, his genuine love of magical devices is probably a decent part of the reason too.”

Apparently, officials, given their status, had all sorts of restrictions, and there was no telling when or where they might get tangled up with some noble scheming something underhanded, making it genuinely difficult to find someone trustworthy.

—So that’s why the Prime Minister himself had been coming here personally to investigate.

“…Don’t go making up your own convenient stories, Dazil.”

Just then—Luvan, whom I’d assumed was fast asleep, suddenly lifted his head. His eyes were only half open, swaying slightly side to side, so he might still have been half-asleep. Face bright red, Luvan pointed sharply at Dazil.

“I am simply doing the work that needs to be done! Protecting the Saint and her sister! Their well-being directly ties into this kingdom’s peace and stability! I am merely doing what I am able to do… because that is the only thing I can do…”

After saying that, Luvan slumped back down onto the low table and fell asleep once more.

The only thing I can do… those words struck something deep in my chest. And left behind a bitterly painful feeling.

When I looked at Dazil, he was staring at Luvan, who had fallen asleep again, scratching the back of his neck with an awkward expression.

“We’re the same.”

“Hm? What do you mean?”

“…Me, and him. I’m the same—cooking is really the only thing I’m capable of doing too.”

Watching Luvan breathing peacefully in his sleep, my cheeks softened into a smile.

“He’s such an awkward person.”

“…Yeah. He really is. This guy’s terrible at expressing himself.”

The spring night deepened.

Delicious snacks, delicious sake.

The happiness of enjoying them together with someone.

I thought of what he was normally like when he wasn’t asleep.

Always sour-faced, mouth perpetually set in that flat, displeased line. Always saying such harsh things, and yet, once alcohol entered the picture, he seemed to have an incredible amount of fun. And he was the kind of person who could work hard for someone else without making a show of it—

I pressed the teacup in my hands against my cheek.

The gentle warmth of the cup seeped in soothingly, and I slowly let my eyes fall shut.

Just then, Dazil, seeming to recall something, spoke up again:

“—Ah, right, and one more thing, Akane—”

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

“So, I’m telling you, the fan has nothing to do with wind spirits.”

“Not a spirit, you say. Then how does it…”

Today, as usual, Luvan wore his sour, unreadable expression while staring down the electric fan.

Ever since that night of drinking, I felt like our relationship had gotten just a little more casual.

“Hmph. ‘Only a specialist would know’—that is all you ever say. Aren’t you ashamed of knowing so little about the tools you yourself use?”

…Nope. I must have been imagining things. Nothing about this felt casual. He was still terrifying.

Having thoroughly examined the fan from every angle, top to bottom, Luvan jotted something down on a sheet of parchment and, satisfied, got to his feet.

That seemed to be it for today.

Recalling Dazil’s words from that night, I called out to Luvan:

“…Mr. Luvan, thank you for your hard work today. If you’d like, would you care to join me for lunch?”

“…”

What Dazil had told me that night of drinking.

It was this:

‘There’s actually another reason I brought him here. That guy—he’s quite the foodie, believe it or not. He can’t resist rare, unusual dishes. Remember that whole Lord of the Mountain business, when everyone ate the offering together? Well, he got sulky because we didn’t invite him. Every time word got back to him about how good your cooking was, his mood turned absolutely foul—it’s been rough lately, dealing with him. I think this time made up for a lot of it, though. …Well, whenever you’re in the mood; next time he finishes an investigation, if you could invite him to eat with you instead of merely having tea, I’d really appreciate it.’

Nervously, I waited for Luvan’s answer.

And his usual immediate "No, that’s fine" never came.

…Could Dazil really have been telling the truth?

“What’s the menu?”

“Huh?”

“I’m asking what the menu is.”

“Oh, um, Napolitan spaghetti.”

“Napo…?”

Luvan considered the name of the dish for a moment. "That’s a dish from your world, I take it?" he asked to confirm, before falling into thought once again. Then, with a small sigh, as if something had just occurred to him, he muttered, "That Dazil…" before flashing a bold, sly grin.

“Very well. I shall accept your hospitality.”

It seemed Dazil had been telling the truth after all. After eating the Napolitan, Luvan left in an exceptionally good mood.

After that, Luvan and I ended up sharing lunch together fairly often. Needless to say, my little sister, who had been subjected to so many lectures from him and simply could not bring herself to like him, was extremely displeased about it.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

“Come to think of it, Akane. You did properly hear about milk shells from Dazil before you cooked them, correct?”

“Huh? I heard the cooking method, sure?”

“I see… By the way, Akane. Were there any milk shells that turned out to be empty when you cooked them?”

“Huh…? I don’t really remember, honestly.”

“Milk shells are, you see, a type of creature that parasitizes the shells of dead mollusks.”

“Oh, like hermit crabs, then?”

“You had them drink sake beforehand, I assume? If you don’t get them drunk like that first, the contents have a nasty tendency to escape.”

“…Huh?”

“They’ll crawl into any opening, shell or not.”

“Wh-Wh-What…?”

“There are stories, in the fishing villages, of the escaped contents crawling into people’s ears at night, causing quite the disaster.”

“NOOOOOOOOOO!”

—From that day forward, milk shells were never once eaten in our household again.

Well, in reality, it was probably just a bit of local folklore—and more likely, Luvan’s own quiet little act of revenge against Dazil.

“My favorite food… ugh…”

Whether or not this resulted in Dazil crying himself to sleep that night remains, to this day, unconfirmed.

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The Forsaken Saintess and her Foodie Roadtrip in Another World (Light Novel), Volume 7 The Translator’s Afterword

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Volume Seven, The Translator’s Afterword

Well then, the long-awaited seventh volume has been translated. I hope the next volume comes out faster than this one. There isn’t much action in this volume. Generally speaking, it’s just a trip to the island and meeting Aria’s mother and her childhood friend. Let’s also hope there will be more action in the next volume. That said, “The Forsaken Saintess” is about food, and there is plenty of it, :).

In any case, without further ado, let’s move on to the statistics.

Chars in the volume: 431,934 (4,369 more than in volume 6)

Words in the volume: 75423 (1,174 more than in volume 6)

Mentions of the characters in the volume: 7348 (793 less than in volume 6)

This volume introduces ten new characters: Himari, Blond Prince, Physais, Sage, Sharie, Captain, Layla, Rail, Almas, Osmond.

The number of characters in the volume: 23

List of the characters (some of them were only briefly mentioned, but still): Rin, Aria, Sharie, Ville, Gomamiso, Ed, Himari, Xenon, Captain, Layla, Almas, Guildmaster Tori, Sage, Osmond, Blond Prince, Arthur, Rail, Noah, Rolf, Lyusia, Physais, Sasa, Sheila, Lusha.

Ten of the most mentioned characters:

1. Rin: 3321

2. Aria: 815

3. Sharie: 589

4. Ville: 583

5. Gomamiso: 323

6. Ed: 266

7. Himari: 230

8. Xenon: 225

9. Layla: 180

10. Captain: 163

Ten characters with the largest number of dialogues:

1. Rin: 486

2. Aria: 177

3. Ville: 174

4. Sharie: 80

5. Ed: 79

6. Xenon: 58

7. Gomamiso: 43

8. Layla: 43

9. Captain: 36

10. Himari: 27

Ten characters who have spoken the most words:

1. Rin: 6349

2. Ville: 2731

3. Aria: 1462

4. Sharie: 1443

5. Ed: 1203

6. Xenon: 929

7. Layla: 863

8. Captain: 757

9. Himari: 396

10. Gomamiso: 390

A sunny day, September 29, 2026.

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The Forsaken Saintess and her Foodie Roadtrip in Another World (Light Novel), Volume 7 The Author’s Afterword

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Volume Seven, The Author’s Afterword

It’s been a while; this is Yoneori. My sincerest apologies for the delayed publication. Even so, I’m deeply, deeply grateful that you’ve picked up this volume! I know I’ve kept you all waiting quite a while, but I’m truly happy to be able to bring Volume 7 before your eyes like this!

Also, by the time this volume is published, the anime adaptation of "The Forsaken Saintess and her Foodie Roadtrip in Another World" should be airing to great fanfare. Being able to publish this seventh volume, and the anime adaptation too… all of it is thanks to your enthusiastic support, truly, truly, thank you so much! Rin! Ville! The Gourmands! Gomamiso! They’re moving, talking, eating! As the author, there’s no greater joy than getting to watch these characters vividly enjoying their adventures…! I still find myself giddy, half-convinced it’s all a dream even now (laughs). I’d be delighted if you enjoy this alongside both the novel version of "The Forsaken Saintess and her Foodie Roadtrip in Another World" and the manga adaptation, illustrated by Kogami Nana-sensei, currently serialized in B’s-LOG COMIC!

This volume has everything from boat fishing to a shipboard party, hospitality, and more… The cooking scenes got my full effort this time as well. Enjoying a favorite pastime and then sitting down to a delicious meal—it’s wonderful, isn’t it…? And at last, contact with the Saint has been made, and Aria’s mom has made her appearance too. I sincerely hope this volume resonates with both your stomach and your heart, even just a little.

Finally, my thanks to Nitou Akane-sensei, who always draws such wonderful illustrations—sometimes adorable, sometimes cool… and to Kogami Nana-sensei, who draws such delicious-looking food scenes in the manga. To my editor, W-sama, who gave me full support and encouragement whenever I felt ready to give up. And to all of you readers who’ve picked up and read this work—thank you all, from this space here. Your support and thoughtfulness make me so happy I hardly know how to put it into words.

I hope to continue writing fun and exciting adventures from here on, so I’d be endlessly grateful if you continued to support me! I’ll keep working hard so that we can meet again in Volume 8!

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The Forsaken Saintess and her Foodie Roadtrip in Another World (Light Novel), Volume 7 Epilogue

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Volume Seven, Epilogue

“…Wow, that was incredibly fast.”

“Faster than I’d expected too.”

As I murmur while stirring the huge pot of soup hanging over the stove, Mr. Ville beside me nods, eyes fixed and brow furrowed.

After we came down from the mountain yesterday, the reply to Ms. Sharie’s letter to Osmond arrived at an alarmingly fast pace—first thing this morning. I won’t bother writing out the exact wording, since it just makes me mad, but let’s just say it was thoroughly obnoxious, dripping with condescension!

The content, by the way, is an invitation to meet at Osmond’s second residence the night after tomorrow—the night when the twin moons reach full. Infuriating how someone so shameless can still put on airs of elegance! Still, having until the day after tomorrow means I have more time and a wider range of dishes I can experiment with!

“For now, I’ll try making every dish that comes to mind today, narrow down the choices… Then tomorrow, we can go shopping and make the final adjustments for the day after tomorrow!”

“Hmm… when it comes to cooking, there’s not much I… no, I and the rest of us can actually contribute… sorry about that…”

“What are you talking about?! You’ve been handling the shopping, planning strategy, and so much more! I can’t leave the kitchen, so I really appreciate it!”

I pat Mr. Ville’s back gently, his shoulders drooping in apparent disappointment. Usually I’m the one being comforted like this, so it feels oddly refreshing being on the other side. He’s probably worried, thinking all the burden’s falling on me alone. Honestly, such a considerate person.

From my perspective, having them go shopping is helpful, of course, but they’ve also been discussing what we’ll do after we make our move—something I can’t quite wrap my head around on my own. Everyone’s handling things I can’t do, and that helps me tremendously!

Isn’t this exactly what "the right person for the right job" means?

“…Since it’s come up now, I’ll admit—when Ms. Layla’s fortune-telling said ‘trouble is coming,’ I did feel a little ‘ugh, here we go’ about it.”

“Rin…”

Given the role I’ve been placed in, I don’t object to interfering with the saint’s events. But when one thing after another keeps happening like this… I can’t help feeling like I just want to take a little break.

But then, seeing Ms. Aria, ready to put herself on the line for Ms. Sharie’s sake, and Mr. Ed, throwing his full support behind her, and Mr. Xenon, racking his brain to keep both of them out of harm’s way… and Mr. Ville, always looking out for me too…

“And at the same time, it made me realize all over again just how blessed I am with companions, compared to the saint’s group I met before.”

If I’d had a party as untrustworthy and undependable as theirs, even the simplest request would’ve felt terrifying to see through, and traveling together, no matter how briefly, would’ve been unbearable.

But right now, standing beside me are the Gourmands—people I trust and believe in from the bottom of my heart, a genuinely reassuring bunch.

So… that’s why…

“So right now, I feel like as long as I’m with everyone in the Gourmands, we can get through absolutely anything!”

“…Is that so? That’s an honor to hear…!”

Come to think of it, that’s how it has always been. Whenever I’m together with everyone, there hasn’t been a problem we couldn’t solve. So this time will be no different! We’ll expose the enemy’s wicked schemes, find out where Mr. Almas has gone, and grab ourselves a happy ending, no question!!!

“Let’s do this, Mr. Ville! With everyone together, there’s nothing to be afraid of!”

“Yeah! With your cooking, Rin, I’m sure things will work out this time too!”

With a huge smile, I clench my fist with determination. Mr. Ville flashes me a broad grin of his own and holds out his fist. As our fists bump together with a light tap, I somehow find myself unable to picture any future but a successful one.

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The Forsaken Saintess and her Foodie Roadtrip in Another World (Light Novel), Volume 7 Chapter 3

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Volume Seven, Chapter Three

Moving to a different street from the main road where Ms. Aria’s family home stands, we keep walking uphill along the river… after about an hour of walking, we finally arrive near Ms. Aria’s friend’s house…

“Oh… wow. This is…”

Spread out before us is a wide main street, with a river running along one side and shops lining the other. With the sun already fully up, there’s a fair amount of foot traffic, but here and there, quite a few shops still have their doors shut. There are street stalls set up too, sure, but there’s an oddly wide gap between them, and I don’t see any peddlers strolling through the street either. It’s not that it’s dead here, exactly, but there’s something deeply… unsettling about it.

Combined with an oddly tense atmosphere hanging in the air, the wind blowing down from the mountains rattles the closed shutters of the shops, only adding to the sense of unease. The dust that kicks up each time seems to add to the general feeling of decay too.

Not that we’re in any immediate life-threatening danger, but I can’t help gripping the wrapped bundle of Island Boar spare ribs and the unused belly and thigh meat a bit tighter.

“Not sure how to put it, but doesn’t it feel kind of tense around here?”

“…More run-down… than expected…”

“You could’ve wrapped that in a little more tact!”

“But… it’s true! It used to be… much livelier!”

Ms. Aria bluntly voices what I have hesitated to say out loud. I’m not even sure she understands what I mean by “tact,” but I end up blurting out a retort before I can stop myself. Beside me, as I quickly cover my mouth, Ms. Aria pays my remark no mind, clenching her fist tight, her face tinged with indignation.

Setting aside the unsettling atmosphere I’m picking up on, there does seem to be a decent amount of foot traffic to my eyes. Guess to Ms. Aria, this counts as "run-down." Maybe this kind of judgment only comes from having grown up here.

And on top of that, I’ve somewhat noticed—could the source of this tense feeling be that among the people loitering around town, there are some seriously rough-looking characters mixed in? Not the nicest way to put it, but they’ve got that unmistakable thug look about them…

“So, we’re going to Sallie’s place, right? Come on, Aria. Let’s get moving.”

“…Mm. Hurry, Rin.”

“Oh! Okay!”

Maybe we stand out as outsiders. The group loitering in the alley between two shops suddenly turns and glares at us. Mr. Ed, the first to notice their gaze, moves to shield Ms. Aria, and at the same time, Mr. Ville and Mr. Xenon, carrying the seasoning box that was so useful on the ship, naturally position themselves to block their gaze from reaching me.

Being surrounded by a wall of men makes it much less intense, but those unpleasant, appraising gazes keep following us!

Perhaps bothered by those stares, Gomamiso growls deep in its throat, so I pick it up and stroke it for a while. Ms. Aria, leading the way, suddenly stops in front of a certain shop.

“Th-This is the place…”

“Mm. Sallie’s place.”

“How should I put it… quite atmospheric, isn’t it…?”

“…Ngh… it used to be… different!”

“Yeah. The last time we came, it was packed with customers and really lively. It wasn’t this dirty, either.”

Ms. Aria’s brow furrows dramatically, cheeks puffed in a sulk, while beside her, Mr. Ed nods in agreement, tilting his head suspiciously.

I completely understand how the two of them feel. Because, sure, the frosted glass window fittings facing the main street have mosaic glass inlaid here and there, the door’s carved with a relief of vines and grape leaves, and the whole place gives off an elegant, refined atmosphere… but…

But unfortunately, it is incredibly run-down! The brass doorknob and decorations, which must once have been polished to a brilliant shine, are completely tarnished. The name on the sign is so grimy that it’s difficult to read, and although some of the windowpanes have been repaired, they’re still slightly damaged. The door is covered in dirt, too.

At least there is an “OPEN” sign hanging outside, and I can sense someone inside, so I can just about conclude that the shop hasn’t gone out of business.

Given how lovely the original construction clearly is, this is such a shame!

“…No use standing around. I’m going in!”

“Ms. Aria!?”

No chance to stop her. Without a moment’s hesitation, Ms. Aria opens the door and steps in. Should I follow her, or wait? My movement freezes for a beat, caught in that hesitation. No, well, it looks like the shop’s open, so there shouldn’t be any issue going in, but with the exterior looking like this, I couldn’t help feeling a bit hesitant…

But setting aside my own hesitation, Mr. Ed and the other men step through the door one after another without hesitation too. Everyone’s so fearless! I guess I can’t afford to fall behind either!

“Um… excuse me…”

…Despite that resolve, I still can’t exactly stride into the shop confidently. My voice comes out barely more than a squeezed-out whisper, and my steps naturally turn to sneaking rather than walking.

Even so, when I cautiously step in, I’m surprised to find that the interior is actually well maintained.

The shelves lining the shop’s walls are polished spotless down to every corner, and the display table in the center has a lace tablecloth draped over it, with legged stands creating varying heights across the same table—meticulous attention to detail. Potted plants sit atop what look like repurposed chairs scattered around the shop too. Given the rough exterior, I’d braced myself for the worst, but stepping inside, I can genuinely feel the atmosphere of a shop that’s been cherished by locals for years.

Still, there’s an undeniably dim quality to the place too, probably from the marks left all over the walls, clearly showing someone had just thrashed the place, and the chipped and broken edges on the shelves and display table.

“Ah… welco… me…”

As I tilt my head at the oddly mismatched atmosphere, a faint creaking sound reaches my ears. The source is a small door set behind the counter. It opens just slightly, and a young woman timidly peeks her face through the gap.

Her gaze, wandering nervously around the shop as if fearing something, lands on us, and the very next moment…

“Sallie!”

“Ari!”

The fear in her voice and expression instantly brightens into pure delight. The woman darts out from the back through the swing door beside the counter, and at the same time, Ms. Aria, slipping free of Mr. Ed’s hand, dashes over too, beaming with a full smile.

Ah, I see. So this is Ms. Sallie.

The two of them embrace with enough force to nearly tackle each other, laughing brightly as they spin around in front of the counter together. Hmm. It feels like I’ve seen a scene like this in some anime movie before, or maybe not… wasn’t that one a boy-and-girl combo, though?

Right as I start to worry whether they might get dizzy, the two finally stop their dance-like spinning. Seems they’ve spun themselves out to their satisfaction. Without even losing their breath, the two girls naturally clasp hands in front of the counter, perfectly at ease.

“It’s been so long, Ari! I’m glad you look so well.”

“Hehe! It’s been… a little while!”

“Fufu. Can three years really count as ‘a little while’?”

Ms. Sallie, still gripping Ms. Aria’s hand tightly, tilts her head with a smile that blooms like a flower. The anxious expression from a moment ago has completely melted away into this gentle warmth. With her gently wavy flaxen hair and pale green eyes, she gives off the vibe of a warm, sunny spring afternoon. Standing beside Ms. Aria, it’s almost like a spring fairy next to a snow spirit. Having a cute older-sister type and a beautiful older-sister type standing side by side is genuinely a feast for the eyes!

Setting aside the jealous, burning monster-husband glare, even though the other person’s a woman, watching the two of them deepen their bond like this is genuinely heartwarming.

“Ah, right. Sallie, Sallie. So, um, I made more friends!”

“Friends? Come to think of it, there’s more of you than last time you visited, right?”

Ms. Aria looks at me with sparkling eyes at almost exactly the same moment that Ms. Sallie turns her gaze toward me. I’d been happily watching the two fairies frolic about, and suddenly the attention is getting redirected toward me!? This is completely unexpected!

The illustration’s description: Sallie and Aria hold hands and spin around.

Still blinking in confusion, I move closer to Ms. Aria when she beckons me, only to be promptly pushed right in front of Ms. Sallie. Taller than me, but shorter than Ms. Aria. Even hidden under her loose apron, she’s got that enviably nice figure where everything’s in just the right proportion.

“Mm! So, Rin, Sallie. Sallie, Rin.”

“…Your explanations are as terrible as ever, Ari…”

First, looking at me, she gestures toward Sallie with her palm, then looking at Sallie, gestures toward me the same way.

Um… so first she introduced Sallie to me, then introduced me to Sallie? I managed to somehow piece that together from the sequence of gestures, but if I’d only heard the words alone, there’s no way I’d have caught it!

A little exasperated, but still glowing with the joy of reuniting with an old friend, Sallie’s expression has softened even more than before… just watching that smile feels healing.

But since she’s gone through the trouble of introducing us, I can’t just stand here doing nothing. Suppressing the urge to melt into a goofy grin, I reach out my own hand.

“Ah, um… my name is Rin. I’m in the same party as Ms. Aria, and I’m in charge of cooking for everyone.”

“Fufu. Thank you for the polite introduction. I’m Sharie, Ari… Aria’s childhood friend and the daughter of the owner of the accessory shop ‘Whisper of the Crystal.’”

“Ms. Sharie, of ‘Whisper of the Crystal.’ What a lovely name!”

Ms. Sallie—Ms. Sharie—smiles gently as she takes my hand. Her hand is soft and warm. The shop’s name is lovely, but Ms. Sharie’s own name has such a beautiful ring to it, too.

…Wait, come to think of it, I’d assumed Ms. Sallie’s real name was Sally, but it’s actually Sharie? Way more unexpected than I bargained for! I mean, "Sallie" as a nickname I can sort of understand, but how’d that turn into "Sally"?

“…When she was little, she couldn’t say ‘Sharie’ properly… so she used to call herself ‘Salie’… Cute, right?”

“That’s incredibly cute. Now I get why Ms. Layla called her Little Sally.”

Maybe I look pretty puzzled, because Ms. Aria leans in close and whispers the explanation quietly. To think it originated from a little kid’s lisping self-introduction…! Little baby-talking Ms. Sharie must have been unbelievably adorable.

“When did you get back?”

“Yesterday! Have you been well?”

“Eh, ah… yeah… somehow, I guess…”

While I’m off happily lost in my own warm imaginings, the fairies’ little playful reunion continues… but the conversation between the two, hands still clasped tight, doesn’t seem to keep flowing after that. Ms. Sharie, still holding Ms. Aria’s hand, glances around the shop with a worried look.

“…Did something happen…?”

“…Will you listen?”

“Mm! Of course!”

Where did that cheerful smile from a moment ago go…? Ms. Sharie’s brows steadily drop lower and lower. And it seems to reach its limit the moment Ms. Aria nods with a firm, resolute look on her face. A film of water forms over her pale green eyes, and in an instant, it turns into pearl-like drops spilling down.

At this unexpected turn, while the rest of us stand there stunned, the first to move is Ms. Aria, her expression still set firm. She gently strokes Ms. Sharie’s back as she silently sheds tears, pulling off an absolutely breathtakingly handsome move.

“Ari… Ari… I, right now…”

“It’s okay. Take your time… start wherever you can… okay? Everyone’s here too.”

“Okay…! Okay…!”

Ms. Aria’s hand never once leaves Ms. Sharie’s back as her words catch in her throat. And finally, that warmth seems to have melted through to the girl’s heart. Sniffling several times, Ms. Sharie starts speaking, bit by bit. Mr. Ed brings over a chair that had been serving as a plant stand for Ms. Sharie to sit down, while Mr. Ville goes to flip the sign to "CLOSED." At the same time, Ms. Aria’s gaze pleads with us, "listen along too, everyone," so we all move in close to Ms. Sharie, keeping a comfortable distance so as not to overwhelm her, settling in to listen.

“You know how this shop was started by my mom and dad together, right, Ari? …Well, Mom passed away years ago, but…”

“Mm. Your mom… was so kind…”

“Even so, I kept working hard with Dad, and we managed to keep the shop going…”

That is how Ms. Sharie begins describing her current situation, and it quickly becomes clear just how serious it is.

Apparently, this shop was originally a little accessory boutique where her father, a skilled magic crystal ore craftsman, made the pieces, and her mother handled sales at the counter. About ten years ago, her mother passed away from illness, and they’d considered closing the shop once. But remembering her mother’s smiling face saying, "because I love this shop," father and daughter somehow pulled themselves together, splitting and supporting each other’s roles—her father helping with customer service, Ms. Sharie helping with crafting the products—and kept the shop running together.

…Despite all that…

“Actually, it’s been about a month now since Dad’s come home. And on top of that, right around then, some people started harassing me too…!”

Tears welling in her eyes, Ms. Sharie explains that about a month ago, her father left home saying, "I’ve got some business to attend to," but even now, a full month later, he still hasn’t come back. Apparently, he was already the type to head out for materials-related errands and get so absorbed in gathering magic crystal ore that he wouldn’t come home for a week, so at first, Ms. Sharie just thought, "There he goes again.”

But going a whole month without any word at all, even she’s started worrying it might not just be him getting absorbed in mining—that maybe he’s gotten caught up in some kind of incident. And on top of that, recently, the owner of a shop called "Society of Soil’s Blessing,” a man named Osmond, has been harassing her, pestering her to "keep him company" (to put it politely). Total stereotype, but I couldn’t help picturing some greasy old fox of a man.

And what’s worse, since Ms. Sharie refused his utterly indecent proposal, he’s taken it out on her out of spite, ordering his underlings to sabotage Whisper of the Crystal’s business…! It sounds like the products Ms. Sharie worked hard to make have been getting smashed or straight-up stolen by his men.

“WHAAAAT!? What the heck is that!?”

“That’s the WORST kind of guy!”

“Just because she rejected him, he goes and wrecks her shop? That’s beyond awful! And seriously, of course she’d turn down an offer like that!”

“Absolutely! The very person making a proposal that vile is the strange one here! …And more importantly, destroying and stealing merchandise—isn’t that just plain criminal!?”

At Ms. Aria’s and Mr. Ed’s indignant words, I couldn’t help nodding along vigorously too! What’s with that spiteful retaliation!? No matter how badly you were turned down, who’d want to associate with someone willing to casually commit crimes as harassment for it!?

And on top of all that, the repeated harassment has worn Ms. Sharie down mentally too, and she hasn’t been eating or sleeping properly for the past three days… utterly, thoroughly guilty on all counts!

Th-This makes me SO MAD!!!

“It may not be the most appropriate way to put it, but ‘unworthy of being called a man’ seems to fit him perfectly.”

“He’s simply taking his resentment out on you. You must have been terribly frightened. But we are here with you… so please, don’t be afraid.”

Mr. Ville is remarkably composed, carefully choosing calm words and a steady tone despite his furrowed brow, as though he doesn’t want to frighten Ms. Sharie any further. And Mr. Xenon, gently supporting her wounded heart, is practically the very model of what a priest should be. Such a contrast to me, who’s already boiled over instantly like a kettle set on high.

But even with their voices staying calm, both Mr. Ville and Mr. Xenon are clearly cloaked in an aura of pure fury.

“Ms. Sharie, have you consulted the security force about this?”

“…They… won’t take it seriously at all… they just keep saying ‘maybe you turned him down the wrong way’…”

“What’s that…? That’s… not acceptable!”

“The security force… I see…”

At Mr. Ville’s question, Ms. Sharie shakes her head weakly. The color’s drained from both her cheeks and lips, and her tightly clenched hands tremble faintly. Whether that’s from anger or fear… probably both, I’d guess. The moment I notice this, the smoldering flame of anger deep in Mr. Ville’s strawberry-colored eyes flares up violently.

At the same time, seeing Ms. Sharie hang her head so despondently must’ve pushed Ms. Aria past her limit. Clearly furious, she rises to her feet, driven by anger. I can’t help clenching my own fists too. What is even going on, getting turned away for a reason like that!? What’s the security force even doing, letting such blatant criminal behavior slide!? Isn’t that outright dereliction of duty!?

Beside us, still boiling with indignation, Mr. Ed and Mr. Xenon’s brows are knit tight too, and Mr. Ville has his hand to his chin, deep in thought.

“Um… sorry for the naive question, but does ‘Society of Soil’s Blessing’ really have enough power to bribe the whole security force like that?”

“It’s not so much that they have political power… They’re a major dealer involved in mining, transporting, and selling magic crystal ore. And there are rumors that they have a behind-the-scenes arrangement with this town’s administrator… So…”

Could this be the guy in charge Ms. Aria said she couldn’t stand!? And on top of that, connected with the town administrator—the very person Ms. Layla mentioned, who’s held the position even before the lord changed over…!

Come to think of it, last night, Ms. Layla’s regulars were grumbling about how "the officials are useless"—so this is what was behind Ms. Sharie’s complaint getting dismissed!? If Osmond’s tied to the town administrator, then the security force, who work under the town administrator, would be currying favor with Osmond too!? Could it be that the previous lord had kept them in check, and they took advantage of all the chaos surrounding the change of lord to start doing whatever they pleased?

“Ari… I don’t know what to do anymore…! If I’d known this would happen, I never should have been so carefree and assumed it was just the usual thing…!”

“…Sallie… It’s okay. It’s going to be okay…!”

“…If I hadn’t ignored Osmond’s harassment and just gone looking for Dad instead, maybe I would’ve found him by now…!”

Ms. Aria strokes the trembling friend’s back, but Ms. Sharie’s grief only keeps growing.

Well, that’s understandable too. Dismissing it as "the usual thing" and letting it slide, only to realize it’s already been nearly a month… of course she’d be consumed with self-blame.

But what can we possibly do for her, having heard only a bit of the story so far…

“…Ngh!!! I’ll help too! Brought lots of souvenir meat… so first, eat… and get your strength back, okay?”

“What’s gotten into you all of a sudden, Ari? I appreciate the thought, but I’m really not that hungry right now…”

“Can’t get strength… without eating! Rin’s cooking is super delicious! Eat, and you’ll feel better!”

“Eh, my cooking!?”

Growing impatient with this stuck situation, Ms. Aria bursts out with this declaration. At her sudden outburst, Ms. Sharie’s eyes go round with surprise, and my own voice cracks in shock. Probably out of a genuine desire to cheer Ms. Sharie up. Ms. Aria’s misty, round ice-colored eyes turn to me, as if she’s begging for something.

Her thoughtfulness really means a lot, I think, and there’s the old saying about not being able to fight on an empty stomach too. And more than anything, it makes me genuinely happy that Ms. Aria believes my cooking can lift someone’s spirits… but being called out so suddenly clearly startles both Ms. Sharie and me equally!

But Mr. Ed, whom I’d expected to stop Ms. Aria, along with Mr. Ville and Mr. Xenon, are all looking at me with an expression like "ah, of course, that could work.”

“Indeed. Rather than sitting here face-to-face having a serious discussion, Miss Sharie might be able to take her mind off things if we talked over a meal.”

He had a point. Hunger tended to make people think more negatively, and a warm meal might soothe her spirits as well. Mr. Ville shoots me a meaningful glance, and I nod back firmly, giving my "yes." Leave that to someone who’s in charge of the Gourmands’ meals.

Plus, if getting Ms. Sharie’s feelings settled makes it easier for her to talk about this whole situation, that should make it easier to gather information too. Honestly, with me, a total stranger, sitting here, drawing much out of Ms. Sharie in her current state would probably be quite difficult regardless. Better to move in a direction where I can actually be useful, rather than just sitting here as a useless decoration—that’d be good for everyone!

All right! Let’s throw my full support behind Ms. Aria’s plan here!

“Also, now that we’ve heard all this, we should let Aria’s family know we’ll be staying at Ms. Sharie’s home for the time being.”

“Ville and I will head out to buy supplies for tomorrow onward, and let them know at the same time.”

“True… They’d be worried if we didn’t go back or contact them at all. Please take care of that too.”

Hmm, hmm. So the proposed grouping is: Mr. Ville and Mr. Xenon head out, while Ms. Aria, Mr. Ed, and I stay behind. It will certainly be reassuring for Ms. Sharie to have her close childhood friend beside her while she is so exhausted, and with Mr. Ed around as a capable man, we can handle things even if trouble breaks out. Perfect!

Considering transportation, maybe I should go along with Mr. Ville and Mr. Xenon too… but they’ll be walking all over the town and come back starving. Thinking about it that way, maybe it’s better for me to stay here and have food ready when they get back.

“Leave it to us! We’ll guard the fort perfectly, and take on taste-testing duty too!”

“Don’t worry, go ahead…!”

“…The fort-guarding part’s fine, but leaving you two as taste-testers, I feel like there won’t be anything left for us…”

“I’m extremely concerned about that aspect as well.”

How reassuring it is to see Mr. Ed and Ms. Aria giving a thumbs-up from either side of Ms. Sharie! And in stark contrast, the worried expressions on Mr. Ville and Mr. Xenon as they head off! For what it’s worth, I can sense Ms. Sharie shrinking back a little at the couple’s lovey-dovey display too… but their abilities are beyond question! Please rest assured on that front! Right?

“I… I really can’t thank you enough for everything you’re doing! And please take care, both of you…!”

As we settle the plan so fast, Ms. Sharie bows deeply. Along with Ms. Aria gripping her hand tightly and Mr. Ed waving beside her, Gomamiso and I see off Mr. Ville and Mr. Xenon too. In contrast to Mr. Ville and Mr. Xenon, who keep glancing back worriedly again and again, Gomamiso, perched on my shoulder, remains blissfully indifferent to it all.

“…Well, we ended up deciding all this on our own, but would it be all right to borrow your garden and kitchen for cooking?”

“Of course. If you’d like, I can show you around the kitchen as well.”

Ms. Sharie gestures with her palm toward the door behind the counter she’d emerged from earlier. It seems to separate the shop area from the living quarters.

Following Ms. Sharie through the door, I find another door directly in front of us. A bit off to the right, there’s another door too, with what looks like a staircase visible beyond it.

“The door right in front is my father’s workshop and product storage. The kitchen’s through this door here. Upstairs, past the stairs, is our living space.”

“I see. The layout’s been designed with convenience of movement in mind.”

Before I even have time to wonder which door leads where, Ms. Sharie heads for the right-side door. It makes sense, actually—keeping the workshop and storage close to the shop entrance would make restocking easier.

“Excuse the intrusion…”

“It’s a cramped kitchen, but please use it if it works for you.”

The kitchen I enter looks like a perfectly ordinary household kitchen in this world. Set into the far wall is an alcove-type hearth stove, with a simple wooden bench that seems to double as a work seat and rest spot, plus a small chair in front of it. A large table, likely a work surface, sits in the middle of the room.

The wall shelves hold what look like jarred seasonings, dried herbs bundled and hung from strung-up cords, polished pots, wooden spatulas, and ladles hanging about… this really is the picture of a fantasy-world kitchen.

A bit removed from the hearth is a smaller door, probably the back entrance leading outside.

“Still… Are you really sure it’s all right for you to make food for me? I hope I’m not causing you trouble.”

“Not at all! I love cooking!”

“I’m so glad! Actually, I’d heard quite a bit from Ari’s mom about how Ari’s been eating delicious food. I’ve been a little curious about your cooking, Ms. Rin.”

“W-Wow! The word’s spread further than I expected!”

Getting swept up in the fantasy kitchen, I wave off Ms. Sharie’s apologetic look, and her expression instantly brightens.

Since she is Ms. Aria’s childhood friend, maybe Ms. Layla mentioned it while sharing news about her daughter? To think our party’s food situation had spread this far without me even knowing! Still, if that kind of information’s already laid the groundwork, maybe she wouldn’t be too wary of me preparing food.

…That said, Ms. Sharie’s hearth has neither ash nor firewood in it… Clearly, it hasn’t been used in days. She said her appetite had disappeared, but this feels like a pretty serious situation, honestly.

“Hmm… something relatively easy to make, that warms both body and heart…?”

Something warm, gentle on the stomach, fairly light, and simple to make… hmm… hmmm…? Thinking it through, there are actually quite a few conditions to juggle here.

“…Oh… choosing what to make is important, sure, but…”

Glancing at Ms. Sharie again while mulling over the menu, dark circles cling heavily under her eyes. Easy to guess she’s barely slept, weighed down by daily anxiety and mounting stress. Even planning something light, her actual physical condition is a real concern. With days of poor sleep and no appetite, suddenly having food might shock her stomach.

“If you’re all right with it, perhaps you should get some rest while I prepare the food, Ms. Sharie.”

“Eh, but… wouldn’t that just get in your way, Ms. Rin…? Especially with you cooking for me, I can’t just be the one sleeping…”

“I’ll be using the garden for some of the work, too, so it really won’t be a problem at all! Besides, you need to rest whenever you have the chance!”

“Just as Rin says…! Sallie, rest for a little while, okay? Your dark circles are… really bad…”

“That’s right. Aria’s here now too, so having someone around might make it easier to relax and rest, don’t you think? I’ll move the bench somewhere it won’t be in the way too!”

To Ms. Sharie, still hesitant and apologetic, Ms. Aria and Mr. Ed offer backup fire. Coming from a childhood friend and familiar face rather than from me, a near-stranger, must carry a lot more persuasive weight!

And on top of that, right in front of Ms. Sharie, who’s still hesitating, Mr. Ed gives his short staff a flick, and the bench and chair in front of the hearth glide smoothly over to the wall. As if to deliver the final push, a blanket drops from somewhere above… This is practically the same as telling her, “Now lie down and rest here!”

Nice work, Mr. Ed!

“In that case… perhaps I’ll rest for just a little while. I do feel bad making Ms. Rin work while I lie down, though…”

Maybe our feelings got through to her. Lowering her weary eyes slightly, letting out a breath, Ms. Sharie lies down on the bench by the wall. Sitting in the chair beside her, Ms. Aria gently strokes her head, and before long, quiet breathing signals she’s fallen asleep. Hopefully this’ll shrink those dark circles from grizzly-bear size down to something more manageable…

Either way, with Ms. Sharie resting now, it’s true that this makes it a lot easier for me to get to work!

“All right, then. Since you’ve kindly given me permission, I’ll deploy the Camping Car.”

I open the door beside the hearth as quietly as possible and, just as I expected, find myself in what appears to be a back garden. I suppose they normally use it for hanging laundry? Ropes have been strung between the trees, and something resembling a wash tub has been propped up near the base of one of them to dry.

The long, narrow back garden, squeezed between the big river and the shop building like an eel’s bed, seems fine for setting up the Camping Car.

“All right! Let’s park the Camping Car right here! Setting up the tarp like usual should keep the coming-and-going out of sight, so it shouldn’t get noticed.”

No sooner do I think that than a heavy thud and impact ring through Ms. Sharie’s back garden. Catching the island sunlight, the flawless car body gleams brightly. …Well, probably only I, the skill holder, and Ms. Aria and Mr. Ed, who have boarding permissions set, can actually perceive this happening.

Just to keep anyone from seeing us enter or leave—and that I’m using some kind of skill—we pitch a tarp in front of the Camping Car, which is parked beside one of the garden trees. Yup, right, same setup as at Ms. Aria’s family home.

Silently thanking the high-performance concealment effect, I carry usable ingredients from the fridge over to Ms. Sharie’s kitchen. Plenty of leftover Island Boar meat, island vegetables gifted again after the show at Ms. Layla’s tavern, and a baguette that is reputed to be delicious. Plus some milk left over in an awkward amount, bought before departure, and so on and so forth…

Cooking in the kitchen while Ms. Sharie’s sleeping right there feels a little odd, but if there’s no sign that I had used the kitchen, I figured it might raise suspicion—"where did you cook this?”

“Oh! Right, I’d better start by lighting the hearth.”

Getting fired up to start cooking, the very next moment, facing a hearth with not a single ember left, I can’t help but slump in defeat. Right, of course! Not like the Camping Car, where you just twist a knob, and the burner lights right up.

Thankfully, firewood’s stacked beside the hearth, so let’s make use of that.

…Still, though, this whole hassle of getting a fire going might be part of why Ms. Sharie’s appetite never came back. With me at full energy, I can enjoy even fire-starting like this, but doing it while your spirits are down would be tough… I think to myself, while having Mr. Ed light the fire with magic for me.

“Maybe bread porridge would be a good staple dish. It’s gentle on the stomach, and I can prepare it with either a sweet or salty flavor.”

Once the fire is successfully burning, I put a pot of water over it and bring it to a boil for the preliminary cooking. Then I tear up the baguette, add just a tiny bit of sugar for seasoning, and let it simmer gently… Yup, the process is incredibly simple.

Finally, I add the milk and let it simmer once more, and it’s done.

…

…

…Oh… That finished up faster than I expected, honestly…

Such a simple process, but what else could I do… fry up some bacon for those with hearty appetites, grate some cheese, prepare jam and honey for those who like it sweet…?

‘Hey, want me to lend a paw?’

“You mean lending a cat’s paw? Hmm… is there any job you could actually do, Miso…?”

Right now there’s not really enough work to need an extra hand… or paw, and even if I tried to think of something Gomamiso could actually do… nothing really comes to mind.

Still, flatly turning the cat down like that feels a little guilt-inducing.

“Ah, in that case, want to taste-test for me?”

‘Taste-test! That’s my specialty!’

I scoop up a bite of the finished bread porridge, let it cool thoroughly, and hold it out to Gomamiso. The moment I do, it dives right in with gusto.

‘Milk and bread, soft and yummy! Me, love this one!’

“Glad to hear it. Do you think it’s good enough to serve to everyone?”

‘It’s great! Actually, this me want more!’

Munching and slurping it down in a flash, Gomamiso lets out a satisfied nyah-ha of a laugh. Wiping the bit of porridge off its mouth, a contented purr rumbles out of it.

Technically, you’re not supposed to feed bread to cats, but Gomamiso’s a magical beast, so that’s not an issue here, thankfully. Being able to eat anything really is a nice trait to have.

“Hmm, hmm… This definitely won’t be enough for everyone, so maybe I should make a porchetta-style dish with the boar meat as the main course!”

Looking at the Island Boar belly cut while planning the menu, I suddenly get a craving for one of those rolled roast meat dishes I’ve seen on a video site. Since I’m at it, I think I’ll combine a few delicious-looking recipes I’ve come across before. Hopefully, delicious × delicious will equal super delicious!

Once that’s decided, I’ll start by sautéing the apples for the filling.

Temporarily moving the pot of bread porridge over to the work table, I put a footed frying pan—borrowed from near the hearth—over the fire. I think this kind of pan’s called a "spider," or something along those lines?

While I wait for the pan to heat up, I thoroughly wash the apples, peel them, and cut them into cubes. I’ll boil the peels later and use the water to make some fragrant tea.

“Now I just sauté them really, really well in butter, then add a little sugar to give them some color…”

Adding butter to the heated pan, letting it melt with a sizzle, I dump in the diced apples all at once. Stirring constantly to avoid burning it, once the butter’s coated everything evenly, I sprinkle in a little sugar. Cooking this down thoroughly, the savory scent of butter and the sweet aroma of apples fill the kitchen, giving off a bit of a bakery vibe.

Well, yup… these little apples aren’t destined to become a sweet pie. They’re going to be wrapped in meat instead.

“…Smells… really good…”

“Looks like you’re off to a flying start, Rin!”

Probably drawn in by the delicious smell, Ms. Aria and Mr. Ed peek in from behind me together. The apples in the pan have just turned a lovely caramel color.

“How’s Ms. Sharie doing?”

“Pretty tired… seems like.”

“Guess having Aria’s presence nearby is putting her at ease? She’s fast asleep right now.”

I glance sideways at Ms. Sharie, and she does seem to be sleeping properly now. Even if it’s only a nap, the important thing is that she’s getting some rest. I have been a little worried about her.

“I’m glad to hear that. Would you like to taste the filling?”

“Yes!!!”

“As if we’d say no!”

I scoop a little of the sautéed apple onto two spoons and hold them out. Ms. Aria and Mr. Ed come bounding over with springy steps, trying to keep their voices down. Even though the apples have only just been taken off the heat and are probably still hot, they bravely taste them. Their faces immediately melt into happy smiles.

“Sweet! Delicious!”

“You said it’s a filling, so is this going into a pie or something? A dessert?”

“No. I’m actually planning to roll it up inside the Island Boar meat.”

“Inside… the meat!?”

“This sweet apples, with meat!?”

Both Ms. Aria and Mr. Ed’s eyes go wide with surprise. Shocked at "fruit with meat!?"—but sweet-seasoned meat dishes aren’t exactly rare, right?

Plus, pork and fruit pair wonderfully together, and I think it’d suit Island Boar meat too! Definitely worth trying out!

“And now, what I bring out is a slab of Island Boar belly!”

I cut into the Island Boar belly, its layers of lean meat and fat beautifully stacked, and open it out like a book—or rather, spread it wide while reducing its thickness by about half, until it’s easier to work with.

Is it just my imagination, or do Ms. Aria and Mr. Ed look a little disappointed watching this? Well, I suppose the meat does lose its unmistakable “classic belly cut” appearance. But please bear with me here, for the sake of even cooking… okay? I’ll work hard to make it worth it!

“And now, the filling goes right on here!”

“Wow! You’re really rolling the apples in!”

“…I can’t… imagine the taste…”

Once it’s spread out into a manageable shape, I brush on herb oil made from olive oil, salt, and a mix of chopped herbs. Then, as the core filling, I lay on the sautéed apple mix once it’s cooled slightly.

I’m drawing on memory here—roast pork wrapped around plums I saw once at a hotel buffet on a family trip long ago, or that new regional dish of sliced pork belly wrapped around apple and grilled. Those flashed to mind as references.

Peeking in at my work from behind, Ms. Aria and Mr. Ed let out a startled little gasp.

What catches their eye is the sight of the boar meat’s red and white, the green of the herb oil, and now the golden filling piled on top. Feeling their anxious gazes practically drilling into my back, I roll it up tightly from one end, careful not to let the filling spill out, and…

“Whoa! It’s a whole roast-sized chunk of meat!”

“So round!”

“Now that it’s rolled up, it looks pretty impressive, doesn’t it?”

In the end, what sits before us is a genuinely impressive-looking meat roll. Imagine making a ring with both hands using your thumbs and index fingers—that’s roughly the diameter of the meat roll. Does this illustrate the scale? Ms. Aria and Mr. Ed’s eyes widen at the size too.

Once this gets roasted, it should turn into quite the dish, don’t you think?

“All that’s left is to pop this in the oven with some side dishes, and it’s done!”

“I can’t wait! What are you going to roast it with?”

“I’m thinking canary radishes, snow-carrots, onions, and potatoes roasted alongside it.”

I grease a baking tray brought from the Camping Car with butter to prevent sticking, then place the rolled boar meat right in the center with a grand thud. I scatter roughly chopped canary radishes and snow carrots, onion wedges, and halved potatoes around it, then drizzle the remaining herb oil over everything, and the prep’s complete.

Once I slide the tray into the Camping Car’s oven, all that remains is to leave things to the oven. Well, after it has roasted for a while, I plan to turn over the meat and vegetables and baste them with the juices collected in the tray to keep them from drying out.

“…Now then, I wonder how this’ll turn out…”

I feel like I made quite a bit of noise doing all this, but Ms. Sharie shows no sign of waking up at all. She must have been really exhausted.

I have no idea what lies ahead, but first and foremost, we need to help her recover her energy!

Watching Ms. Aria carefully readjust the blanket that’s about to slip off Ms. Sharie, I start mentally putting together today’s side dishes with the remaining ingredients on hand.

“We’re back, Rin.”

“The wonderful smell has spread all the way outside, Rin!”

“Welcome back, both of you! I actually had a wonderful time, thanks to both of you!”

By the time the sun had fully sunk below the horizon, Mr. Ville and Mr. Xenon returned, mountains of supplies on their shoulders. The interior of "Whisper of the Crystal" at that moment must have been wrapped in an especially warm, cozy atmosphere.

That wasn’t just because the mountain of dishes I’d finished cooking matched, or even exceeded, whatever Mr. Ville and Mr. Xenon had bought. It was also thanks to Ms. Sharie, whose face and mood had brightened considerably since earlier, diligently helping clean up the shop.

Once she’d woken from her nap and found me still cooking away, Ms. Sharie had said, "In that case, let’s make a place where everyone can eat together," and turned the shop’s tables into a dining space.

The effect of even a short bout of solid sleep is genuinely incredible!

Of course, the relief of having her close childhood friend back, and knowing she was there to support her, probably helped push her mental recovery along too.

…And on top of that…

“Here you are, working so hard to help me even though you barely know me, Ms. Rin—I realized I couldn’t just keep letting myself fall apart!”

…Ms. Sharie had said this, resolve in her eyes, rag in hand, and her smile then was dazzlingly bright.

From that point on, her revived work ethic could only be described as "impressive.”

She’d re-draped the cloth over the large table that had once served as a display counter, and set a vase of flowers picked from the garden at its center. Nothing extravagant, but the finished look radiates a warm atmosphere just from a glance.

The rest of the shop space, too, had been properly patched up—maybe with Ms. Aria and Mr. Ed helping out. Just clearing away that unsettled atmosphere makes the whole place feel this much brighter.

“All right. Let’s get to eating!”

“Yay!”

“We all worked super hard, so we’re absolutely starving!”

As I carry the finished dishes over to the table—the fruits of the stay-behind group’s hard work—the hungry monsters are the first to cheer. They have been working alongside Ms. Sharie while I concentrated on cooking, after all. No wonder their stomachs are growling at full volume.

“This is incredible! Worth every bit of effort we made hurrying back!”

“We have so many things to show you, Rin, but after seeing food like this… Could it wait until after we eat?”

“Of course! Let’s fill our stomachs first, then I’ll listen to everything at leisure.”

Alongside the big plate of the main dish, several small side dishes and bowls, plus a large pot of the staple food still steaming hot, Mr. Ville and Mr. Xenon rush off restlessly to set down the supplies they’re carrying in the kitchen.

Yup. The pair who’d made the long round trip delivering the message and shopping must be just as hungry.

‘This me, fine, though!’

“Well, sure. You’ve just been stretched out lazing at my feet this whole time, after all.”

‘But my laziness is kinda cute?’

“That’s infuriating!”

Licking its front paw with leisurely slurping sounds, Gomamiso is the only one here looking full of energy. While the stay-behind team, myself included, worked hard the whole time, it’d just been snoozing away comfortably.

…Well, whatever. It wasn’t as though I was so busy that I needed a cat’s help beyond taste-testing. I should be grateful it at least stayed out of trouble.

“For today, let’s start settling everyone’s stomachs with this gentle-on-the-body dish first.”

Holding back the eager members, I lift the lid off the pot I’d set nearby. Sweet aroma and warm steam fill the table gently. Rippling softly on the pot’s surface is a calm, milky-white sea. Slowly simmered bread porridge, that is!

“There’s a bit of sugar in it, but it’s kept quite light overall, so I think it’ll taste great whether you add jam or honey to make it sweeter, or something salty like bacon on top.”

…Anyway, explanations can come afterward! What matters first is making sure they eat it while it’s nice and hot.

“It’s been cooked until very soft, so I think it should be fine… But just so your stomach doesn’t get overwhelmed, please try eating only a little at first, Ms. Sharie.”

“Eh, yes. Thank you.”

I scoop just a small bit of the bread porridge that is waiting eagerly in the pot for its moment onto a small plate and hold it out to Ms. Sharie. For seasoning, I’ve drizzled just a touch of honey on top. This is both to check if the flavor suits her and to see how her stomach handles it.

Even though she has managed to sleep a little earlier, I can’t very well stuff a large meal into a body weakened by prolonged sleep deprivation and loss of appetite. First, she needs something easy to digest, little by little. Need to take it step by step.

Ms. Sharie seems to understand this herself too. She brings the honey bread porridge to her mouth cautiously, chewing slowly.

And then…

“…! Delicious! This is delicious, Ms. Rin!”

“That’s a relief! The baguette I used is from a shop known for being delicious, so maybe that’s part of it too.”

The moment her pale throat bobs with a swallow, a bright, bursting smile lights up the table. Watching Ms. Sharie like this, I can feel the tension drain out of Ms. Aria and the rest of the Gourmands too. For a bunch of food-lovers, someone unable to eat properly must’ve been a real source of worry.

“I feel like this is the first time in a while that I’ve had something warm in my stomach. It’s so soft and has such a gentle flavor… I could eat this so easily.”

“That’s really good to hear. If your stomach handles it well, would you like to try a little meat too? I’ll serve you a lighter portion.”

“…Yes, please.”

At my offer, there’s a brief moment where Ms. Sharie seems to consult with her own stomach… but a delighted, bright voice comes back. Good, good. I’m so glad her appetite’s returning!

“All right, then I’ll start cutting up the main dish while it’s still hot!”

“Wow, wow…! Looks delicious…!”

“I’m a little worried about what’s inside, but I just have this feeling that Rin will make it absolutely delicious!”

While I stand in front of the main dish, knife in hand, Ms. Aria and Mr. Ed whisper conspiratorially beside me. Um, I can hear you, you know? Mr. Ville and Mr. Xenon, apparently having caught their whispers too, along with Ms. Sharie, all tilt their heads at the mention of "what’s inside?" Ah, I see—unintentionally, this has turned into a surprise reveal for the errand team and the one who was napping!

Well, well. Now that’s some serious responsibility!

Hiding my tension, I press the tip of the knife against the tightly stuffed meat roll, and it releases a burst of clear juices with a sound almost like a hiss. At the same time, the herb aroma sealed inside bursts out, mingling into the air all at once.

This is definitely going to be good!

“Whoaaa! There’s so much juice! It’s like a waterfall!”

As I slice through the plump, tender boar meat, a golden apple peeks out from within. The rich meaty aroma is joined by a sweet-tart, refreshing scent, like flowers blossoming alongside it.

Plating the sliced meat together with the roasted vegetables, and drizzling over it a special sauce made by reducing the cooking juices collected in the container with island wine and various seasonings. Since the meat’s already so bold in flavor, I think even this simple, effortless sauce is more than enough to make it delicious.

Slicing it into reasonably thick pieces—slightly thinner for Ms. Sharie’s portion—I divide it out onto everyone’s plates.

“Sorry for the wait! All right, let’s eat!”

Once I’ve confirmed everyone’s got their food, I finally sit down myself too. Settling in with that pleasant exhaustion after finishing a job, this moment right here is just irresistible.

“Grateful to have food again!”

“Our thanks!”

“Eh, ah, thank you for our daily food!”

Riding off Mr. Ville’s pre-meal prayer, the Gourmands clap their hands together with a shortened version of the prayer. Since I always press my hands together before eating, I guess it’s spread to everyone else without me even noticing.

Meanwhile, Ms. Sharie, unfamiliar with both the shortened prayer and the hand-clasping custom before meals, offers her own prayer with a somewhat bewildered look. I’m sorry about my members getting carried away by their appetite.

“Please, while it’s hot. If the seasoning’s not enough, feel free to add salt or whatever seasoning you like.”

“Finally! We’ve been waiting!”

“Ever since watching you cook it… I’ve been dying to know how it tastes…!”

The stay-behind team, who’d been watching my work from the very start, reach for their cutlery the instant they receive their plates. I guess watching the whole process only made them more curious about the flavor.

The moment both of them put the thickly rolled meat together with the golden sautéed apple into their mouths, their eyes suddenly light up brightly. Shaking their heads repeatedly without a word, chewing away at the meat in their mouths with total focus, swallowing…

“M-mm, mmm! What is this? So delicious!”

“This is amazing…! The meat’s flavor is so incredibly rich, but thanks to the crisp apple, it’s not heavy at all! If anything, the apple’s sweet-tartness combined with the herb salt’s saltiness and the fat’s sweetness…! I bet I could eat this even if you cut it way bigger!”

Ms. Aria, cheek pressed with a hand, expression somewhat enraptured, and Mr. Ed, staring regretfully at his already-empty plate. Just from seeing their reactions, I can already feel confident this dish was a success.

Trying it myself too, I’d say this counts as a genuine triumph, honestly.

Probably thanks to the slow, thorough cooking in the oven. The Island Boar’s fat’s turned melting and tender, the red meat plump and springy, and biting into it releases rich juices and sweet fat flooding my mouth. At the same time, the mellow saltiness of the herb salt gives the tongue a sharp little zing. It could easily turn heavy, but the still-crisp sautéed apple releases sweet-tart, juicy flavor that cuts right through any heaviness. This is a dangerous dish—I could eat this forever!

“…Ville, or Xenon… One of you… doesn’t have to eat this… right?”

“Like hell that’s happening!”

“That’s outrageous, Aria! What kind of logic is that?!”

From an expression of pure bliss, suddenly shifting to the look of a hunter stalking prey, Ms. Aria eyes them, and Mr. Ville and Mr. Xenon protectively wrap their arms around their own plates to guard them.

“I-It really is delicious! Actually, I still felt like I had a lump in my chest, but after just one bite, I suddenly wanted to keep eating more and more!”

Even the hungry monsters, ravenous as they were, don’t go so far as to take food away from Ms. Sharie, whose appetite has been poor. Ms. Sharie, having bravely brought the meat to her mouth, presses a hand to her lips, eyes shining bright too.

I’m so glad her appetite is coming back! As long as a living creature can eat, things will be okay! So Ms. Sharie, who can eat like this now, will surely be fine too! She’ll get better!

“This bread porridge is delicious too. Perhaps it’s because the milk is so rich? It’s mildly sweet even without anything added… I could drink this endlessly.”

“Indeed. It works beautifully either sweetened or topped with meat or bacon.”

“…So, Rin, may I have another serving? I’d appreciate it if you could give me a little extra.”

“I’d like seconds too, Rin. It’s a shame that with porridge, there’s a physical limit to how high you can pile it up.”

“Ahahahaha! In that case, just have plenty of extra helpings.”

Mr. Xenon and Mr. Ville, having emptied their bowls while eating with full focus, hold their bowls out to me, eyes gleaming. They sure are satisfying to watch every single time! I’m glad they enjoyed it. Since the overall flavor is fairly light, it also pairs really well with strongly seasoned side dishes. I can see why the two of them were so absorbed in eating it.

Still, though, "physical limit to how high you can pile it up"… that’s such a Mr. Ville way of putting it, honestly. Next time I serve everyone rice, maybe I’ll try piling it Mount-Everest style.

Mulling that over, I ladle out as much bread porridge as physically possible into both Mr. Ville’s and Mr. Xenon’s bowls and hand them back. Just seeing both their faces light up even brighter upon receiving them makes it all worth cooking.

Once this whirlwind dinner settles down a bit, Ms. Sharie quietly speaks up:

“…Um, excuse me… this might not be too related to the current situation, but could I ask a somewhat presumptuous favor of you all?”

“If it’s something we can help with.”

At Ms. Sharie, fidgeting nervously with her fingers, Mr. Ville nods without a moment’s hesitation.

Having come this far, we all want to help as much as we can, no question. Surely everyone feels the same way. They all nod firmly in agreement with Mr. Ville.

Perhaps relieved at getting our agreement, Ms. Sharie’s expression softens, and she says:

“Um… could you help me search my father’s private room, which doubles as his workshop, for any clues about where he might have gone?”

“Your father’s private room? We don’t mind, but… is it really all right for outsiders to go in there?”

“Yes. It’s just, um… my father’s room has an overwhelming amount of stuff in it, and I don’t think I can handle it alone.”

At Mr. Ville’s question, Ms. Sharie smiles with a genuinely troubled expression and lets her shoulders drop. Judging from her mentioning it’s both his private room and workshop, plus her reaction, there’s probably an absurd amount of stuff crammed in there.

Given he’s a craftsman, that seems plausible enough.

“Honestly, I can’t shake the worry that my father might still be obsessing over finding magic crystal ore, but there might be some kind of clue in there.”

“Your dad, sure, gets absorbed easily, but… he wouldn’t leave you alone… at a time like this.”

“Yeah. I think so too. Thanks, Ari.”

She is talking about her father, but I don’t see the same distress she showed before the meal. As I thought, getting some rest and having something in her stomach must be affecting her in a positive way.

“Consider that job accepted by us, the Gourmands. Leave the heavy lifting and the organizing both to us. Let’s get right to work.”

“Thank you so much, I really appreciate it! In that case, let me show you to my father’s room!”

At Mr. Ville’s firm nod, Ms. Sharie’s smile deepens, and she rises from her seat, bowing her head. Leading us through the door behind the counter, Ms. Sharie’s steps come to a stop right in front of the left-side kitchen door.

“I’m sure you’ll all be fine, but there might be crafting knives or unpolished raw stones just lying around carelessly in the room. Please be careful.”

“Right, you said he’s a magic crystal ore craftsman. I guess that means there are plenty of things in there that can actually hurt us.”

“Yes. When I was little, I’d often get scolded for trying to sneak in after the sparkly magic crystal stones.”

Ms. Sharie turns around in front of the door and gives us one more reminder, making Mr. Ed’s eyes go wide. Stones, blades… the tools themselves are dangerous.

The battle between a young Ms. Sharie who wanted to play and a father who didn’t want to put his daughter in danger must have been quite something. Ah, but I wonder if her mother was still alive back then?

“…Um, there’s really a lot of stuff in there, so… please, help however you can.”

Looking somewhat apologetic, Ms. Sharie turns the knob, and the door swings open silently, revealing a scene beyond even what I’d imagined.

“Whoaaa…! This really feels like a craftsman’s room.”

Size-wise, it’s probably bigger than the kitchen I borrowed earlier. But every single wall is lined with shelves crammed full of books, bundles of papers, large stones, and tools of all sorts, and the floor’s scattered here and there with sizable chunks of magic crystal ore and tools. There’s such a sheer volume of stuff that finding an open spot feels difficult—despite being spacious, it somehow looks cramped!

The only tidy spot is a corner sectioned off with cloth, used for storing finished goods.

If Ms. Sharie has to search through all this for clues about where her father—apparently named Almas—might have gone, then I can certainly see why doing it alone would be difficult.

“…How should I put it… this reminds me of Tori’s room.”

“Ah, I recall Ms. Sheila saying, ‘It’s always such a struggle!’”

“All right, I’ll start taking things down from the shelves. Aria and Ed, you two separate the papers from the rest. Rin, could you gather the papers on the floor and bring them to Xenon?”

“Got it!”

I’d felt like this mess looked familiar somehow, and sure enough—Guildmaster Tori’s room. Ms. Sheila does seem to tidy it up periodically, but every time I picture that room, it’s always a disaster zone regardless.

Maybe recalling Ms. Sheila’s exasperated "Ugh, honestly!" voice, Mr. Ville gazes distantly for a moment before giving his instructions, and we all scatter to different corners of the room, getting straight to work tidying.

…However…

“…Can’t tell… which ones matter…”

“Tidy this side and an avalanche hits over there, fix that avalanche and this side collapses instead…”

“Ugh… my father was never good at tidying up. Even I never expected it to get this bad… I’m truly sorry.”

We have started working on it, but even battle-hardened adventurers seem to have a hard time organizing a room that is just one step away from being a disaster zone. Ms. Sharie makes herself look so small and apologetic that I almost feel sorry for her, but this really isn’t her fault, so there’s nothing she can do about it.

Meanwhile, Mr. Xenon quietly reads through the documents and notes piling up in front of him, sorting them one after another. He flips through the pages so quickly that my eyes can barely follow, separating the books and stacks of paper according to his own criteria. He really is the party’s biggest bookworm, considering he kept reading even during our sea voyage.

“Since Xenon’s the fastest and most accurate at sorting through information, I’ve left the organizing to him… but his concentration is incredible.”

Aaaaaah… I thought he was going to be the type who finds an old magazine in the middle of spring cleaning and gets distracted reading it, but he’s actually doing his job properly. I’m sorry for doubting you, Mr. Xenon, even if only for a moment!

“By the way, has anything suspicious or interesting turned up during the cleanup so far?”

Once the shelves have thinned out considerably and the floor’s starting to peek through bit by bit, I ask if any clues have turned up… but…

“No, nothing at all. According to Xenon, it’s mostly design sketches or purchase ledgers. Aside from that, notes and what looks like an ordinary diary. Things like how the breakfast Miss Sharie made was delicious, or how he managed to acquire a good stone… nothing but harmless, everyday stuff written in it.”

“The scattered notes are pretty mundane too—shopping reminders, scribbles, that kind of thing…”

 “…It’s just… everyday life.”

Hmmmm… This is an even more peaceful, everyday diary than I expected. It doesn’t exactly feel like we’re going to find a clue to his disappearance here. I didn’t expect information to fall into our laps so conveniently, but this is more deflating than I’d anticipated.

Mr. Ed and Ms. Aria are mainly tackling the books and paper bundles piled against the wall, while Mr. Ville wrestles with the remaining shelf items. Weaving between all this, Ms. Sharie, working from a base on what’s probably a nap sofa, keeps picking up and sorting through magic crystal ore chunks and crafting tools off the floor.

I’ve just finished clearing the corner of the floor I’d been working on until now myself. …So, with that done…

“I’ve carried a fair amount from here already… guess it’s time to tackle this desk. Be a good boy and stay quiet, okay, Miso?”

‘Huh? Haven’t this me been a good boy this whole time?’

“Can you promise not to mess with anything that falls?”

‘Of course! Me, super good boy!’

Not entirely trusting the self-proclaimed "good boy," I turn back toward the desk. The so-called "good boy," for now, is sitting neatly at my feet, grooming itself, apparently still bothered by the clinging saltiness.

The desk’s surface is even more chaotic than the room itself. Bundles of paper and books piled here and there form document towers, with what looks like half-processed magic crystal ore scattered about.

I kind of understand this situation, actually. This looks exactly like a desk built up from "I’ll need this again soon" excuses, piling more and more documents and materials on top over time. Which means whatever he reaches for most often is probably sitting near the top.

Someone who left the house with a desk practically screaming "I’ll finish this when I get back!" and hasn’t come home for a whole month—yup, that does feel off.

With that thought lingering, I open what looks like a notebook sitting right on top.

“Hm? Hmmm…?”

Since it’s meant for personal use, it’s probably written in a style only he’d understand. Handwriting with surprisingly strong quirks fills the blank pages with no apparent order. Hand-drawn illustrations, overlapping notes, anything goes. Just when I think it’s about the properties of magic crystal ore, suddenly there’s a note about last night’s dinner instead—no coherent structure to the content at all. It’s less a record, and more like a tool for organizing his thoughts.

“This… I honestly can’t tell if there’s any useful information in here.”

I flip through the notebooks up to about the middle of the book tower, but they contain much the same kind of things Mr. Xenon is sorting through. Things like how using reinforcement magic to strengthen a fragile magic crystal stone while processing it can actually make things worse, how the new drink at the Seagull’s Inn is delicious, how salt goes better than sauce with the fried food from the seashell shop on the beach, and how he is certain he would cry if Ms. Sharie ever said she was getting married… I end up learning an awful lot about things like that.

“It looks like the entire notebook tower is like this. Maybe I should take a look inside the desk.”

Continuing to dig through the notebooks doesn’t seem likely to turn up much of anything.

Careful not to wake Gomamiso, who’s leaned against my leg and dozed off without me noticing, I open the biggest drawer first. Wide but shallow.

“Whoa…! There’s so much stuff crammed in here…!”

There are childlike drawings, a decorated sheet of paper that says “Thank you, Papa,” and even a bracelet made by weaving seashells and beads together with colored thread. I’m guessing these are things Ms. Sharie made and gave to Mr. Almas as a kid.

Mr. Almas must’ve looked at these during work to keep his spirits up. In modern terms, I guess it’s kind of like having an altar dedicated to your favorite person?

Feeling like I’ve peeked into something deeply personal, I quietly close the drawer. It just feels a bit intrusive, and there’s no point lingering somewhere that clearly holds no clues anyway.

Making excuses to no one in particular, I close the big drawer and open the one beside it.

“…And this one has his work tools and magic crystal ore storage containers, huh?”

Inside are several pieces of half-processed magic crystal ore and crafting tools scattered about. There’s something like a magnifying loupe too, so I guess this drawer’s for tools and stones currently in use.

He probably picked out only his favorite, well-worn tools for this drawer. A whole lineup of well-used tools is arranged inside. There are things that look like pliers, blades shaped much like carving knives, and even something thick and large that I can’t quite guess the use of, resembling a decorative pin of some kind.

“An unfamiliar world’s fascinating, but I’ve got so little knowledge that I have no idea what any of this is for.”

I have no idea how these tools are used, or what kind of finished product a piece of magic crystal ore processed with these might become. It’s so far outside my area of expertise that it’s actually kind of fascinating.

The second drawer seems to contain the tools that didn’t make the first-string selection, along with what appear to be whetstones for maintenance. The bottom drawer, which is large and deep, contains bundles of paper for his notebooks, writing implements, and various other things tossed in haphazardly. I rummage through each of them, but there’s nothing particularly noteworthy.

“No luck with the drawers either… hm? Ah, wait, hold on a second?”

I’m starting to lose a little enthusiasm now that everything has turned out empty, but when I close all the drawers, something feels slightly off.

Especially this second one.

Was it really this deep? When I looked inside, I remember thinking it was shallower than I expected…

…C-Could this be…!

“The legendary false bottom!?”

The classic false-bottom drawer, showing up in dramas, games, manga alike! I never thought I’d actually get to see one in real life!

“Ah, eh, but how do I even open this…?”

“What’s wrong, Rin? Find something?”

“Ah, Mr. Ville. Actually…”

Maybe noticing me frozen in place, Mr. Ville comes over, crouching down. His strawberry-colored eyes, usually looking down from high above, are now level with mine. The embarrassment I’d normally feel about that gets swept away entirely by the excitement of encountering an actual false bottom.

Listening to my scattered, excited explanation about finally meeting this dream mechanism in person, Mr. Ville nods deeply, looking like it all clicks into place.

“I see, a false bottom. In that case, let’s first empty out what’s inside.”

“Ah, right. We can’t very well investigate it with everything still sitting inside.”

Even at a time like this, our leader’s composed words bring a sudden wave of clarity back to my overheated head.

Well, of course. If you want to examine a false bottom, you’ve got to take out the contents first. It seems like I got so caught up in excitement, even that basic step slipped my mind.

Cursing my own head’s tendency to overflow at the drop of a hat, I watch Mr. Ville deftly pull out the tools inside one after another… and before long, the drawer’s empty except for one chisel-like tool.

“You’re not taking that one out?”

“No, seems like it’s glued to the base panel.”

Peering at the chisel that shows no sign of being removed, Mr. Ville grins and gently lifts it up. At the same moment, the thin base panel slowly rises with it… and beneath it, what must be the drawer’s true bottom comes into view.

So it had been glued to the panel to serve as a handle for pulling off the fake bottom!

“Ohhh! As expected of you, Mr. Ville!”

“Well, there’s no need to praise me that much for something this simple… I think you could have noticed it too, Rin.”

“You think so? I’m pretty hopeless when it comes to real-world ideas like this, honestly.”

When I applaud and praise Mr. Ville, I get to witness the rare sight of him looking both exasperated and embarrassed! …I wasn’t flattering him or anything; I genuinely thought what he did was amazing, so I just said it out loud. Whether he meant it as a follow-up compliment or genuinely believed it… honestly, whether I’d have figured it out myself is pretty questionable.

“Hmm… it seems like coins were stacked as pedestals in the four corners, with the panel laid over top. Sure, this would make it easier to keep the height even, but wouldn’t even a slight jolt topple the coins and make the false bottom wobble?”

“It looks less like it’s meant to be perfectly hidden and more like it was designed for someone to actually find. What could’ve been kept in here, I wonder?”

“Paper? There’s something written on it…”

At the bottom of the false-bottomed drawer are about ten silver coins stacked in the four corners, and a few slips of paper. The corner coins must be serving as support posts for the dummy bottom panel.

The paper slips look hastily, urgently written, judging from how much more chaotic the already quirky handwriting looks here. Mr. Ville picks up the slips of paper inside.

“Ogre’s Handprint, Ink Pot, Carotte Bird, Tear Moon…?”

“…I have no idea what any of this means… some kind of code, maybe?”

“Even if it is a code, I can’t even begin to guess how to decipher it.”

Several unrelated words are written on the paper as we peer at it with our heads together. Since it was hidden away, I assume it must be important… but from the words written there, we have absolutely no idea what it is supposed to convey.

The notes I saw earlier also contained things that someone outside the field wouldn’t understand… Is this paper the same kind of thing? But if that’s all it is, would he really hide it under a false bottom?

Furrowing my brow along with Mr. Ville, we look at the second sheet of paper flipped open.

“…’I would love to go hiking with Sharie again sometime; it’s been a while.’…”

“For something kept in a false bottom, that’s… quite an ordinary, harmless message.”

“Yeah. It feels like something that could’ve just been left out in the open somewhere.”

I’m no expert, but was there really any reason to go out of his way to hide this under a false bottom? Just like Mr. Ville said, couldn’t he have just left it anywhere out in the open?

Or is it connected to the first sheet? If so, I honestly haven’t the faintest idea what it means …

“This is probably some kind of clue, but figuring it out with just the two of us seems difficult… let’s ask Miss Sharie for help.”

“Um… did you two call for me?”

“Whoa! M-Ms. Sharie!?”

Behind Mr. Ville and me, still puzzling over this, Ms. Sharie somehow appears without either of us noticing. She startles me, but when I think about it, of course she heard us. We were saying her name right there in the same room, after all.

Unlike me, momentarily flustered, unsure how to react properly, Mr. Ville recovers his composure instantly. He shows Ms. Sharie both the second sheet and the earlier sheet full of scattered words.

“Actually, we found a note like this inside the desk… does any of this ring a bell?”

“This is… definitely my father’s handwriting! Carotte Bird, Ogre’s Handprint… I feel like I’ve heard those before…”

Staring at the papers handed to her, Ms. Sharie enters thinking mode. Muttering something quietly to herself, she seems to be digging through her own memory.

After a moment, her face lights up.

“I remember now! These words written in the note are landmarks for the magic crystal ore caves scattered through the mountains.”

“Forgive me for asking, since the term is unfamiliar to me, but what exactly is a ‘magic crystal ore cave’? Is it related to the ore deposits?”

“Ah, ‘magic crystal ore cave’ isn’t the official term—my father just called places where magic crystal ore deposits are exposed near the surface all over the mountains that.”

Thanks to Ms. Sharie, the mystery of the note gets solved. Apparently, there are places where magic crystal ore deposits are exposed near the surface, and those mysterious words are landmarks for those locations. “Ogre’s Handprint” refers to a huge boulder with cracks shaped like a handprint. “Ink Pot” is a vertical hole near a river. “Carotte Bird” and “Tear Moon” refer to huge trees with knots shaped like those things. And all of them were named by Ms. Sharie herself as a young child!

Back when she was little, Mr. Almas took her hiking in the mountains, and she’d insisted, with a child’s imagination, "that one’s the Ogre’s Handprint!" and things like that—and he remembered all of it, using them to leave clues for her.

“To think magic crystal ore exists even at such shallow depths…”

“Yeah. I’d heard that they were mined by digging tunnels, so I always assumed they were deep underground…”

Just like Mr. Ville, I too had assumed it was mined by digging deep, dark shafts, but to think there are spots that are easy to reach! Maybe deposits that were once underground got pushed up to the surface through some kind of geological shift?

But if I remember correctly, the amount produced is carefully recorded and regulated, right? If deposits are sitting in places like that, wouldn’t people just be able to dig them up freely…?

“Since it’s exposed to open air, the quality as magic crystal ore is at the very bottom, at best middling-low, and for the most part these spots are hidden from view and largely unknown, but my father was the type to hike the mountains himself, so he’d found several of these spots here and there.”

“I see… so, Miss Sharie, do you know the locations these landmarks refer to?”

“Yes, I still remember. He took me there often. Stones sparkling like jewels flickering all over the ground and cliffsides; it was really beautiful.”

…That worry turns out to be completely unnecessary. So being exposed causes the magical energy or whatever to escape, making them useless as magic crystal ore. If they have no commercial value, illegally mining them wouldn’t be worth the effort anyway. But for Ms. Sharie, it seems less about commercial value and more that the beauty of the scenery she saw together with Mr. Almas is etched into her heart.

“To think he actually remembered such childish nonsense… the names I made up…”

Ms. Sharie shrugs with an almost exasperated air, but her face is overflowing with joy and nostalgia, so much so that it is obvious at a glance. She is probably remembering the conversations they had back then, along with the memories of climbing the mountains with Mr. Almas.

“Come to think of it, the second note mentioned wanting to go with you, Ms. Sharie—did Mr. Almas say anything like that when he left last?”

“No. I don’t think he did. Um, let me think…”

Holding the note carefully to her chest, Ms. Sharie speaks while tracing back through her memory. According to what she recalls, about a month ago, Mr. Almas suddenly prepared travel gear and told her he’d be away for a bit before leaving the house.

“He said he had important business to attend to and left. Said he absolutely had to go to the mainland.”

“To the mainland? Did you hear anything about what the business was?”

“Even when I asked, all he’d say was that ‘something came up with an old friend.’ So I really don’t know what he needed to do…”

“By the way, do you know whether your father traveled to the harbor by land or by sea?”

“Normally I’d assume by ship, but knowing my father, he probably wanted to search for stones along the way, so I think he likely crossed the mountains by land instead.”

…Hmmm. "The mainland" probably means Ellarge, where the direct ferry runs, or possibly somewhere else within Riessfeld, but that’s still awfully vague.

If the destination is Ellarge, a month does seem long, sure, but if we’re talking somewhere like the elven village or the capital, taking over a month wouldn’t be strange at all. But then, if he were heading somewhere that far, wouldn’t he have told Ms. Sharie exactly where he was going?

What cut through my thoughts, spinning in circles without landing on an answer, was Ms. Sharie’s voice, still studying the mysterious note:

“Come to think of it, actually, there’s one more spot I named. Um, it’s called ‘Cat’s Mouth’… It’s not written on this paper, though.”

Scanning the note top to bottom, Ms. Sharie tilts her head, puzzled.

How should this be interpreted? Left out deliberately because it’s important? Or, the opposite—left out because it wasn’t significant enough to note?

“Sallie. That ‘Cat’s Mouth’ spot… do you… remember it?”

“Of course. It’s the very first place he ever took me.”

“Let’s go there… This might hold a clue… to solving all this…!”

At Ms. Aria, gripping her hand with an earnest expression, Ms. Sharie blinks in surprise.

“…You mean, maybe this holds a hint about where my dad’s gone…?”

“There’s no proof. But… your dad loved you so much. For him to leave a note like this… without the first place he ever took you… I think that’s strange.”

Ms. Aria’s words, spoken with an unusually serious look, carry real weight. This is something only Ms. Aria, who knows Ms. Sharie so well, could pull off.

She’s right, honestly. I don’t know Mr. Almas personally, but from the notes left behind, it’s clear he was a father who deeply loved his daughter. That kind of father, remembering names his daughter made up as a small child and using them for a hidden code—for him to forget the very first spot Ms. Sharie ever named? That seems unlikely, doesn’t it?

“I want to go there!”

“Right now? No… Mountains are dangerous! It’s already dark outside!”

“Eh…? …Ah…”

Ms. Sharie, looking ready to bolt out the door at any moment, like "I’ve found a clue!" gets barely held back by Ms. Aria’s firm expression. Ms. Aria is absolutely right. Heading into the mountains after full dark like this would mean getting lost in no time!

Plus, even though talking with Ms. Aria seems to have given Ms. Sharie a bit of energy back, that’s borrowed strength, forced cheer! Even for a route walkable by a child’s legs, going through a mountain hike that’d take a real toll on her stamina in this state—the outcome would be painfully obvious!

Perhaps finally realizing that after being stopped, Ms. Sharie drops her shoulders dejectedly. But I understand why she is like this. This is finally a clue to where her father might be. Of course she’d want to rush there right away.

“Ms. Aria’s right. You’ve eaten properly today, so let’s rest well the rest of the night… and head out tomorrow, fully prepared!”

“…Yes, you’re right… I’m sorry. I was too eager to go.”

“I completely understand how you feel. Let’s rest well tonight, in preparation for tomorrow’s climb.”

Under the joint persuasion of Ms. Aria and me, Ms. Sharie seems to shift her mindset. The fire that had been burning in her eyes fades, and she seems to regain her composure.

I get how she feels, but safety first—life matters most, after all!

“In that case, let’s head out first thing tomorrow morning toward this ‘Cat’s Mouth’ place.”

Watching everyone nod along at Mr. Ville’s proposal, a thought about what to prepare for tomorrow’s packed lunch drifts across the corner of my mind.

◆◇◆

The morning after a good night’s rest greets us with a crystal-clear blue sky, making it an ideal day for a hike. We set out before dawn has fully broken and trudge our way up the mist-shrouded mountain path.

Bathed in sunlight filtering through the fresh green leaves, Ms. Sharie’s complexion is noticeably better than yesterday, just as she claimed after getting a good night’s sleep.

“’Cat’s Mouth’ is partway up the mountain… in an area that’s shaped somewhat like a hollow. The slope isn’t particularly steep, but the trail is rough, so let’s take it slowly.”

Wiping the sweat beading on her forehead with a towel, Ms. Sharie points toward the spot, still quite far off. Despite the mountain path being harder to walk than flat ground, her footing is steady, not the slightest hint of breathlessness. I guess even one good night’s sleep really shows its effect.

Meanwhile, here I am, already starting to get a little out of breath! My lack of stamina is truly pathetic!

The formation has Ms. Sharie, who knows the way, leading at the front, with Mr. Ville and Mr. Xenon right behind her. Gomamiso and I follow after that, with Mr. Ed and Ms. Aria bringing up the rear. Thanks to everyone matching their pace to the slowest person—me—I am gradually finding enough breathing room to look around at my surroundings.

“Whoaaa… so much growing and sprouting everywhere…!”

With some breathing room, I finally notice Survival’s blue alerts popping up all over my field of view. Judging by the descriptions, every single one sounds delicious. This mountain’s a real treasure trove of plant life.

…Incidentally, true to the saying that “the most dangerous time is when you start getting used to things,” even on a spot everyone else was walking through casually, I nearly fell. The dirt beneath my shoe suddenly gave a gritty little slip. Just confessing that here for the record. Whew… I’m glad nothing came of it!

“Ah, sorry. Just a moment, please, hold up here!”

Even so, being the creature I am, ignoring Survival’s alerts just isn’t an option…

“What is it, Rin?”

“I found something that looks pretty delicious.”

Right within easy reach, I have spotted a wild plant labeled "extremely delicious." I cannot help myself. As I call out to everyone and reach toward the slope, Mr. Ville, who has noticed immediately, stops right along with me.

[Potato Fern (edible: extremely delicious)

Despite the "potato" in its name, this is a type of fern that prefers growing in shade. It is named for its exposed underground stem resembling a potato. It has extremely vigorous vitality, and as long as even a small fragment of the underground stem remains, it can regenerate from it. The edible portion is the young shoot growing from the potato-like underground stem.

It’s rich in fiber, but the tissue itself stays soft and juicy. When fresh, it can be eaten raw after peeling. Pairs well with oil—delicious fried whole as a fritter, or sliced and sautéed. Also enjoyable grilled alongside meat or seafood, or blended into a potage after being sautéed in butter, among various other preparations.

The underground stem itself is extremely bitter, and while edible after removing the bitterness, the taste isn’t worth the effort involved.]

Ooooh! You can be used in way more recipes than I expected! And wait, despite being called a “potato”, the edible part is actually the young shoots?

Thinking that, I look at the Potato Fern in front of me. Sure enough, a brown part resembling an enormous potato is exposed above the ground. Several thick stems and broad leaves grow from it, while numerous young shoots curled up like bracken fiddleheads extend from the center.

According to Survival, this is the edible part.

“There we go…”

It doesn’t take much strength to snap it off by hand. It breaks with a surprisingly easy little pop. The stem is about as thick as a relay baton. From the fresh, moist cut surface comes a faintly sweet, green scent unique to plants rich in moisture. It isn’t unpleasant at all; in fact, it smells refreshingly crisp.

Since it’s quite vigorous, I decide to take about three of the several young shoots growing.

“Did you find something good, Rin?”

“Yes! Sorry for holding everyone up. I’ll go ahead and use it for tonight’s dinner right away!”

I hold up my freshly harvested prize to Mr. Ville, who looks at me kindly. Everyone realizes that we’ve gained another dish for dinner, and I can see them all throwing their most enthusiastic victory poses.

Well, they’re not wrong. Adding something that can replenish the calories burned during this mountain-climbing "leisure" (?) activity is definitely a good thing.

“That’s Potato Fern, isn’t it? Is it actually edible?”

“I heard it’s delicious, so I picked some… Do people around here not really eat it?”

“Hmm… since it looks like a potato but doesn’t taste great, not many people bother with it, honestly.”

“Ah, I see. People are focused on the underground stem, then.”

Noticing the Potato Fern I’ve picked, Ms. Sharie’s eyes widen in surprise. Apparently, around here, most people focus on the underground stem, which isn’t actually the edible part, so there’s no talk of eating the young shoots.

Still, I get the sentiment. Seeing a root that looks like an oversized potato, you’d think it’d be delicious, right? But then, actually trying it and finding it too bitter to enjoy… probably nobody thinks to try the young shoots instead after that.

“I’ll work hard to make it delicious, so please look forward to dinner tonight!”

“Hehe. Yes, I’ll. Now then, shall we continue so we can get back as early as possible?”

“Please, lead the way!”

Once I’ve tucked the shoots away in my body bag, Ms. Sharie resumes leading the hike. For a while, we continue along a trail where traces of footsteps are still visible, but before I realize it, we gradually begin veering away from the path. Eventually, we end up walking through what looks like an animal trail carved through the brush. Still better than walking along a sheer cliff, at least.

We’re really traveling along a road that barely deserves to be called a road, but it makes sense. A hidden spot like an exposed ore deposit would naturally be kept from anyone else’s knowledge. Kind of like how people never reveal where they find good mushrooms, maybe?

Still, with brush reaching above an adult’s knees—or, in some places, almost up to the belly—it must have been difficult for a child to walk through. For Ms. Sharie to have walked a path like this as a kid, isn’t that seriously impressive?

“…Walking like this actually brought back a memory—I think my father carried me piggyback the first time we came here.”

“Given the state of this brush, I can completely understand why he’d want to do that.”

I’d been thinking she must’ve had good stamina since childhood, and here comes an unexpected father-daughter memory. Ms. Sharie speaks in a nostalgic tone, and Mr. Ville, leading the way and clearing branches, nods deeply along with it. Ah, that explains how even a child could make it here. Mystery solved.

I wonder how long we walk while Mr. Ville pushes his way through the brush for us. The dim surroundings, enclosed by trees, gradually begin to brighten. It isn’t that there are fewer trees around us; rather, the ground ahead slopes gently downward into a hollow, so there are physically fewer trees surrounding the area, allowing sunlight to stream in.

Ms. Sharie points toward a spot tucked deep within the hollow, covered in soft-looking young grass.

“That’s it. See that wide-open hole at the back of the hollow? It looks just like the mouth of a cat yawning…”

“So you, as a kid, were the one who named it ‘Cat’s Mouth’, Ms. Sharie?”

The slope leading down to this "Cat’s Mouth" is fairly gentle; it doesn’t look hard to descend. Gentle enough you could practically slide down on a cardboard sheet if you had one. I guess there’s no risk of tumbling down to the bottom of the hollow like in that folk tale about the rolling rice ball. The one drawback is the low shrubs forming clusters here and there, and big rocks poking up through the green carpet of grass. Definitely too rough for any cardboard sliding, honestly.

Even as I regret the fact that I can’t indulge my inner child, the lack of trees overhead means there’s no thick layer of fallen leaves to make our footing slippery, and we safely make our way down. Thank goodness the ground is solid!

“Phew. It looked small from up above, but seeing it up close, it looks big enough that even an adult could squeeze in if they crouched down.”

“Yes. But since it’s a naturally formed cave, there’s no reinforcement or anything… It’s dangerous if it collapses, so I’d recommend against going inside.”

“Makes sense, the inside’s probably pretty weathered too.”

Ms. Sharie’s worried voice comes from behind me as I peer into Cat’s Mouth. Don’t worry, I’m not planning to go all the way inside.

When I crouch down and stick my head inside, a cool breeze flows out from deeper within the cave. At the same time, I can see something sparkling here and there across the exposed rock surfaces inside. That must be the magic crystal ore. So it’s embedded right in the rock like that.

I’m guessing they mine the surrounding rock, and then carefully extract only the ore through some process before it circulates as the finished "magic crystal ore" product.

Wanting to peek a bit further in, I shuffle inside a little, and deep within the dim cave, something white’s piled up.

“Hm? Hmm? There’s something here…”

What’s caught my eye is clearly something crafted by human hands. I stretch my arm out as far as I can, but it’s placed at some frustratingly precise distance—just barely out of reach. Bad posture for this. If I got down on all fours instead of crouching like a penguin, wouldn’t I be able to reach it?

While shuffling backward to get out of the hole, I bump into what must be Mr. Ville’s legs behind me. Before I can even react, a hand slips under my arm, and I get pulled straight out. Hoisted up, stretched out like a cat dangling by the scruff… Does that comparison make sense? And before any embarrassment even sinks in, I get set right back down… Where am I supposed to put all this awkwardness now!?

I glare up at the sun as if it somehow deserves the blame, and it stings my eyes!

“What’s wrong, Rin? Something happen?”

Unaware of the internal conflict I’m dealing with, Mr. Ville looks at me with worried eyes. Well, of course. To him, this was probably a hundred percent well-meaning gesture.

Ugh… I guess it’s just me overthinking this.

“There’s something man-made in there, but it’s just barely out of reach… I was thinking of trying to get in a bit further.”

“Just like Miss Sharie said earlier, better not to go inside. Or rather, you don’t need to push yourself, Rin—doesn’t our party have a member who excels at exactly this kind of work?”

“…Eh?”

“Mhm. Leave it to me!”

Just as I resolve to give the man-made object retrieval another try, I get stopped with a surprisingly serious expression. Wondering what he means, I follow Mr. Ville’s gaze as it flicks over, and there stands Ms. Aria, chest puffed out with a smug look.

Ah, right! With Ms. Aria’s thread skills, retrieving something like that would be a piece of cake!

Being able to grasp each party member’s strengths and give precise instructions like this, honestly, is impressive. I tend to want to handle everything myself, so this is a good reminder.

While I’m admiring this, Ms. Aria approaches Cat’s Mouth and gives a light flick of her hand, and the very next moment, what I’d spotted in the darkness is already resting in her palm. Despite having been left in the cave, the note paper’s surprisingly clean, not much deteriorated, and the handwriting looks familiar. Wait? Could this be the same bundle of notebooks I saw at Mr. Almas’ workshop?

“It’s the same handwriting as the notes we saw yesterday.”

“Mm… Sallie’s dad’s handwriting…”

“But this seems awfully thick for just a note…”

Just as Mr. Ville murmurs, the bundled note papers have quite a bit of thickness to them. Practically thick enough to call a proper notebook.

Naturally, the three of us who took part in the retrieval challenge are the first to look at it, but… I can’t believe it starts with, “If someone is reading this…” Isn’t that a suspiciously classic "final message" style opening? Maybe Mr. Almas had something important on his mind, but starting it like that makes the whole thing feel just a tiny bit less dramatic to me…

…Or so I thought while starting to read, but what followed in the note completely blew away that impression, revealing something utterly outrageous.

“…! …!”

“A record of wrongdoing!?”

The scream that nearly slipped out, I manage to hold in by clapping a hand over my mouth. Mr. Ville, also wearing an expression like he’s just swallowed something bitter, seems to be holding back further words.

The paper we’re both peering at together speaks of illegal mining and smuggling of magic crystal ore, carried out by people connected to Osmond. Apparently, Mr. Almas stumbled onto this while out hiking and had been quietly gathering evidence bit by bit ever since.

Not just the official mining sites, but even the low-quality, surface-exposed spots Mr. Almas himself had discovered were being illegally mined, and the ore seems to be funneled out in secret.

The more we read with our heads practically pressed together, the deeper the furrows between our brows become.

The opening note has say he’d hidden a copy here just in case something happened… but wait, hold on…?

“There’s no way… he’s not just missing, but… actually murdered, right…?”

“Hard to say… But I can’t say that’s impossible…”

The ominous possibility that comes to mind doesn’t disappear simply because I say it aloud. Mr. Ville’s voice, answering me as I turn pale, is similarly lacking in its usual energy.

I mean, "getting killed and made to look like an accident because you learned a secret"—isn’t that the classic setup in every suspense drama? Mr. Ville probably realizes the same thing too.

“…And, the reason Osmond’s been harassing Ms. Sharie, could it possibly be…”

“Of course, we can’t rule out that there may be a romantic element involved, but it could also be to silence her… Or rather, he may be trying to keep Miss Sharie physically under his control so she cannot report their wrongdoing.”

The more I think about it, the more this spirals in an unpleasant direction. Maybe he intends to keep Ms. Sharie confined with him while taking advantage of her absence to search her house from top to bottom, looking for the evidence Mr. Almas left behind and making sure it never sees the light of day.

He’s clearly trying to satisfy both his desire to cover up his crimes and his lust at the same time!

“The question is, what do we do with this information…”

“…Should we just tell her ‘there was a note your father left’ and avoid telling her the details?”

“Even if we hide it, wouldn’t she guess this note’s connected to her father’s disappearance regardless?”

“Yes, that’s true…”

Mr. Ville’s right, honestly. A note that could reveal wrongdoing, and a father who’s still not back a full month after leaving. The cause and effect here couldn’t be more obvious.

“And… Sharie has to know… She can’t be left in the dark…”

“…Ms. Aria.”

“She’ll be okay, knowing. She’s strong. And besides… it’s not… decided that he’s dead.”

What breaks through Mr. Ville and me, frozen without even the composure to groan, is Ms. Aria’s clear, resolute voice.

Ms. Aria stands tall and meets our eyes with an unusually resolute gaze. …And she’s right. The possibility that Ms. Sharie’s father has died is still only an assumption on our part.

If that’s how things are, then who should hand this bundle over…? Mr. Ville and I exchange a glance and give each other a light nod.

“…If that’s the case, Aria, you should be the one to give this to her. At times like this, there’s no one more reassuring than an old friend.”

“Mm! Leave it… to me…!”

The thick bundle of notes passes from Mr. Ville’s hand, his expression resolute, into Ms. Aria’s. Ms. Aria, her own eyes equally serious, hugs the bundle tightly to her chest… and runs over to Ms. Sharie.

“…It would be nice if things turned out with us exposing their crimes and finding Mr. Almas safe and sound…”

“That would be the best possible outcome, a happy ending all around, I’d say.”

In the direction we are watching, Ms. Sharie is trembling as she reads through the contents of the notes, while Ms. Aria stays close, gently wrapping an arm around her back.

“Still, though, he left behind quite the significant note. Wouldn’t this put us in a considerably strong position to file a formal complaint?”

“Yes. If we can obtain conclusive proof that the people her father recorded are connected to the ‘Society of Soil’s Blessing,’ we’ll have everything we need.”

“Eh? Sure, the circumstantial evidence makes them look completely guilty, but isn’t this ultimately just a record of what Mr. Almas ‘saw’?”

Wait, wait, wait? Haven’t Mr. Xenon and Mr. Ville already decided that we have enough evidence?

It’s probably a fact that “Society of Soil’s Blessing” is involved in wrongdoing, but we don’t have any physical evidence like photographs or recordings! I wonder if circumstantial evidence alone is enough to get them convicted?

I must’ve been picturing that classic cop-drama scene of a suspect devouring katsudon in an interrogation room—a scene that is completely fictional, but still—because my face must’ve looked pretty strange. Noticing that, Mr. Ville and Mr. Xenon peer at me with puzzled expressions.

“What is it, Rin? You’ve got such an uneasy look.”

“Are you worried that ‘Society of Soil’s Blessing’ might slip away from their crimes?”

“Eh, no, I mean… isn’t the evidence kind of insufficient?”

Being asked in turn by these handsome guys with such nice voices from both sides has my head near panic! But honestly, I can’t understand why Mr. Ville and Mr. Xenon are staying so calm about this.

When you’re trying to prove something like this, catching someone red-handed would be ideal, but failing that, wouldn’t you at least need images or video footage of the illegal mining actually happening?

“I’m not sure what exactly you’re worried about, but isn’t this more than enough as evidence—or rather, as a starting point? File a formal complaint using this, and push it through to a truth-verification.”

“For extra caution, there’s also the option of having a priest dispatched to conduct a formal oath before the gods.”

“Huh? Hmm? This isn’t… how I know criminal proof works at all!”

Wait, there’s some system I’m completely unfamiliar with in play here??? Did my common sense just turn out to be uncommon sense in this world!?

Still puzzled, the two handsome guys explain together, and apparently, in this world, magic plays a major role in the judicial system too.

…Thinking about it, in a world where lie-detecting truth-verification magic actually exists, of course there’d be a whole legal system built around relying on it.

Still, while I do think it’s a useful method, truth verification will judge something as “true” even when a person isn’t telling the truth but isn’t actually lying either. Just like when I got my guild card! Back then, they performed the truth verification based on the backstory Mr. Ville had created for me, and I was judged to be telling the “truth.”

Basically, truth-verification isn’t foolproof either… and to compensate for that, there’s this external attachment (?) called a formal oath before the gods. Something like, "I hereby swear before the gods that everything I’m about to state carries no falsehood whatsoever." After all, in this world, gods genuinely exist. And if someone dared to lie under those circumstances… well, you can probably guess the fate that awaits them.

Well, in that case, a confession alone really would be enough. Now I understand why they can manage perfectly well without objective evidence. And come to think of it, I also understand why what matters isn’t so much evidence of a crime as having a starting point that says, “A crime is being committed.” If the facts never come to light in the first place, there’s no truth verification or oath before the gods to begin with.

Thinking about it that way, Mr. Almas witnessing "Society of Soil’s Blessing’s" crimes and trying to report it was really the first step toward exposing this whole grand scheme of wrongdoing.

“…Um… could I say something?”

Ms. Sharie comes back, her eyes still tinged red, but with a firm resolve in her gaze.

“I’ve decided! I want your help making them pay for what they’ve done.”

“Of course, we’ll help! …But… do you… have a plan in mind?”

“I… I think I’m going to accept Osmond’s offer.”

Ms. Sharie comes back with Ms. Aria, her eyes filled with determination, and drops an absolutely outrageous bombshell on us.

When she says she’s going to accept Osmond’s offer… does she mean, “keep him company” (polite translation)? She hated the idea so much before… so whyyyyy? We all catch our breath at the sight of Ms. Sharie looking so resolute, and Mr. Ville steps forward first.

“…Honestly, I think we can corner the enemy with the information we already have, even without you putting yourself in danger like this, Miss Sharie… Are you still going?”

“I’m going! I want to hand everyone connected to Osmond—not just him, but everyone who might be tied in with him—over to the lord all at once, and see them all judged together!”

Even after Mr. Ville presses her on it, Ms. Sharie’s resolve looks unshakable.

…She does have a point, though. If this gives us a chance to round up everyone who’s been running rampant on this island, it would be nothing but good for the island as a whole—and by extension, good for the people of this town, and for Ms. Sharie herself too.

But even so, I can’t bring myself to knowingly send a young woman like her straight into the den of people like that just for the sake of it…! I sneak a look at Mr. Ville and Ms. Aria standing beside me, and the grimaces on their faces may as well be saying, “We really, really don’t want her doing this.” Especially Ms. Aria. Who’d willingly want to put their own childhood friend in danger like that!?

While the rest of us just groan and hesitate, unable to decide, Ms. Sharie, hands clasped in front of her chest, watches us.

“…This is just my guess, but… if they’re conducting mining that stays off the books, there’s probably a hidden ledger tracking it somewhere. If I go to Osmond’s place—’Society of Soil’s Blessing’—maybe I could find it while I’m there…!”

“A hidden ledger!”

Whoa! Sure enough, they probably do have something like that stashed away! Profits from illegal mining can’t be tracked openly, but they’d still want to keep tabs on their own earnings somehow. If we found it, combined with Mr. Almas’ evidence, it’d undoubtedly be the ultimate trump card.

One part of me says that using Ms. Sharie as bait is a little too much… while another insists that piling up evidence like this would be incredibly powerful…

“In that case, why don’t we all just go together?”

The end result of that internal tug-of-war slips right out of my mouth.

I can feel everyone’s gazes suddenly converging on me, prickling sharply!

“All of us… that would be…”

“I mean, we can’t just let Ms. Sharie go alone, right?!”

“But then again, we can hardly march over there with a group of men, either. They might become suspicious and turn us away.”

Maybe his thoughts still haven’t quite caught up, but even Mr. Ville, in an unusually flustered state, makes a fair point. The more people show up, the more Osmond’s wariness would skyrocket too.

But then, what could possibly disarm that wariness…

“In that case, how about the men here dress up as women, in a classic disguise sort of way…”

“Why does it have to come to that!?”

Mr. Ville’s loud voice tears right through the mountain’s pristine air.

Well, I mean… after all, hasn’t Japan got stories of heroes disguising themselves as women to defeat their enemies since ancient times? And not just in Japan—across the sea, in some distant northern land, isn’t there also a story about a thunder god disguising himself as a bride to deceive his enemies and reclaim his weapon?

I figured maybe everyone could get dolled up cute and show up like "we’re friends of Sharie♡"… or so I thought, but…

“…”

“…Xenon aside, Ville is a little… well… doesn’t he look nothing like a girl?”

“No, there’s no way I could pull it off either!”

Mr. Ville freezes in silence, Mr. Ed cackles with laughter, and Mr. Xenon bristles like an angry cat, glaring menacingly. Hmm. Utter chaos☆

Though I do have a feeling Mr. Xenon could actually pull off a convincing disguise. And here’s Mr. Ed laughing away—but let’s not forget, you’re part of the "disguise squad" too, aren’t you?

“Um… that might not actually be such a bad idea…”

Right in the middle of all this chaos, shattering the mountain’s silence, Ms. Sharie quietly tosses in her own suggestion.

“Osmond’s an enormous womanizer. If there’s a larger group of women, he might let us in without much suspicion.”

“Wh-What did you say…!?”

Whether she’s noticed Mr. Ville is speechless or not… Ms. Sharie keeps piling on information one after another. When I first heard about it, I was furious at the security force, thinking that even if they’d been bribed, there was no excuse for treating her that way. But perhaps they themselves had reached the point of, “Oh, Osmond again…”

Not that this excuses that attitude at all, mind you!

“Ugh… from the sound of it, he’s basically indiscriminate about it. Pretty extreme womanizer.”

“And also, there are rumors he’s a huge sucker for good food and wine, so if there’s some kind of eye-catching dish or delicacy, maybe we could sneak into his mansion that way…”

At this additional piece of information from Ms. Sharie, the mental "chance of success" meter in my head shoots up instantly. Drowning in lust and gluttony—that’s practically a textbook villain, honestly.

But wine and gourmet food are exactly my specialty! I’ll make food delicious enough to make him drop his guard completely!

“In that case, forget the disguise idea—what if we said, ‘As an apology for turning you down so many times, I’ve brought fine wine and delicacies from land and sea,’ and got everyone in that way?”

“Hmm. If we use that method, then if everything goes well, perhaps Rin and… Ville, under the pretext of being her bodyguard, could get inside.”

“That’s a good suggestion. While Rin keeps Osmond occupied with her cooking, Aria can sneak inside.”

The disguise idea is swiftly rejected, of course, but the latter plan seems to get accepted without issue.

And after debating back and forth over the groupings…

The team heading straight to Osmond’s mansion—the so-called “frontal assault team”—consists of Ms. Sharie, me, Gomamiso, Mr. Ville, and Mr. Xenon: four people and one cat.

The two chosen for the group that will sneak into Osmond’s mansion at the appropriate moment after we make our entrance—the “infiltration team”—are Ms. Aria and Mr. Ed. The reasoning: Ms. Aria can use her scouting skills to search for the hidden ledger and evidence of illegal mining and smuggling, while Mr. Ed can support her in that.

By contrast, the members of the frontal assault team were chosen for the simple reasons that they should be able to attract Osmond’s attention and, if anything goes wrong, neutralize him. If Osmond tries anything unsavory toward Ms. Sharie, the plan is to have Mr. Ville grapple him down, or have Mr. Xenon put him to sleep or paralyze him with magic.

Honestly, I’d thought Ms. Aria’s beauty might be better used to catch Osmond’s attention in the frontal assault team… but Mr. Ville shot that down.

“If we’re looking for something as securely hidden as a hidden ledger, I’d rather she focus entirely on the search without any unnecessary distractions.”

…he said.

Come to think of it, he’s right. If Ms. Aria is on the infiltration team, it’s just two steps—infiltrate, then search for the ledger. But if she joins the frontal team, it becomes three—enter openly, hide from view, then search for the ledger.

And more importantly, being on the frontal assault team means her face gets seen by Osmond, and if she suddenly disappears from the group, they’d probably search the whole place for her. That’d only make finding the ledger even harder.

Taking all that into account, I found myself genuinely appreciating just how well thought-out this grouping really is. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Mr. Ed letting out a relieved sigh… well, I understand the feeling, so let’s just let that slide this time, yup!

“Now that the discussion’s settled, how’s everyone’s appetite? I brought lunch boxes, so shall we eat?”

Glancing up, the sun’s nearly reaching its peak in the sky. Everyone climbing this mountain since early morning must be near their limits, hunger-wise. Once the physical labor of mountain climbing and the mental labor of strategizing have both wound down, having lunch now seems like a great idea.

“That would be excellent. Honestly, I was about at my limit.”

“Perfect timing, Rin!”

“In that case, let me go get everything ready; just give me a moment!”

To get away from the suddenly brightened gazes of the party members and Ms. Sharie, I hide behind a nearby boulder and deploy the Camping Car. Heheheh. I’d already prepared the lunch boxes inside the car.

Taking care not to let anyone see me going in and out, I step inside. A large cloth-wrapped bundle is waiting for me on the cabin table, safely right where I left it. It’s the lunch I excitedly prepared from last night through the early hours of this morning.

“Wow, I really did put together quite the spread, if I do say so myself.”

The menu features an assortment of rice balls, which seem like a classic for a day hike, along with some sandwiches made with bread that should feel familiar to Ms. Sharie. For the rice ball fillings, I went with grilled salted fish and rehydrated salted seaweed mixed into the rice. As for the sandwiches, I kept things simple with classic egg salad sandwiches.

Then there’s the usual assortment: fried chicken, Canary radish wrapped in Island Boar belly, mildly sweet rolled omelet, and kinpira made from the Canary radish peels. In other words, I put together what is, in a sense, the ultimate standard bento menu. The idea is to make carbohydrates the main source of quick energy, while adding fat and protein to help keep everyone full for longer.

And since I was going to bring out the Camping Car anyway, I figured I might as well make vegetable-loaded minestrone. This one I’ll reheat while getting the plates ready. This way we get vegetables in too, plus hydration—perfect setup!

“Anything I can help with, Rin?”

‘Want me to carry stuff? Should this me help out?’

“Mr. Ville! Miso too!”

As I’m figuring out how to carry everything, I hear familiar voices from the cabin entrance. It’s perfectly natural for Gomamiso, my “familiar” who is practically considered inseparable from its trainer, to follow me around. But the fact that I’ve got even the party leader running errands for me… Wow, I’ve really made it big.

Still, both of them showed up at just the right time. Now I’ve got two extra hands for carrying!

“Perfect timing! I wanted this cloth bundle with the lunch carried over, along with the plates and bowls!”

“I see. Good thing we came, then. I want to get my hands on your cooking as fast as possible.”

‘Me toooo! Help you!’

As I hand the cloth bundle with the main dishes to the happily tail-swishing Gomamiso, the cat obediently takes hold of it in its mouth. That leaves me free to carry the soup pot.

Similarly, to Mr. Ville, whose nose is already twitching at the scent of minestrone drifting through the cabin, I hand over the plates, bowls, assorted cutlery, and a thick cloth sheet I’d bought at some point to use as a picnic blanket, and he accepts it all with a broad grin. I guess I ended up bossing the party leader around a bit there… but I hope the delicious food makes up for it!

’Lunch boxes? Where’s mine!?’

To Gomamiso, still holding the cloth bundle in its mouth and glancing back at me like "you didn’t forget about me, did you?", I show it the plastic bag hanging from my waist. Of course, I’ve prepared meat and fish for the cat too!

Gomamiso, even more motivated after confirming that its own share of food is secured, walks ahead of Mr. Ville and me, tail held proudly upright, as I carry the pot and Mr. Ville carries the dishes and cutlery.

“You were fired up since last night. So this was what it was for?”

“Mountain climbing burns a lot of calories, after all. I made sure the menu would fill everyone up properly!”

Mr. Ville, dishes in hand, voice practically bouncing with excitement—I can tell from his face alone that it’s practically screaming "can’t wait for this" even without needing to see it clearly. He has been at the front since early morning, clearing paths and chasing off small animals, after all. No doubt he’s been eagerly awaiting a proper meal.

“Sorry for the wait! Time for lunch!”

“Welcome back, Rin! We’ve been waiting!”

“Goma … You helped out! What a good boy! You’re a genius!”

“Oh, we should spread this thick cloth out, right?”

Ms. Aria, receiving the main dishes Gomamiso proudly carried over, immediately starts rubbing its head affectionately, while Mr. Xenon takes the thick cloth from Mr. Ville. Mr. Xenon and Mr. Ed lay the cloth out together, and Mr. Ville set the dishes down one after another on top of it.

I’d chosen this pale orange, botanical-patterned cloth thinking it’d match everyone’s coloring nicely, and right in the center of it, I set down the minestrone pot with a firm thud. That’s the cue for everyone to gather onto the sheet. We usually live a chair-sitting lifestyle, but it’s moments like this where I’m grateful this group has no qualms about sitting directly on the ground.

Everyone claims their spots in an instant, and in the gap between Ms. Aria and me, Ms. Sharie hesitantly settles down too.

“There are two kinds of rice balls: one with the ingredients mixed into the rice, and one with grilled salted fish stuffed inside. The sandwiches are egg sandwiches. If that isn’t enough, I’ll bring out something else, so please eat as much as you like.”

As I explain the menu while ladling minestrone into the soup bowls, Ms. Sharie’s eyes go wide. Well, if she doesn’t know about the Camping Car, I suppose having this much food suddenly appear would be pretty shocking.

“Eh… you can eat food this lavish, even out in the wilderness?”

“Heheheh. Believe it or not, I’m the luggage carrier for the Gourmands! There’s a skill for managing this kind of thing nicely!”

“You have a skill that’s perfect for a porter like that! Then I suppose you’ve truly found your calling, Ms. Rin.”

I give her a brief explanation of my skill while leaving out the details, and Ms. Sharie, seated on the cloth, looks up at me with sparkling eyes.

It seems even ordinary people understand that skills aren’t something you pry into, so thankfully all I get is a cheerful, “That’s a great skill!”

“Well then, Itadakimasu!”

“I’m grateful to have food again today.”

“Delicious!!!”

Once Mr. Ville, noticing most of the menu’s finger food, casts a cleansing spell on everyone’s hands, each person offers their own pre-meal prayer and reaches for rice balls and sandwiches. Not wanting to fall behind, I press my hands together with just as much enthusiasm.

“So good! The rice… is fluffy! The fish… is juicy!”

“The faintly sweet rice soaked in the fish’s fat and saltiness… I can’t stop reaching for more!”

Ms. Aria and Mr. Ed, both choosing the salted fish rice balls first, cheer the moment they take a bite. I get it. I totally get it! The combination of salty fish and rice is seriously irresistible! The rich, punchy sweetness of the fat and the umami that’s seeped out from the salt-curing process, wrapped up gently by the mild sweetness of the rice… You just can’t stop reaching for more! I completely understand.

“This one with the seaweed mixed in is delicious as well. The saltiness is evenly distributed, and there’s a faint scent of the sea. The fragrant sesame makes a nice accent.”

“To think grass can be this delicious…”

“It’s not grass, it’s seaweed!”

The mixed-in rice balls, with their overall green hue and golden sesame seeds sparkling as accents, are pleasing to look at as well. I rehydrated salted seaweed to retain a slight saltiness, then chopped it up and mixed it into the rice.

Mr. Xenon’s absolutely praising this otherworldly seaweed rice… but should I take Mr. Ville’s mutter as praise too…? Does getting a “delicious” out of someone who hates vegetables count as a win?

“Ah, um, Ms. Rin. This sandwich, it’s an egg sandwich, right? The flavor’s unfamiliar, but it’s so incredibly delicious!”

“The unfamiliar flavor’s probably from a seasoning commonly used back in my hometown. Trade secret, but delicious, right?”

Taking one bite of the egg sandwich, Ms. Sharie’s practically writhing in delight, hand pressed to her mouth.

You see, egg sandwiches are a powerhouse of a sandwich: the main ingredient is egg, and then you add mayonnaise, which is made with egg, too. It’s smooth, rich… there’s no way it could possibly not be delicious!

“Mm! The minestrone turned out great too! The bacon’s got good texture, so tasty!”

Watching everyone happily munching on the mains with a warm heart, I dip a spoon into the steaming minestrone myself. The soft tang of tomato and gentle saltiness spread through my mouth, and I can feel the salt and water lost from the mountain hike getting soaked right back in.

The illustration’s description: Sharie with a sandwich in her hands is sitting next to smiling Rin, who is holding a bowl of minestrone.

Because I cut the thick-sliced bacon into fairly chunky pieces, it retains a firm, chewy texture even after being thoroughly simmered, pushing back against my teeth with every bite. Each bite releases a burst of fat and meat juices that add richness and depth to the vegetables’ sweetness and freshness.

‘My lunch is yummy!’

“You helped with the preparations too, after all, Miso.”

Munching happily away at its portion of fish and meat scraps, Gomamiso looks blissfully content.

The fried chicken, rolled omelet, and meat-wrapped rolls served alongside the mains, and even the surprisingly well-received kinpira made from the vegetable peels, all disappear into everyone’s stomachs amid enthusiastic praise. The meat rolls are especially popular, disappearing first with comments like, “There are vegetables inside, but that’s exactly why it stays light enough to eat endlessly.”

“Getting home safely is part of the hike too! Eat up your lunch, and build up strength for the walk back!”

The answer to me, smiling with a rice ball in hand, comes in the form of the lunch boxes that are emptied in the blink of an eye.

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