Too Burdensome to Simply Enjoy
Too burdensome to simply enjoy.
At some point I realized I was sitting alone at an enormous table, waiting for the food to arrive.
...I feel like I'm living in far too much luxury.
Just a little while ago I had clearly been walking along the beach.
I had been fascinated by the sand seeping between my toes and kept stepping this way and that, savoring the feel of the waves wrapping around my ankles before retreating, and every so often I would pick up a pretty seashell and tuck it into my hair.
The whole time, people had trailed after me carrying parasols, chairs, silver trays of water, and baskets of fruit.
The moment I slowed my pace even a little, a chair would rush forward. If I licked my lips once, several people would compete to offer me water. And if my stomach made so much as a tiny sound, dozens of faces would turn grave all at once.
Until then it had been fairly entertaining.
Everything I did was given meaning, and they grew emotional and bustled about over even the smallest action; it was fascinating to watch.
The problem was a single careless remark I let slip.
"Something smells delicious."
I had simply caught the scent of grilled fish drifting on the wind from deeper inside the harbor.
In that instant the faces of the priests, attendants, officials, and merchants following me all stiffened at once.
While I tilted my head, wondering if I had said something wrong, the elderly priest at the front of the group widened his eyes and cried out.
"The Mother is hungry!"
With that shout, our peaceful stroll turned into a battlefield.
Someone yelled to summon the finest chef in the port. Someone else ordered the City Lord's entire kitchen emptied. Still others raced off to the merchants to buy up every fresh ingredient in the market.
"Pick the best of today's catch!"
"Bring every fruit that was meant as tribute for the royal family!"
"Open the spice stores!"
"The bread must be baked fresh starting now!"
"Prepare the temple's sacramental grape juice as well!"
Orders poured from every direction, and people sprinted into the city without waiting to see who would go first.
I stared blankly at their retreating backs and raised a hand.
"I only said the smell was nice."
My words came too late.
The old priest bowed his head, his face filled with deep emotion.
"Our frugal Mother seeks not to burden us."
"No, that isn't what I—"
"Please do not concern yourself."
He continued firmly.
"Simply granting us the chance to serve the Mother is an immeasurable honor."
What happened after that, even I do not remember clearly.
Apparently unwilling to end my walk, they decided to prepare a meal in a place with a clear view of the beach.
I told them I did not care where they set the table.
Upon hearing that single sentence, they spent a long time arguing over which building in the harbor had the finest view.
Some insisted the City Lord's mansion was the most splendid. Others claimed the temple dedicated to the sea was the most proper. Still others argued that a plaza close to the citizens would best display the Mother's benevolence.
In the end the place that satisfied everyone was a grand banquet hall on a hill overlooking both the beach and the harbor at a glance.
It had originally been built to entertain foreign nobles and merchant-guild leaders, they said.
They prepared a palanquin and carriages once more to escort me there.
Since I had been saying for some time that I wanted to keep walking, I ended up climbing the hill myself under the escort of dozens of guards.
Even as I walked, soldiers cleared the path ahead of me, attendants carefully held my hair so it would not drag on the ground behind me, and priests on either side never stopped checking whether anything was making me uncomfortable.
The commotion did not end even after we arrived at the banquet hall.
They brought a new carpet because the color of the one on the floor did not match my hair. They hung thin cloth over the windows because the sunlight might be too bright. And people seriously debated whether the sea breeze was too strong or whether blocking it would make the room stuffy.
When I sat in the chair, the height of the chair itself became the next problem.
The seat, made for an adult man, was far too large for my current body.
If I leaned against the backrest my feet dangled high above the floor, and I had to lift my shoulders hard just to rest my arms on the table.
The attendants' faces went deathly pale at the sight.
"The chair does not suit the Mother's sacred form."
"Bring cushions!"
"A footrest is needed as well!"
"Pad the backrest with soft cloth!"
Moments later three plush cushions were stacked beneath me, a small jewel-decorated footrest was placed under my feet, and a large cushion stuffed with bird feathers was propped behind my back.
As a result I looked less like I was sitting in a chair and more like I had been buried between soft fabrics and cushions.
It felt a little overwhelming at first, but once I adjusted my posture it was actually quite comfortable.
Leaning into the soft backrest and resting my bare feet on the footrest, the slight ache in my legs from walking so long on the beach quickly eased.
I let out a satisfied breath without thinking.
"This is nice."
At that single remark the attendant who had brought the cushions teared up, and the one who had moved the footrest placed a hand over his chest with an overwhelmed expression.
Anyone watching would have thought they had just completed a decades-long great work.
After that they declared that nothing must disturb my meal and emptied the entire vast banquet hall.
I was left alone in the best seat at a long table that could easily seat dozens, while the priests, the City Lord, officials, and nobles all withdrew near the walls and stood with their hands clasped.
It was not as though there were no seats.
Dozens of chairs lined both sides of the table.
Yet no one dared sit at the same table as me.
Even after I told them several times that it was fine to eat together, they only bowed more deeply.
"Simply being able to behold the Mother dining from nearby is enough."
"We could never commit the discourtesy of sitting at the same table."
"We shall attend you from here."
And so I ended up sitting alone at the far end of an excessively wide table.
An endless white tablecloth stretched before me, lined with silverware, clear glass goblets, and plates of every size and shape arranged in neat rows.
There were several forks and knives alone.
I had no idea which to use first.
Even in my previous life I had never eaten a meal this formal.
The fanciest restaurants I had visited were just special-occasion meat houses or buffets, and places with multiple forks I had only ever seen on screens.
I picked up the small fork closest to me, then looked at the larger one beside it.
I could not tell how their uses differed.
When my hand froze in midair, the shoulders of the attendants standing by the wall stiffened all at once.
Several of them exchanged glances and urgently began searching for the cause.
They seemed to think the arrangement of the utensils displeased me.
I set the small fork down before any unnecessary fuss could start.
Just then a young maid standing to my right carefully stepped forward.
"Are the utensils inconvenient?"
"No."
I pointed with my fingertip at the tools neatly laid out on the table.
"I just don't know what to use for what."
The air inside the banquet hall stopped.
People's expressions shifted in subtle ways.
For a moment I worried they would look at me as if to say, "A goddess doesn't even know that?" but instead they soon gazed at one another with faces mixing awe and reverence.
"The Mother is not bound by the empty formalities created by humans."
"There is no reason the Primordial Being should know human table manners."
"We have been foolish."
"Remove the unnecessary utensils at once."
Attendants quickly approached and cleared away most of the forks and knives.
Moments later only a small fork, a spoon, and a single knife remained in front of me.
I nodded in satisfaction at the simplified table.
"Thank you."
The young maid's face flushed bright red.
She placed her trembling hands over her chest and bowed deeply at the waist.
"I shall treasure this as a lifelong honor."
A simple word of thanks had become a lifelong honor.
I closed my mouth, unable to say anything more.
Still, once the food started coming out, people's attention would hopefully scatter a little.
Fortunately, beyond the banquet hall the kitchen never stopped with the sound of countless footsteps and clattering dishes.
Every time the thick door opened, fragrant aromas rushed in.
The smell of bread baked in butter.
Meat and fish cooking over the fire.
Even the scents of sweet fruit, spices, and warm soup.
It was far richer than the aroma I had caught on the beach earlier.
Without realizing it I gave a tiny twitch of my nose.
One of the attendants who noticed that small movement immediately dashed toward the kitchen.
"The Mother has sensed the fragrance of the food!"
An urgent voice answered from beyond the door.
"We will send out the first dish at once!"
"How long is 'at once'?"
"Please wait just a moment!"
"Do you intend to make the Mother wait?!"
The sounds of plates and pots moving in the kitchen grew even faster.
I felt a little sorry.
I had never once urged them that I wanted to eat, yet the people were more impatient than I was.
When I turned my head to look out the window, I could see the distant sea.
Edward's enormous back floated like an island on the blue surface.
She remained motionless near the harbor, gazing up at the hill where the banquet hall stood.
Countless fish and whales still gathered around her.
I waved toward the window.
Edward, far away, seemed to notice at once and let out a low, long cry.
Wooooooong.
It was a sound large enough to make the window tremble faintly.
The people inside the banquet hall flinched in surprise, then relaxed together when they saw me smiling.
"Prepare some for Edward too."
The moment the words left my mouth, the officials moved in a flurry.
"Gather every fish in the harbor!"
"Bring even what is stored in the warehouses!"
"It must be prepared so that the Divine Beast will be satisfied!"
I blinked.
"There's no need to give her everything."
Several people had already run out of the banquet hall.
It seemed too late to stop them.
I leaned back into the soft cushion and let out a small sigh.
I had only come down to the beach for a walk.
I had taken a nap on a whale's back, stepped on sand, and picked up a few shells.
One comment that something smelled delicious, and now I was sitting in the largest banquet hall in the city waiting for a meal.
Dozens of chefs were bustling in the kitchen, and dozens of attendants and priests lined the walls watching every shift of my expression.
Outside the window the entire harbor was growing noisy as they prepared fish to offer Edward.
I picked up the gleaming silver goblet in front of me and peered inside.
A slice of yellow fruit similar to lemon floated in the clear water.
One sip spread a cold, refreshing taste through my mouth.
"It's good."
Small gasps of admiration rose from various places in the banquet hall along with my words.
The attendant who had prepared the water bowed his head, overcome with emotion, while the scribes moved their quills rapidly.
Even drinking water seemed destined to go down in history now.
...I really feel like I'm living in far too much luxury.
In my previous life I used to compare prices even when choosing a single triangle kimbap at the convenience store after work.
When ordering delivery I would agonize for ages over meeting the minimum order amount, and if I chose an expensive menu I would feel guilty for no reason until the next day.
Now the entire city was moving for a single meal of mine even though I had not even said I wanted to eat.
Even if I had been born a goddess, was it really all right to accept this kind of treatment as natural?
I set the silver goblet down and looked at the people lined up along the walls.
They showed not the slightest sign of fatigue.
Nor did they look as though they were standing there against their will because someone had ordered them to.
They were simply happy to see me sitting comfortably, their eyes sparkling with the hope that I would like something they had prepared.
Seeing that, it was hard to tell them flatly to stop.
To them, serving me itself seemed to be joy.
In that case, rather than forcibly refusing, it might be better to simply eat well for them.
I persuaded myself of that and leaned back comfortably against the cushions.
At that moment the great doors of the banquet hall opened.
Warm steam and a fragrant aroma rushed in together.
Chefs in pure white clothes entered in a line, each carrying a plate covered with a silver lid.
The elderly chef at the front wore a face stiffened by tension.
He approached me, set the plate down, clasped both hands over his chest, and bowed deeply at the waist.
"I present the first dish to the Mother of the Sea."
The silver lid slowly lifted.
Beneath it lay a small fish dish arranged neatly on a clear plate.
The outside was golden-brown, topped with green herbs and thinly sliced fruit.
The scents of butter, the sea, and subtle spices rose all at once.
I started to pick up the spoon, then stopped and looked at the chef.
His face was full of fear and expectation.
The people standing by the walls held their breath, waiting only for me to put the food in my mouth.
The entire banquet hall was far too quiet.
I speared a piece of fish with the small fork and put it in my mouth.
The crisp exterior broke lightly, and warm juices flowed from the soft flesh inside.
After the salty taste came a refreshing fruit aroma and the rich scent of butter.
It was far more delicious than I had expected.
My eyes widened slightly as I took another piece.
"It's delicious."
The moment those words fell, thick tears rolled from the old chef's eyes.
The chefs behind him clasped one another's hands, the priests offered prayers of thanks, and the scribes wrote so fast their quills nearly snapped.
I was a little flustered, but this time I deliberately held my tongue.
If it made people this happy, it would be fine to say it was delicious a few more times.
More than anything, the food really was delicious.
I moved the fork again and took another bite of the fish on the plate.
"This is good too."
Once more the people's faces brightened.
Seeing that, I smiled faintly and leaned more comfortably into the chair.
It was a bit excessive luxury.
But if simply eating delicious food could make someone this happy, there seemed no real need to refuse.
I quietly set the fork down while watching the door through which the second dish would enter.
Still, from now on let's skip the dramatic entrances.
I haven't done anything for this world.
I just created some gods, that's all.