Warm Days (1)
It was a moonlit night.
With the full moon hanging high, it had to be around midnight.
Unlike Earth's moon, this one was ringed by a meteor-like halo, making it look like Saturn up close.
I was out on a night hunt with the hunter Elias.
When you think fantasy hunter, it's gotta be an elf, right? Yeah, Elias was an elf.
The first time I saw him, I got all excited thinking Legolas from The Lord of the Rings was standing right in front of me.
His shimmering golden hair cascading as he held his bow, that refined handsome face, the sharp nose. A young man so stunning even guys would swoon.
And then he flashes that studly smile and says to me:
"Hah~~damn. Ya this bastard, ya eunuch... nah, male whore or somethin'? Tsk, or ya pure virgin boy?"
Maybe it's 'cause he's a long-lived elf, but the words comin' outta that Legolas face are extremely rustic.
Face of the new generation, mindset of the fifties. Speech so crude it's unreal.
Anyway, his words hit my ears harder than winter's biting wind.
It had snowed the day before yesterday. But with the icy scorn from the guy next to me, I barely felt the cold.
"Ya bastard. Look, what's wrong with Reshi?
In this season when ya can rub skin and get all warm together, when else ya gonna snuggle and poke her?
Hah, ya belly too full or somethin'? Or ya gettin' sucked off somewhere else?"
The gap between his looks and his mouth sometimes makes my head spin. Harsher than trudging snowy paths at midnight.
"Reshi's still young. I mean, at my age... doesn't it feel kinda off?"
"Hah damn, ya pup grabbin' wrinkles in front of a cocoon. Village chief's one thing, but Reshi and Ferio? To me, they're both green sprouts crawlin' on all fours.
Ya bastard! A man's grown when he dreams dirty, a girl's grown when she tracks her moon cycle."
Dunno his exact age, this elf, but from his talk, he's lived a long damn time.
"Shtai's mare don't complain when the stallion mounts, so if ya aim yer lower half right and snap yer hips like drawin' a bowstring, ain't it done? What, yer arrow shaft bend after two shots?"
Man, this old man's talk is dizzying. Came all the way to another world just to hear HR-level sexual harassment.
Of course, I get his intent. Crude words, but he's tryin' to hook me up with Reshi somehow.
Lately, not just Elias—even other villagers are givin' me subtle looks.
Probably schemin' some village repopulation plan behind my back.
I ain't against it, and I got urges like any guy, but thinkin' of holdin' Reshi feels like bangin' my niece or pimpin' a high schooler—major turn-off.
Even in this isekai without child protection laws, the biases from my old world don't fade easy. Feels like they've gotten stronger.
Sometimes I think: the reason I'm still me in this world is those memories and experiences. Without 'em, cheat or no cheat, I'm nothin'.
Doesn't mean my male libido vanished, though. Got my ways to vent it.
"That's why Ferio comes around now too..."
"That's why I said don't play noble plaything. That's temporary.
Don't even think 'bout sellin' yer body for status climb.
She'll end up on the path fit for her station soon enough."
"No, not like that, right now..."
Suddenly, Elias shut his mouth and raised a fist. Signal to focus and stay quiet.
Sometime between the harassment chit-chat, we'd reached the midnight hunting grounds.
Frivolous usually, but hunting? Dead serious. Moments like this, he is that movie elf.
Elias and I checked our daggers weren't frozen stiff from the cold, then nocked arrows to our bows.
These prep moves were second nature now.
The "night hunting ground" ain't special—just a spot where, even in snowfall, blue grass sprouts like midwinter greenery.
Herbivores like rabbits and horned deer flock to graze it.
Oh, horned deer? Yeah, actual antlered deer.
Not noble steeds—these things gore ya if yer too close, virgin or geezer.
...
Elias signaled me silently with hand gestures.
We slipped into the brush along the ridge, downwind so no movement or scent gave us away.
Never got why moon goddess Artemis ruled the hunt—now I do.
Midnight moonlight casts shadows that outline targets in stark black-and-white. Like shootin' range silhouettes.
Here too, the moon goddess is huntress. Erv-something? Name too long, didn't memorize.
Tonight, she spotlighted a distant horned deer for us.
Elias pointed out the target.
We nocked arrows, drew strings taut.
"[May Elvensinkara's fingertips caress us...]"
Elias loosed with a short ancient-language prayer.
I fired simultaneously from a bit away.
Two arrows from different angles nailed the big horned deer.
Thwunk!!
Elias's arrow punched through with an extra-loud crack.
Startled herd scattered; the big one, hit twice, staggered a few steps and collapsed.
We waited till the herd fully dispersed, then emerged.
"Same arrows—how's the power gap this big?"
"Experience and blessin' difference. C'mon, hustle and prep."
Elias drew his dagger, approached the fallen deer cautiously. No slackin' just 'cause it's down.
Man or beast, they can flare up right before death. Even a moment's thrash can maim ya.
Elias checked its breath, murmured a quick prayer.
Then slit its throat to end any lingerin' life.
And... butchering began.
Some manga says drain blood right after for tender meat, proper trimmin' etc.
Ain't gourmet here. We do bleed it, though.
Long while later, finally done.
No matter how ya slice it, processin' meat's harder than huntin'.
Hack off waste with hand-axe, wipe blood with snow, etc.—total mini construction site.
We left guts and scraps at the site, headed village-ward.
Guts for other hungry hunters, he says.
Keeps winter-wakin' carnivores from sniffin' toward village.
Never seen or heard such courtesy back home.
Local custom or Elias's hunting ground management trick, probably.
Anyway, took the good eats, lightened the load—win-win.
Now just endure Elias's blizzard of curses and the venison weight.
"Ya dislike my horse mouth? All for safe return. Got it?"
"Cursin' makes it safer? Ain't the noise risky?"
"That's right. Holler rough in dark woods, carnivores think it's threat and steer clear.
They wanna hunt safe too."
For real? Joke?
Elf old man way older than me—ease up on confusin' the fresh adult.
"Uncle back?"
Reshi greeted me home like a daughter welcomin' dad.
P.S. My house. Midnight. No misunderstandings.
Her bein' here ain't for that—absolutely not.
If so, Elias wouldn't nag me earlier.
Can't think modern boiler-home standards.
Unlike home winters, solo sleep here means freezin' before dawn.
Braise a fire? Might freeze before lightin', and firewood ain't infinite.
So need someone to mind hearth temp while I'm gone, share body heat in bed, check each other midnight.
Could crash at village chief's always-fired house.
Nah! I ain't bein' a slave!
"House got Reshi instead of icicles—livin' good."
"Warmed some fruit wine too."
"Ahh, thanks."
Downed the warm cup from her before even shed snow-soaked furs.
Alcohol in cold hits different. Why Russians can't quit booze.
Mood lifts, body goes all languid.
Wait, Reshi—what ya doin'?
Why suddenly strippin' my fur—nah, my clothes!?
"Cold tonight, so this fur goes atop the quilt. C'mon, strip quick—snow-wet needs dryin'."
"Actin' like full housewife already. Hey! No need for pants!?"
"Don't space out—shed snow clothes, change quick."
"Yes'm, ma'am."
Age aside, here Reshi's the senior.
I barely know winter survival—gotta follow her lead.
"Uncle, don't chuck in corner—hang near heat!
Moisture freezes sticks 'em. Ruins the clothes!"
Ahh, so that's why moms nag kids to tidy rooms.
In undies, got scolded by Reshi while fussin' to sort.
While she fed/stoked the brazier, I hit the bed.
Not lazy—warmin' it with body heat.
"Again layin' first. No 'body heat' excuse—use hot stones."
Yeah, slacking. Sorry. Booze got me mellow, hunt fatigue crashin'.
"Sigh, just grinnin' dopey."
Reshi sighed like wife with hopeless hubby, but fetched a heated stone with tongs to bed-bottom.
Ugh, heat saps my strength.
Prep done, Reshi slipped into my bed.
As said, winter demands shared quilt for warmth.
Cozy heat plus her happy scent.
"Good work today, Uncle."
Ahh... ain't this what weary dads crave most from daughters?
Hugged Reshi tight under quilts.
"Kyaa! What!?"
"Just... warmin' ya."
She squirmed a sec—not resist, just settlin' comfy.
Stroked her settled head, untangled pressed/tangled hair.
...
Soon, cradled Reshi breathed even on my arm.
Arm numb tomorrow, prob'ly. But tonight, sleep like this.
A night warming body and soul.