Chapter 10
Chapter 10
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 10
Chapter Title: Potato Flowers
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Everything will turn out fine.
Because that is the Lord's will.
Modest, not quite worthy of being called a divine power,
too trivial to deem a miracle.
I've never failed at cooking once in my life.
"Even when I slathered the turkey in sauce and just spun it roughly over the fire, it cooked through perfectly."
"It's crispy. And moist inside."
"That's because the Lord blesses me. Nothing to do but be grateful."
When I toss ingredients together in what feels like the right rough proportions, it really turns out right. When I think it's done and turn off the heat, it truly is.
The possibility of the cooking succeeding is selectively manifested into reality. I don't know why the Lord granted me this power, but surely there's a reason behind it.
"Eat up, Roca."
She still shies away a lot,
but she seems to have grown a little closer to the wolf in our house.
Whoosh.
Maybe that's just wishful thinking on my part.
What does it matter?
Glance.
But after finishing her meal, the girl poked her head out from behind her door.
She looked at me for a moment, then ducked back inside. When I headed to the garden to do the dishes, she slinked after me. There used to be no well here, but I made one. Not by the Lord's will, but by my own.
One of the many miracles I can wield.
A spring of reviving water bubbled up in the corner of the garden.
Clear water that never froze, even in winter's chill. Spring had come, but nights were still cold—yet every morning I checked, it remained unfrozen, quietly welling up.
As time passes, suns set, and even moons wane,
this spring will always rise clear and pure.
That's why it's a miracle,
that's why it's holy.
Not so long ago, back when I adventured with the Glassnel Party, this miracle ensured we never lacked for water.
'Once I'm done, maybe some cleaning?'
Well, Mr. Rubelt gave me Roca expecting her to handle chores like this,
but reality meant one more person meant twice the laundry, twice the dishes, and cleaning about 1.3 times harder. Because of all the fur stuck everywhere.
'Where's that slime tape?'
Slime tape, made from the adhesive slime beasts secrete, was originally invented for nobles to clean pet fur. Roca wasn't exactly my pet, but I couldn't deny how useful it was for me.
Scrub. Swipe. Scrub scrub scrub.
Sweep with the broom, wipe with the rag. It's my house, so letting it get dirty only hurts me.
Dust off, wipe down, and evening was already approaching. I'd announced a week ago that the clinic would be closed today, so no issues there.
'Using it for cleaning feels like an unworthy extravagance.'
Wherever the rag passed, dust vanished and surfaces gleamed—but the rag itself barely dirtied.
The water from that spring was the Lord's miracle, not common worldly water, but holy water.
It didn't have the demon-exorcising power of other gods' holy water,
but it was perfect for cleaning, laundry, dishes, anything. Even great for bathing. My old comrade, Lucia Western, treasured her armor and gear like her own life, but even she acknowledged this spring water's efficacy.
She used to scrub them thoroughly with water and meticulously oil them,
but at some point, she started just washing them once with this water and calling it done.
Because they didn't rust, the edges sharpened, and they gleamed.
It seems trivial, and truly is minor,
but this too is one of the Lord's miracles.
'Almost done... Huh?'
As I wrung out the rag and set it to dry,
then turned to face the garden.
I saw flowers adorning the frozen ground in white. Some pure white, others faintly pink. But neither belonged in this winter scene.
"Potato flowers?"
Anyone who plants potatoes would know potato flowers.
The problem was, I'd never planted potatoes in this garden...
Not even a sprout in sight,
yet in the few hours I cleaned, potato flowers had bloomed vibrantly.
I'd bought this house in winter to begin with,
and even if the previous owner had planted seed potatoes, they'd have frozen dead.
Potato flowers blooming like a flower bed in the garden corner could only be a miracle, no matter how you looked at it.
A letter sent to me by my Lord.
'If I don't pick those flowers, the potatoes won't tuber well...'
But that too wasn't grown by my hands, but blessed by the Lord.
I didn't want to pluck them myself.
Swish.
Lost gazing at the flowers, I felt eyes on me. Turning, sure enough, Roca stared intently again.
She fidgeted, anxious. Our eyes met, and she hid again.
My first thought was, 'Is it mealtime already?'
'Time to eat?'
Even hungry, she couldn't tell me,
just fidgeted—by now, I was used to it.
'Not time to be hungry yet, is it?'
We'd had a hearty lunch, and only about three hours had passed?
Maybe less. Checking the living room clock confirmed it.
Slink.
The door opened, and Roca emerged. She slinked closer, then danced back hesitantly.
We'd lived together a month; I knew this wasn't her begging for food.
My next thought: maybe she's hurt?
'Where does it hurt?'
My gaze drifted to the kitchen candle—the sanctuary candle.
Unimpressive as it looked, that too was a miracle. Power bestowed directly by the Lord.
As long as that candle burned, this house was a sanctuary. Impure things couldn't approach, plagues couldn't invade, and no matter what lurked outside, one could sleep in peace.
Even if mortally wounded, inside the sanctuary—if not already dead—the body would steadily improve. Worsening was impossible. At least by my understanding.
'If something powerful enough to breach the sanctuary lurked, I'd have noticed.'
And no matter what, if she was hurt, would she act like this instead of saying so? I'd been hurt myself; when pain hits, vision narrows to nothing else.
Treating the pained meant bracing for curses as standard. I knew they weren't aimed at me, so it didn't faze me.
If truly hurt, no one stays silent.
Rustle.
Thump.
It happened in an instant of surprise.
Roca appeared right before me. Then lightly bonked her small head against my hand. Before I could react, she startled more and bolted, keeping distance.
'No way...?'
Her uneasy gaze flicked across my face.
Gathering courage from it, the girl approached again, rubbing her face against mine. Cautiously, slowly. I gently stroked her head; she flinched back. But only for a moment.
The girl approached very slowly, ears twitching.
Her tail stood rigid, betraying her tension. I stayed still, just extending a hand with a smile. Roca neared my hand but flinched away again. Still, I didn't withdraw, and she didn't retreat further.
If the child was ready to approach me,
she'd come without me doing anything.
If not ready yet,
I'd wait a bit longer.
Until she was ready to open her heart.
Until she believed it was safe to trust me.
Did she finally believe I wouldn't harm her? Roca approached once more. This time, she hugged my extended hand tight, rubbing her face furiously against it. I hugged her; she leaned into my chest, breathing deep. Tears already welled in her eyes.
"It's okay. Cry if you want. Don't hold back."
"Hic... Sniff..."
"Roca. You're a person. You can cry when you want, act spoiled when you want, lean when you need to."
Just from being sold into slavery as a child, you could guess.
How much sorrow she'd endured.
How much sadness she'd faced.
Behind me, my Lord watches over me. But behind this child, nothing.
Truly, nothing. No god, no human, no protector for her.
"People don't need things like this. Roca, you're free."
I touched the necklace she'd never worn, unclasping it.
This treats people like livestock. It defies the Lord's will.
I took the slavery contract from the drawer, held it to the table's candle.
"In my Lord's name."
The sanctuary candle burned the paper, then the ashes, until nothing remained.
Slavery contracts are enchanted, hard to tear or burn,
but that flame is not mine—it's the Lord's, so of course it burned away.
"You, Roca, are now free."
"Sob... Hic... Waaah... Waaaaaah!"
As the child clung tight, I held the girl close.
The Lord became my godparent, guiding me,
keeping me from evil paths,
granting peaceful ways when I wandered astray.
This foolish human, unable even to match a fraction of the great Lord's will,
now shares a sliver of the grace received, passing it to this small girl.
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