Alchemist Karen No Longer Compromises, Chapter 333

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Chapter Three Hundred and Thirty-Three: Laying Groundwork for the Future

“Hold on. Some of these are made from materials I don’t even recognize…!?”

Karen stepped into the alchemy workshop building and stood there, stunned. Even Karen, a regular window-shopper at the finest alchemy supply stores in the capital, couldn’t identify many of the materials used here. In other words, this workshop had been built from materials that simply didn’t appear in ordinary shops.

At first glance, the table appeared to be made from high-quality Treant Seven wood, harvested from the Forest of Abundance on the seventh floor of the Royal Capital Dungeon, where the trees absorbed immense nourishment.

The table, at first glance, resembled high-quality trent wood—the kind nourished by the abundant flora of the fertile forest on the seventh floor of the capital dungeon, a Trent Seven wood. But Karen knew of something far more valuable that looked remarkably similar.

“Could this possibly be… Elder Trent wood…!?”

“From the Elder Trent that crossed its boundary and climbed to the upper floors of the capital dungeon—the one I defeated when you came with us.”

“And this is a single slab cut from the heartwood, isn’t it!? I can actually feel the pathways of magical power running through it…!”

The table was a single plank of deep, reddish wood, polished to a smooth finish. Beyond its appearance, it also possessed magical functions that an ordinary non-magical material table simply couldn’t replicate. Julius watched Karen run her hands all over it with a quiet smile.

“All of the materials that are difficult even for me to obtain were used to make movable equipment. When you eventually relocate to the Himmel territory, please take it all with you.”

Just as Thor had been stockpiling rare materials from his battles to craft gear and potions for his party, Julius had apparently been storing things away for the right moment. And he had used them for Karen’s alchemy workshop.

“I’ve been assured that it’s more than worthy of a B-rank alchemist, but I’m not entirely confident that it’s worthy of someone of your caliber, Karen.”

Julius said that with a troubled smile, the corners of his eyebrows drooping slightly.

“—You will become an S-rank alchemist one day. I would like you to use this for a long time, but please—if it ever falls short of what your alchemy demands, don’t force yourself to make do with it.”

He said it the way one might speak of something just around the corner, as though it were a foregone conclusion. Karen threw her arms around him and held tight.

The fortieth floor of the capital dungeon—Thor’s destination. The real challenge on the way there lay in the thirty-first through thirty-ninth floors, where, by all accounts, a harsh and relentless winter cold prevailed like a trial unto itself.

Thor had explained that he had pushed through the twenty-first to thirtieth floors of the Ehlertt capital dungeon in order to gather materials for cold-resistant gear suited to those conditions. The twenty-first to thirtieth floors of the Ehlertt capital dungeon, apparently, were a world of ice.

One approach was to gather materials floor by floor, leave the dungeon, craft equipment, and then dive back in. However, the materials obtained from defeating the boss of the thirtieth floor of the Ehlertt capital dungeon were rarer and better suited for equipment than the materials found on the thirty-first floor of the royal capital dungeon.

Taking down a boss every ten floors always yielded better materials than grinding through the odd floors in between.

So most capable adventurers refreshed their equipment every ten floors. To push into the next ten floors, they would gather materials in a shallower stretch of a different dungeon with a similar environment and equip themselves for the next descent.

Of course, very few adventurers could even surpass the tenth floor, so the more common approach was to gather materials gradually by defeating monsters one floor at a time.

As a side note, the eleventh through twentieth floors of the Ehlertt capital dungeon—the stretch Julius had tackled—had apparently been a scorching desert. Karen was fairly sure she would have died from the temperature swings alone. Truly, goldfish-brained Karen.

“Is there any kind of potion you’d personally want, Julius?”

Karen turned to look at a corner of the workshop. A comfortable-looking sofa had been placed there. Julius had quietly had a little rest area for Karen—doubling as a waiting room for himself—built right into the corner of the workshop.

Positioned at a distance not to disturb Karen’s work, while still able to keep an eye on her.

“How about making the same potion you made when you went into the Forest Edge Dungeon with Licht?”

“Hmm. I was still cold even with that one… If it was only barely enough for ten floors, it’s not going to hold up from the thirty-first to the fortieth, is it?”

“Indeed. The deeper a dungeon goes, the harsher and less survivable its conditions become for people.”

Julius nodded at Karen’s words. In a dungeon with a cold climate, the twentieth floor was colder than the tenth, and the thirtieth colder still. That was simply how it worked. Coming from someone who had descended to the twentieth floor, it was lived experience, not speculation.

“Even so, it would undoubtedly reduce the strain along the way. The final decision on what to carry would be Thor’s, but I’d recommend it as an option.”

“If you say so, I’ll make it.”

“Also, rather than preparing only for floors thirty-one through forty, it might be wise to make potions for the journey up to the thirtieth floor as well. There is only so much one can do about unknown dangers, but known dangers can be addressed directly.”

“That’s true! For a deep-dungeon route, the path down to the thirtieth floor is relatively well documented.”

The internal climate varied from dungeon to dungeon, but certain floors shared similar environments across different dungeons. The Ehlertt capital dungeon had its desert zone from the eleventh to the twentieth floor, but in the capital dungeon, the desert zone apparently ran from the twenty-first to the thirtieth.

On the twenty-sixth floor within that desert zone, there was an oasis where monster spawns could reportedly be controlled—and a merchant had set up lodgings there. As a result, there was a wealth of information available about the path up to the thirtieth floor of the capital dungeon.

The only inn where adventurers pushing into the deeper floors could rest their bodies. Maintaining this inn was one of the most important functions of the capital’s commercial guild and the merchants affiliated with it.

—Had the Gubert Trading Company continued to grow as it had, it would likely have become one of the pillars supporting that dungeon inn in time. The burden of dismantling it had come full circle, and some of that weight now fell on Thor. But because Karen had brought the Gubert Trading Company down and reclaimed the rights to her soap, she could make the soap Thor would need.

“…I should make soap too. Everyday goods become so much more useful if they’re all some form of potion, don’t they? Compared to ordinary soap.”

“Without a doubt.”

“If one of the children eventually learns how to make my potions using non-magical materials, I’d like to sell potion soap.”

“I’m sure that day will come.”

If only Karen had recognized the value of what she made sooner. If she had realized sooner that her soap could be a potion, gotten others to make it too, built up the capacity to produce it in volume—perhaps her potions would have already been stocked in that twenty-sixth-floor inn.

“…It’s not too late. I have to do everything within my power.”

“Thor is lucky to have a sister like you.”

Karen nearly lost her footing in what-ifs, but she raised her head and clenched her fist. Julius watched her with a look of admiration, as though she were dazzling.

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Alchemist Karen No Longer Compromises, Chapter 332

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Chapter Three Hundred and Thirty-Two: All Prepared

“This is about the only place I made corrections.”

Karen handed the notebook back to Harald when he came to the kitchen. It was the notebook she had borrowed from Harald. Inside were notes Harald had taken on everything Karen had explained.

Harald received it with a reverent gesture and bowed apologetically.

“I’m sorry. Were there errors?”

“About rain. Saying rain is the goddess’s blessing isn’t exactly wrong, but…”

Karen said as much, though she had made corrections in the notebook all the same.

“Basically, I’d like you to teach the children scientific knowledge rather than concepts. Water on the ground evaporates and becomes water vapor, rises high into the sky, cools, and the tiny droplets that collect and float in the air become clouds—and when the droplets inside those clouds grow large and heavy enough to fall, that’s rain. Please teach them that.”

“Understood, Lady Karen.”

Karen was currently working with Harald on creating textbooks for the children.

Her regular work consisted of making potions and conducting research. On top of that, there were the children to think about. She had been able to leave their day-to-day care in Harald and Lily’s hands, so Karen’s direct responsibility was roughly limited to creating teaching materials for them—but that alone turned out to be a fairly time-consuming undertaking.

In order for the children to truly understand the knowledge Karen had to offer, she had to write out everything she knew. That was more than she could manage on her own. So she had Harald—who possessed an exceptionally rare memory—write out her explanations, which she then reviewed and corrected.

Harald transcribed her words with an accuracy that surprised even Karen. That said, there were places where her explanations had become muddled from over-simplification, and occasionally Harald’s own knowledge had crept in.

“Lady Karen, is water vapor the smallest form of water you mentioned before?”

“Oh—did I say that? The smallest state of water is actually much smaller than water vapor. I’m sorry, I may have said something incorrect.”

Seeing Karen put her head in her hands, Harald hurriedly spoke up:

“No—I only assumed as much myself. Please don’t trouble yourself over it.”

“Ah, you assumed? That’s a relief.”

Karen let out a breath and wrote "H₂O" in the corner of the notebook. The chemical formula for water. Surprisingly, she still remembered it. Even so, she had forgotten most other chemical formulas. To begin with, Karen’s knowledge only extended to about the middle and high school level.

“This might be too advanced for the children yet, so I’ll just explain it to you for now—water in its smallest form is structured with one substance bonded to two identical separate substances.”

“So that smallest state is what water truly is at its core, and if you separate that one substance from the two others, it is no longer water?”

“As expected of you, Harald. You catch on quickly.”

If how rain forms was elementary school knowledge, then the chemical formula for water was middle school level. About right for Harald.

“I would appreciate it if Ms. Lily could also assist in teaching the children, and so I was wondering if you might be able to write out what you just explained in a way she could easily understand? Though you praised me, I can’t honestly say I’ve fully grasped it myself yet.”

“Is that so? Well, if you say so, I’ll add some illustrations too.”

She drew pictures of updrafts, cold air, warm air, mountains, and clouds. Things often became surprisingly easy to understand when accompanied by diagrams.

“I’m sorry to trouble you when you’re so busy developing potions for Mister Thor and his party.”

“I was actually just looking for a change of pace, so don’t worry about it.”

Karen said it half sincerely, half with a wry smile, and laughed.

Karen owned an alchemy workshop in the royal capital, but there was no alchemy workshop at the earl’s residence in Ehlertt territory. So the Ehlertt household had cleared out one of the kitchens and lent it to her as a temporary workshop.

That alone was more than enough to be grateful for, but it was still less efficient than a proper alchemy workshop. She had brought most of what she needed from the capital, but the space itself simply wasn’t suited to alchemy.

Even using her orichalcum alchemical cauldron and World Tree ladle, she could feel a faint seepage of magical power from the cauldron when she made potions. Faint as it was, she also sensed an increased magical resistance arising from working in an unsuitable environment.

The alchemy workshop in the capital that Helfried and Alise had given her had been a building optimized, in its very structure, for alchemists. It had truly been more than Karen—an E-rank alchemist at the time—had deserved.

But now, she wanted that kind of environment as a matter of course. If she were only selling products through her workshop in the royal capital, a slight drop in quality would simply mean charging a lower price. But Karen wanted to prepare the finest possible potions for Thor and his party.

“I may have no choice but to go back to the capital workshop…”

Karen murmured to herself, and at that moment, there was a knock at the door.

“May I come in?”

“Julius? Please do.”

When Karen let him in, Julius entered the kitchen with a modest smile.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your work, Karen. Could I borrow you for a little while?”

She sometimes prioritized her work over even Julius, and he knew it well. At his considerate request, Karen stood up from her chair with a smile.

“Of course! …Did something happen?”

Julius quickly shook his head before Karen could start to worry.

“Nothing is wrong, so please don’t be concerned. There’s actually something I’d like you to come and see.”

“Something you’d like me to see?”

Julius said it as though it were nothing remarkable. Karen tilted her head and began putting away her alchemy tools.

“It won’t take long—just come along without thinking too much of it.”

“Okaaay.”

At the light tone of it, Karen thought perhaps there was an unusually shaped cloud in the sky, and nodded without a second thought before walking out of the kitchen alongside Julius.

“As an engagement gift, I built an alchemy workshop for you, Karen…”

Julius said it with a shy smile, and behind him stood an impossibly grand building.

“Isn’t that as big as the annex!?”

“I kept wanting to add more features so you’d have everything you needed, and it ended up like this.”

Karen had known that something was being built behind the west wing of the manor. But there had been so many ongoing works—seasonal changes to the garden, replacement of the gazebo, and the like—that she hadn’t paid it any particular attention. She had never imagined it could possibly be an alchemy workshop built just for her.

“I got carried away with the details, and the work took longer than expected. I’m sorry I couldn’t give it to you sooner.”

Julius looked down at Karen, who had followed along in perfect innocence and was now standing there dumbstruck, and his smile deepened.

“Thank you for agreeing to be engaged to me, Karen.”

Karen, still unable to find words, looked up at Julius, then at the building, then back up at Julius.

“Do you think we could take the whole building with us to the Himmel territory?!”

Julius burst out laughing at her words.

“Ahaha! That would be rather difficult, I’m afraid.”

Karen threw her arms around him as he laughed.

“Thank you… Julius.”

Julius understood her work, supported it, and backed her up more than she could have asked for.

“I’ll support what you want to do too, Julius. I’ll be there for you.”

“What I want is to be with you, Karen.”

Julius stopped laughing and held her back, gently but with real strength. When Karen looked up at him from within those warm arms, he was looking down at her with an expression so earnest it was almost frightening.

Karen swallowed the words that had been on the tip of her tongue, that’s not quite what I meant. But that was exactly what mattered. At least, it was for Julius.

“Then I’ll work hard so we can stay together.”

She stopped hugging him with childlike innocence and instead embraced him as though she could shield him from any danger.

At that, the arms holding her seemed to tighten.

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

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Volume 7 is out! Just a reminder that I post partial translations on Patreon, and as soon as the entire chapter is translated, I post it on the website.

Volume Seven, Prologue

‘There’s a festival in the elven village, so come home for a visit.’

Looking back, that letter from Mr. Xenon’s mom was what started this whole trip. When Mr. Xenon got the letter, he put up a huge fuss about it—"The food back home is terrible, there’s no way I’m going back!"—but somehow we talked him into it, and here we are… at the elven village.

And now that we’ve actually come to the village, we’ve been baptized by uniquely elven cuisine, gotten caught up in a disaster way bigger than any festival, and generally had all sorts of experiences you don’t get every day!

I mean, come on. Who would’ve guessed that the World Tree’s guardian bird would get drunk on offered sake and lose the precious orb it needs to control its own magical power? Because the guardian bird couldn’t control its mana anymore, the overflowing power turned into monsters called Cotton Birds—like little snow bugs—that piled up all over the elven village, and then a monster called a Dinaronewt that swallowed the orb started evolving like some kind of dragon. It was a whole ordeal…!

But then again, that’s also how I got close with the Azure Droplets. So it’s not all bad… I guess?

“Rolf’s cooked meat is delicious, but Ms. Rin’s cooked meat is delicious too.”

The gentle voice pulls my wandering thoughts back to reality. The speaker is the handsome blond-haired, blue-eyed elf sitting across from me… Mr. Arthur, the leader of the Azure Droplets.

He’s a sunny, top-tier archer type… but watching him grin from ear to ear while stuffing his face with Rolf’s otherworldly-spiced grilled meat and my "braised pork", I can’t help but think, isn’t this guy cut from the same cloth as Mr. Xenon? Are elves just secretly big eaters? Or is it just these two?

“Both dishes bring out the meat’s flavor to the fullest! At this point, I just can’t help drinking more and more!”

“Both super delicious. Could eat forever.”

“Come on, there’s no way you can eat meat forever…”

Sitting beside Mr. Arthur, who is happily stuffing himself with meat, is Ms. Sasa, the priest-warrior who looks like a little girl, raising a giant mug in one hand and a piece of grilled meat in the other. Next to her, the gorgeous black-haired mage Ms. Ginsei is plowing through grilled meat with gusto, while the one watching the scene with an exasperated expression and making comments is Mr. Rolf the grappler. With an elf leader accompanied by a dwarf and a wolf beastman, it’s a party composition that perfectly suits the multi-racial nation of Riessfeld. Well, not that the Gourmands—led by a dragul, with a spider-person, two humans, and a winged lynx—are really in a position to comment on that.

Incidentally, Mr. Rolf also handles the cooking for the Azure Droplets, so the two of us hit it off immediately as fellow food lovers. We decided to bring dishes we each made from the dropped Dinaronewt meat and have a joint celebration together—that’s how today’s gathering comes about.

“Hey, Arthur. Quit hogging all the grilled meat. Leave some for the rest of us, would you?”

“You’re one to talk, Ville—aren’t you going through that braised meat awfully fast? It’s disappeared in no time, hasn’t it?”

Mr. Ville, brow furrowed, keeps piling braised pork onto his plate as he grumbles, and Mr. Arthur just grins back at him while stuffing grilled meat into a pocket bread. Since the Azure Droplets formed around the same time as Mr. Ville’s party, there’s clearly some kind of camaraderie between them—their banter’s lively enough.

…Though whether you can really call this exchange over food "lively" is a bit of a mystery.

“Ahhh… Even so, this really feels peaceful, doesn’t it!?”

I tear my eyes away from the two leaders sparking over meat and take in the villagers enjoying the festival with bright smiles. Seeing this sight makes all the effort worth it!

Feeling that happiness down to my bones, I’m fully savoring this joint celebration between our two teams, enjoying every bit of it… or at least, I’m supposed to be.

“What a deplorable sight… Those pointy-eared creatures and animals act as though the world belongs to them!”

“Right? The stench of beasts is going to get all over my robe!”

“Both of you! There’s no need to say such things so loudly. We came here today partly so Lady Himari could get some fresh air—can’t we talk about something more pleasant? Hm?”

A voice shatters that pleasant atmosphere, striking straight into my eardrums. There’s no way I could forget it. It’s the voices of the very people whose actions dragged me into this world! No way… seriously? In the middle of this happy, fun celebration, of all things, I run into the group behind the saint summoning!?

The moment I realize it, cold sweat pours from every inch of my body. It feels as though someone has dumped a bucket of icy water over me.

Fear over what happens if they spot me and fury that they’ve shown their faces right in front of me—all sorts of feelings tangle together in my chest, sending shivers down my spine. If it weren’t for the side effect of Survival—mental control—I don’t know what would’ve happened. Honestly, I might’ve ended up shouting something without thinking it through, that’s how cornered I felt. Ahh… I’ll say it again and again, thank goodness for Survival!

“Ugh, shut up already…! If it bothers you that much, you could have simply stayed behind! To begin with, only Sage and I were supposed to come—you two are the ones who barged in, remember!?”

What breaks through my frozen thoughts is a girl’s voice, remarkably feisty. The only women here are whoever’s out in the plaza, the members of the Gourmands and Azure Droplets… or the saint girl, who’s hanging her head at the back of their group.

Curiosity over whose voice that is battles with the fear of being found out… but this time, the need to know what’s going on wins. Just a quick glance won’t give me away, right? Telling myself that, I lift my head just a little and look over at the saint’s entourage.

“I told you over and over—if you wanted to come, behave yourselves, don’t cause trouble for people, and don’t make me feel awful! And you break that the second we arrive, you hopeless morons!”

“Wha—! I came along because I was worried about you going with just one attendant, and this is the thanks I get!?”

“I never asked you to! And besides, that’s called emotional manipulation, you know!?”

A slender, black-haired girl with her shoulders squared in fury has her fist clenched, looking ready to swing at any second, at a blond boy rattling off spiteful remarks. Even from just a glance, I can tell she’s furious enough to kill with a look alone.

Whoa… whoa whoa whoa! Go, saint girl! I’d figured she’d been completely won over by their side by now… but maybe she’s actually got a pretty solid head on her shoulders?

Faced with her blazing anger, the blond prince can barely get a word in edgewise and looks utterly flustered, which gives me a small rush of satisfaction. The boy mage doesn’t seem to know how to react either—he keeps glancing back and forth between the saint and the prince while clutching his staff.

The red-haired knight in light armor manages to wedge himself between the prince and the saint in an attempt to calm her down, but he doesn’t seem capable of stopping her completely.

I worry the commotion might draw attention with how harshly she’s laying into him, but the people nearby, riding high on festival spirit, seem to just chalk it up to "some kind of spat among friends." It probably helps that we’re at the edge of the plaza, where it’s less crowded. I even catch a laid-back comment: “Humans really come in all kinds." Hm… As expected of a long-lived race. They look at things differently. That said, Mr. Xenon, who is still considered young among elves, openly shows his disgust, and Mr. Arthur appears deep in thought as well.

“Enough! I’ve told you countless times that I have no sympathy for those failed imitations of humans! If you’re truly a Saint, then learn your place and accept that already!”

“That makes no sense! Isn’t loving all living things equally exactly what being a ‘saint’ means!? Keep up this harassment garbage, and I’ll beat you black and blue and then kick you where it hurts most!”

Shaking off the knight trying to restrain her, the saint girl plants herself directly in front of the raging, shouting blond prince. Then she thrusts her hand into empty space… and the next moment she’s holding a folded bundle of cardboard that looks completely handmade.

Wait, isn’t that… one of those big slap fans they use in comedy routines!?

Here I’d been assuming she was some kind of protected, sheltered character, but she is going toe-to-toe with the nasty prince head-on! And also, where did that paper fan even come from, saint girl!?

“Grrr…! There’s no point in talking to you any further!”

“Hah!? There you go again, running off the second things get inconvenient for you…”

Perhaps the saint girl’s perfectly reasonable argument irritates him even further. The rotten prince stomps his feet in frustration and calls over the young mage. Seriously? He can’t win the argument, so he’s running away? How pathetic! He still looks underage at a glance, but he’s supposed to be a prince, isn’t he? Is that childish level of maturity really acceptable?

“Physais, we’re leaving! The Saint with the swollen head can just cool off here for a while!”

“Geez. You always make me do everything… I’ll leave the guard behind, so Lady Saint can stay here and cool off, okay?”

Ignoring my increasingly complicated feelings, the nasty prince vanishes along with the boy mage. The boy mage seems to be able to use teleportation magic—maybe that’s what he used? Well, if they were able to force-teleport me all the way from their home base to Riessfeld, moving himself around is probably a given. Ugh, so infuriating!

“…Hmph! Pathetic man! As if I need your permission—I’ll have fun here regardless!”

Meanwhile, snorting and flipping her long black hair back, the saint girl plants her feet firmly on the ground. Beside her, the red-haired knight fusses, "Are you all right? Weren’t you scared? I’m glad nothing happened even though you defied His Highness…!"—hovering around her like a big dog worried about a listless owner.

The knight tried to stop the prince, weak as the effort was, and he clearly cares about the saint girl’s well-being. Maybe I can file him under "decent" too.

“Let’s go, Sage! I want to drink that juice over there!”

“Ah, please wait, Lady Himari! I’m the one holding the wallet, please don’t go on ahead!”

Watching the saint tuck her paper fan away into who-knows-where again and walk off cheerfully with the knight, the people around us, who’d been stirred up by the one-sided argument, seem to sense things have settled down. The bright, lively festival atmosphere quickly returns.

I feel the breath I’d unconsciously been holding come easier now.

“Hey… are you alright, Rin?”

“Thank you, I’m okay, really… somehow, watching that girl just blew all my tension away.”

“You alright, Rin? Should we try some breathing exercises? In, in, out?”

‘Did something happen? Want to pet my back?’

“Thanks, Ms. Aria. But I don’t think that’s quite what I need right now… thanks to you too, Miso.”

Mr. Ville, judging the moment right now that they’re gone, calls out to me with concern. Ms. Aria, looking a bit flustered herself, gently rubs my back. Gomamiso, who’d been sitting this whole time quietly, hops onto my lap and rubs its head against my chest, purring.

When I look up, both my own party and everyone from the Azure Droplets are watching me with worried expressions… It’s incredibly reassuring, honestly.

But, how do I put it… I’m genuinely terrified at first, yet after watching that saint girl go off like that, I somehow start calming down. Could this be the saint’s “purification” power at work…!?

Come to think of it, that thing where the saint pulled the paper fan in and out of empty space… could that be some kind of item box or inventory skill? Maybe her main skill is something holy-type like "purification" or "blessing," and the sub-skill she got from the Otherworlder effect is "inventory"? I’m kind of jealous!

“I see… If those people are who I think they are, then the rumors we heard before weren’t off the mark.”

“Eh… you know about that group, Mr. Arth—”

Mr. Arthur, grilled meat sandwich in one hand, mutters this quietly while still watching the saint with his eyes.

Oh! Since the Azure Droplets take on missions abroad too, maybe all kinds of rumors reach their ears! Thinking that, I lean forward and ask before I can stop myself…

“Ah… Al’s busy chewing right now, so I’ll answer for him. Honestly, I wouldn’t say we ‘know’ them. We just happen to overhear a few rumors.”

“Right, right! During one of our expeditions, a party visiting from a neighboring country told us there were ‘some nobles running around causing a ton of trouble’!”

Unfortunately, I ask right after Mr. Arthur takes an enormous bite out of his sandwich. Ugh… I feel bad about that. Mr. Rolf and Ms. Sasa take turns explaining in his place while he chews away diligently, but the content of what they say is shocking enough to blow away any awkwardness over the bad timing!

Wait, they’re pulling the same nonsense abroad as well!? Surely their government is being buried under formal complaints by now!

Until just now, I’d been thinking about how to chase them off or shoo them away, but maybe I don’t need to do anything at all. They might get dragged back home on their own… or receive an urgent order to return immediately.

“I… seeee…”

“…It sounds like there’s a story behind this, but… maybe it’s better if we don’t ask for details?”

“Yes… For now, I’d really appreciate it if you could just leave it be.”

Mr. Arthur, having swallowed the mouthful of meat sandwich he was eating, speaks up to me as I nod along in understanding… but I’m still not ready to explain my circumstances. Sorry, but I think I’ll keep this top secret a little while longer.

Still, if word of their existence has even reached adventurers from a neighboring country, just how much chaos has the saint’s group been causing? Though from what Mr. Arthur, Mr. Rolf, and Ms. Sasa say, it doesn’t sound like they know the saint’s face, so it’s probably not like wanted posters are circulating or anything.

More importantly, how much does the saint’s group even remember about me? I got declared "useless!" and tossed aside right after the summoning, so they probably barely got a look at my face? It’d be dangerous if they checked my status, but there’s a good chance a passing glance alone won’t give me away.

According to Mr. Tori, "You don’t ask someone to reveal their status unless you trust them, and it’s considered proper manners not to." But knowing that awful prince… he seems exactly the type to say something like "What’s wrong with examining some lowly creature beneath humans!?" and do it without a second thought.

How much they remember about me is probably going to determine what I do from here on out…

“Wow… that braised pork smells amazing! Looks so gooood!”

“Ehyaaaa!?”

‘Nyaaaa!’

My body jerks up with a startled shriek, and the jolt sends Gomamiso, who’d been asleep, bolting up with a yelp of its own. When I hesitantly turn toward the voice… there stands the saint girl, her long black hair swaying, eyes practically sparkling.

Of all things, direct contact from the saint herself!? Speak of the devil, I guess!

“Eh, Ah… Thank… You… Very Much…”

“Ah! Sorry for popping up out of nowhere! It just smelled so nostalgic, I couldn’t help it!”

“N-No… It-It Is Fine!”

The saint girl keeps talking to me without showing any sign of finding my awkward, broken speech suspicious. Judging by her reaction, she doesn’t realize I’m the other person summoned alongside her. Hm… It’s a relief that my identity isn’t exposed, but at the same time it’s disappointing that we can’t bond over shared isekai experiences. It’s a complicated feeling. After all, unlike that prince, the saint seems like a genuinely nice girl, so I start hoping we might become friends. Honestly, I’m way too easy.

Anyway, this is the first time I’ve gotten a good long look at the saint’s face, and yup—she’s definitely got that "saint" look going on. Sleek, glossy black hair and poreless, porcelain-smooth skin. Her features are cute, sure, but there’s also this glow to her, like light seeping out from somewhere deep inside. And more than anything, the fact that she can approach a total stranger without a hint of hesitation, drawn purely by a smell… she’s got some great social skills, right?

Also, even while talking to me, her eyes stay glued to the braised Dinaronewt the entire time. She’s around high school age, probably still at that stage where you’re hungry again no matter how much you eat. No doubt about it—the braised meat smell really did lure her in.

“Um… Want Some Braised Pork? It Is Good!”

“…Eh!?”

The moment I think that, I can’t just sit there, and before I know it, I’m offering her some braised pork. Instantly, the saint’s face lights up… yup, she’s probably homesick in the food department too, I realize, somehow just sensing it.

But that expression, so genuinely happy and relaxed, crumples into an awkward, apologetic droop the very next moment.

“Eh, ah, um, that’s not… I really didn’t come over here meaning to ask for that… um, it really did just smell nostalgic, I wasn’t even thinking about it…”

“Naaah! There Is Plenty! Do Not Worry! Holding Back When You Want To Eat Is Bad!”

Her heart, apparently having lost the battle against the temptation of braised pork, finally seems to regain some sense of reason. Flustered, the saint girl tries to hurry away from the table. But her eyes stay locked, sparkling, on the braised pork the entire time…

Feeling nostalgic at the distinctly Japanese gesture of frantically waving both hands side to side, I quickly catch one of them and encourage her to sit down. I mean, sure, it would be easy to let the saint leave now, but we’ve already made contact, haven’t we? In that case, maybe it’s worth seeing just how far this interaction can go.

The Illustration’s description: The saint startled Rin and Gomamiso.

Plus, the fact that she stood her ground and argued straight back at the blond prince, instead of just going along with his discriminatory remarks, really scores major points with me. It’d be so much easier to smooth things over and avoid causing waves, so having the backbone to actually push back and resist like that is impressive.

To begin with, the saint’s still at an age where she’d probably still be under her parents’ protection back home, so not being able to eat what she wants to eat just seems kind of sad. No matter how delicious the food in this world is, of course, you’re going to miss the tastes you grew up with, right? Well, I have no way of knowing what kind of life she’s been living since being transported here, so I don’t actually know what she’s been eating.

Like I was thinking earlier, I’m pretty sure the saint’s skills are the holy-type ones—purification, blessing, that sort of thing—plus something item-storage related, like an item box or inventory. My guess is she probably doesn’t have any food-related skills.

And even if she did happen to be someone who could cook, getting hold of rice, miso, or soy sauce in this world can’t be easy… So it wouldn’t be surprising at all if the smell of braised pork gave her a little pang of homesickness.

…As I mull all this over, I start thinking, leaving a hungry fellow countrywoman sitting there like this just doesn’t feel right, you know? Since we’re at it, I want to fill her belly up properly!

“Food Tastes Better When Everyone Eats Together!”

“Eh, um… but…”

“It Is Fine! No Worries!”

Seeing me continue my bizarre broken speech, Mr. Ville and the others seem to pick up on what I’m trying to do. Without making a fuss, they shuffle their seats around so I can sit after giving the seat of honor to the saint girl. Meanwhile, Mr. Arthur and his group are playing it off with a look that says, "Oh, she’s always like this, don’t mind her!”

Pushed along by me, the saint sits down in the seat of honor too, flustered but going along with it… Good! Everything’s proceeding exactly as I planned!

…Actually, during this whole back-and-forth, I glance over half-expecting the knight to come rushing in to stop things, but… he actually looks a little relieved watching me interact with the saint. Given they just had that huge public blowup a moment ago, he probably feels reassured seeing us "locals"—or so they think we are—getting along with the saint without any friction.

Hmm. This whole situation does leave a bit of a guilty taste in my mouth, like I’m deceiving them somehow. But then again, the elves around us all have that "well, humans really do come in all types" look on their faces! So probably nobody’s too bothered by it, yup!

“Heeere! Eat A Lot!”

“Wah, wah, this much!? Big sis, you’re seriously a god! An angel! Thank you so much!”

“What’s this? You that hungry, missy? Then here, try the grilled meat too!”

The more braised pork and steamed buns I pile up in front of the seated saint, the brighter her eyes shine. This is clearly the moment her reason loses to her appetite.

Watching the saint stare at the food, Mr. Rolf must not be able to hold back either—he starts competing with me, piling pocket bread and grilled meat onto a plate.

Well, that’s just how it goes. The person in charge of cooking is the kind of creature who feels genuine joy watching someone eat what they made, so it can’t be helped! If anything, I’m actively eager to feed her more!

And on top of that, the saint has never tasted our cooking before. She’s a first-time customer, so to speak. The opinion of a first-time customer is exactly the kind of thing a cook desperately wants to hear! In other words, Mr. Rolf and I are currently food monsters driven by an irresistible urge to feed her!

The saint’s eyes go sparkling back and forth between us—grinning ear to ear as we lay out dish after dish—and the ever-growing mountain of food in front of her. And finally, she must not be able to hold back any longer. She claps her hands together in front of her chest with a loud smack and breaks into the biggest smile I’ve seen from her all day.

“Thank you so much, Itadakimasu!”

Ooh! "A saint who properly says ‘itadakimasu’ is truly admirable!"—while I’m busy being impressed by that, her hand’s already reaching for the braised pork sandwich. It gives me a strange mix of pride and embarrassment that she picked that one first. It’s the dish she’d been reacting to earlier, after all!

Well, technically it’s braised Dinaronewt instead of braised pork… but braised pork is braised pork. I’ll let that slide.

My eyes catch on the saint’s hand as she grips the braised pork sandwich. It’s a soft, pretty hand, well cared for down to the fingertips. Her hair has a healthy shine too, and she doesn’t appear worn down or burdened by any obvious physical or emotional scars.

Hmm, hmm… Judging by this, her relationship with the rest of the group probably isn’t great, but it doesn’t look like she’s being "mistreated" either. I’m relieved that the saint, happily digging into her braised pork sandwich right in front of me, doesn’t seem to be getting bullied by that lot, yup.

“Wow! What is this? It’s so ridiculously good! Grandma’s braised pork was delicious too, but this is amazing!”

“Hooray! Glad You Like It!”

“The skin’s so much fluffier than my bed! I wanna get squished between layers of it sooo badly♡! And the meat is all melty and juicy too—this stuff is basically juice♡♡!”

Swallowing what’s in her mouth, the saint lets out little squeals of delight.

Oh dear? Her table manners are neat, she eats politely, and she’s clearly enjoying every bite—as the cook, there’s really no higher honor than that… but the saint’s got a pretty intense food-review commentary style, huh?

The bit about sleeping on the skin, I actually think about the same thing while I’m cooking it, so that one I get… but calling braised pork a "juice" is a genuinely novel take. Like calling curry a beverage or something? If you make it looser, more like a loose rillette, then sure, maybe you could call it "nectar-style"… maybe… but no, I really think calling it a juice is a stretch, saint girl!

…Still, I’m genuinely glad she’s enjoying it so much!

“This steak sandwich is amazing too! It’s more authentic-tasting than the kebab Mom and I used to buy on the street! Hey, Sage, you should eat some too!”

To the saint, the grilled meat apparently reads as "steak." And so the knight’s actual name is Sage, huh. In my head, "Sage" usually conjures up someone with knowledge-type skills or a support role, so it doesn’t quite click with what’s clearly a front-line knight type… but well, this knight seems like a sincere, earnest kid. “Sage the Honest Knight,” I guess.

“N-No, I really shouldn’t…”

“It’s SO good, come on, eat with me!”

Having already polished off the kebab-style sandwich stuffed with grilled otherworld meat in pocket bread, the saint’s now pushing both the braised pork sandwich and the kebab sandwich on Sage. He’s desperately trying to decline, but judging by how hard she’s pushing, I give it a minute before he caves.

And besides, with a brand new eater on the scene, there’s no way we cooking folk could just sit back and stay quiet, right?

“Absolutely! Don’t hold back, dig in!”

“Right, Right! Eat, Eat!”

“Ugh! Ah, um… well, just one piece then…”

“Oh, Sage, always so bashful. Here!”

His mistake is yielding, even for a moment, to a pair of feedback-addicted cooks determined not to let new prey escape. We immediately seize the opportunity, sit Sage beside the saint girl, and pile mountains of food in front of him. Welcome to the table where you can’t leave until you’ve eaten and given your opinion!

Sage keeps glancing around anxiously even after sitting down, so the saint thrusts the kebab sandwich right at him. He hesitates for a second… but eventually caves to her momentum, taking the offered sandwich with a bashful sort of reverence. Then, seeming to steel himself, he takes a bite.

“Ah… It’s good.”

“See!?”

The comment slips out of Sage’s mouth without meaning to. Spoken in his regular tone, no formal speech at all, it’s clearly his genuine, unfiltered reaction. Hearing it, the saint puffs up her chest with a triumphant, ear-to-ear smile, like she’s just proven her point.

Yup, when you eat something delicious, the smile just comes naturally! Watching the saint’s smile makes me happy too!

“This is genuinely irresistible! One bite and the savory richness of the meat and spices hits you right away, but the crisp vegetables keep it refreshing, so you just keep going for one more bite, and then another. Honestly, I’d love to see this served regularly at the castle dining hall!”

“Right?! It’s dangerously addictive! I know it’s a lot of calories, but… I just can’t stop eating it!”

Eyes shining, Sage polishes off the kebab sandwich in no time flat. Judging by that, he must really like it. Being a knight, he’s probably plenty active on a daily basis, so a kebab sandwich packed with carbs and protein, with that punch of salt and fat, must taste incredible to him.

And apparently deciding one kebab sandwich isn’t nearly enough to fill Sage’s stomach, the saint, beaming with the biggest, most satisfied smile, now brings the braised pork sandwich up to Sage’s mouth.

“Here, Sage! This one next! This one’s really, really good too!”

“Eh? Ah, no, Lady Himari… I’ve already had…”

“Come on, come on! Here, say ahh!”

“…!”

Sage’s face goes bright red as the saint offers up the braised pork sandwich to his mouth with her own hand. …Ah, yes. This is definitely one of those “aaah” situations. Before Sage can say anything, the saint pushes the sandwich even closer to his mouth. Actually, wait, is she doing this completely unconsciously? Isn’t this a little too oblivious-protagonist of her?

Then again… this world’s originally based on an otome game, so this level of physical closeness might just be par for the course. And honestly, watching young people’s romance blossom is sweet and exciting even from the sidelines. Personally, I think Sage should just surrender and let the saint girl win this one.

“A-Ahh…”

Right in front of me, doing my best not to let the grin show on my face, Sage resigns himself and bites into the offered braised pork sandwich. Yes! The "ahh" scene is established!

Watching this sweet slice of young romance unfold, I take a bite of my own braised pork sandwich too.

…Yup! Even after eating it so many times, it’s still delicious, if I do say so myself! The fluffy bread soaked through with the braising liquid and meat juices… this really is paradise!

Munching on my sandwich, I glance over and see both the saint and Sage are clearly enjoying their food.

Yup. Good food always tastes even better when shared with others!

“Thanks, big sis!”

“You Are Welcome. You Are Young, So Eat Plenty!”

Munching away on her various sandwiches, the saint thanks me, and beside her, Sage—more reserved but clearly enjoying his grilled meat sandwich—gives a small, slightly bashful laugh. Oh, there it is. I see. This stern-looking knight is actually pretty cute when he smiles, huh?

Ahh… this really feels like youth! Being young is nice. Watching them with a warm, heartwarming feeling, I see the saint and Sage keep polishing off dish after dish.

“Whew, I’m full! Gochisousamadeshita!”

With a bright, radiant smile, the saint claps her hands together in front of her chest. Oh! The nostalgic Japanese-style gesture!

In this world, there seem to be prayers before meals, but a prayer of thanks after eating doesn’t seem to be common. The Gourmands members, who know I say "itadakimasu" and "gochisousama" before and after meals, are looking at the saint with a knowing expression. Even so, none of them try to ask questions, which is impressive in its own way…

Having no idea whatsoever what we’re all thinking, the saint’s face, contentedly smiling until now, suddenly clouds over.

“—Ah, um… Wh-What do I do? You gave me so much food, and I don’t have anything to give back in return!”

“I-Indeed! It’s only a small token, but please accept our modest thanks—”

“You Do Not Need That! We Are Just Happy You Ate So Much!”

“That’s right! Just seeing that delicious, happy smile of yours while eating what we cooked was more than enough for us!”

The saint flusters about in a panic, while Sage tries to pull something that looks like money out of a pouch on his belt. Rolf and I hurriedly stop both of them.

Getting to have someone eat what we cooked and hear their genuine, fresh reactions was already more than enough—there’s no way we’re accepting anything more as payment!

Our feelings must have gotten through, because after a moment of troubled thought, the saint finally seems to accept it.

“Thank you both so much, big sis and big bro! Thanks to this delicious food, I feel super energized now!”

“I Am Glad To Hear That!”

She shakes my hand enthusiastically first… then goes on to give Rolf an equally vigorous handshake. Is it just my imagination, or is there literally a glow of gratitude radiating off the saint’s beaming face?

“Thank you both so, so much! I’ll never forget how kind you were to me! Let’s go, Sage!”

“We are deeply grateful for your kindness! I swear, someday, we will repay this debt!”

Bowing to us over and over, the saint dashes off into the crowd with the knight beside her. Amid the noise, I catch a fragment of "Once we get back, I’m giving those two a piece of my mind!"… Hmm… judging by that, the saint really does seem like quite a "good kid"—or rather, someone capable of respecting cultural differences.

Plus, her affection levels with the capture targets other than the sensible Sage seem pretty low—maybe all that effort grinding through events one by one is paying off?

“She was kind of like a whirlwind, wasn’t she?”

“Eh, ah… Y-Yes…”

“It seems like there’s quite a story behind all this… but when you’re ready to talk about it, let us know, okay?”

What pulls me out of my thoughts is Mr. Arthur’s voice, carrying a hint of something meaningful. When I glance over, sure enough, the gorgeous elf is wearing the most knowing smile you ever did see… Ahh, that loaded expression!

…That said, it seems Mr. Arthur has no intention of digging any deeper. Along with that suggestive remark, he throws me a wink with enough force that it practically comes with its own sound effect.

“Well then… there’s still plenty of food left, and the celebration is only getting started, isn’t it, Rin?”

“Even you, Mr. Ville…”

“That’s right, Rin! Whoever has the most fun wins!”

It’s always my companions’ hands that warm my trembling, anxious back. Sandwiched securely between Mr. Ville and Ms. Aria, an unfounded sense of relief fills me, like everything’s going to be fine somehow.

“Come on! Another toast!”

“Eh, ah… ch-cheers?”

Following their lead, I clink glasses with everyone and mediate the battle over the remaining food… With echoes of the saint’s whirlwind visit still lingering here and there, the celebration wraps itself in thick, buzzing warmth, and the excitement climbs even higher.

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