Chapter 24
Chapter 24
Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 24
Chapter Title: Row's First Cooking (1)
Sunlight filtered through the cracks in the window.
Tiny dust particles caught the light and sparkled.
"...Mm."
His eyelids trembled.
He slowly opened one eye.
The bonfire that had burned all night had died down to a pile of ashes.
'That's strange...'
Even though the fireplace had gone out,
the cabin was still warm inside.
"Huh...?"
Something warm stirred in his arms.
He slowly lowered his head,
and there was the girl, nestled against him, sleeping soundly.
'Has she been like this the whole time?'
A faint smile tugged at his lips as he observed her.
Her small, curled-up body,
her slightly tousled hair.
Her face was buried against his chest,
her lips slightly parted as she breathed evenly.
He gently stroked her messy hair.
"...Sleep well."
Still lying down, he turned his head to survey the surroundings.
The rabbit sleeping next to the blanket,
the traces of treating the girl's leg,
the bag of bread he'd meant to feed her but left untouched.
And—
the piles of luggage stacked by the door.
"...Sigh."
Why was that?
He felt suddenly exhausted upon waking.
'Guess I have to deal with it today.'
As he slowly tried to sit up,
the girl's hand groped the air before clutching tightly at his clothes.
She must have sensed the warmth beside her disappearing.
"......"
"Mm..."
He paused his slow rise.
Carefully prying her hand away,
but the moment he did, she frowned slightly and grabbed hold again.
Her small, delicate fingers
clenched his clothes even tighter, as if determined never to let go.
He gazed down at her quietly.
"Doesn't seem like she's awake."
"......"
He poked her cheek.
She frowned and wriggled closer to him.
Her breathing remained slow,
her eyelids tightly shut,
yet her stubborn refusal to let go seemed wide awake.
A soft, amused chuckle escaped him.
"I'll be gone just a moment. Need to make breakfast and sort the luggage."
"......"
Whispering in her ear,
her grip loosened ever so slightly.
He slowly sat up,
then quietly tidied around her without waking her.
He pulled the blanket over her,
and added more wood to the fireplace.
Warmth soon filled the air again.
Carefully opening the door without a sound, he stepped outside.
The late autumn forest dawn air was slightly chilly.
After a quick wash with cold water
and straightening his clothes, he quietly reentered.
Worried the door might wake her, but fortunately, she was still fast asleep.
Her slow breaths came rhythmically,
and the blanket had slipped slightly off her body.
He approached quietly and gently pulled the blanket back over her.
"Breakfast before unpacking, I suppose..."
From the haphazard pile of luggage stacked last night,
he pulled out the bags of foodstuffs one by one.
"Utensils... bowls... cutting board... what else...?"
Racking his brain, he remembered Mr. Hubert's note.
Recalling it had been tucked into the cookbook, he rummaged through the piles.
"Ah, found it."
As he opened the cookbook, the note fluttered out.
Written in neat, large, easy-to-read letters anyone could understand were the words:
[Notes for Making Vegetable Stew]
The memory of yesterday brought a small smile.
Before returning to the cabin,
while packing up the luggage, Mr. Hubert had called out to him.
"For breakfast, just make what I've noted down. Got the ingredients ready, after all."
"Huh? Oh, sure."
"...You seem unreliable. Come here a sec."
He stopped sorting and went over to Mr. Hubert.
"Do you know what pancakes are?"
"No clue."
"How about soup?"
"Uh..."
"...Never mind."
Mr. Hubert let out a deflated laugh and rummaged through the luggage.
Then he pulled out a cookbook and showed it to him alongside the note.
"Here, look."
"Huh?"
"This is a pancake. Easy even for beginners."
"......Ugh, this."
The illustration in the book brought it back instantly.
The hideous yellow disc.
Unnecessarily sweet, mushy, and sticky...
The most disgusting, tasteless human food he'd ever eaten.
His brow furrowed deeply.
Might as well chew rocks.
At least they weren't sweet.
With a sigh, he alternated glances between the cookbook and Mr. Hubert.
"...You want me to make this?"
"That's the plan."
"...Why this of all things?"
"Kids love it."
Mr. Hubert added it as if stating the obvious.
"Sweet, soft, and warm. Kids can't resist."
"......Ugh."
He looked back at the picture.
Syrup oozed stickily over the mushy yellow disc.
And on top—
a generous heap of that white, fluffy horror.
He involuntarily turned his head away.
"...No thanks."
"Heh, you really hate pancakes, huh."
Mr. Hubert chuckled as if amused.
Then he began flipping through the cookbook.
"First time and all, no need to make something you hate."
"Really?"
"Well, you'll have to make it someday if the kid likes it."
He listened silently to the rustle of turning pages.
Mr. Hubert, leisurely flipping through, continued slowly.
"Still, for the first time, something you can eat together would be best."
"Why?"
"Memories last longer when you eat and smile together."
Memories.
Memories, huh.
"...Won't that just complicate things more?"
He muttered softly, staring at the cookbook.
Then,
one illustration caught his eye.
"That one."
"...Hm?"
Mr. Hubert paused.
Brown liquid in a white bowl.
Colorful chunks submerged within.
Steam rising from the bowl, green herbs floating on the surface.
"That's stew, right?"
"It is."
"That one's edible."
"Heh, was it?"
Mr. Hubert laughed heartily.
His hand stopped turning pages, and his gaze slowly turned to him.
"Then breakfast tomorrow is this."
"Sure."
"Takes a while to simmer, so you'll need to be diligent."
"I'll try."
He nodded, scrutinizing the page carefully.
Not sweet,
and warm.
Seemed like a good choice for the girl,
and for him too.
"...Not rabbit meat, though."
"Hm?"
"Can I skip the meat?"
Mr. Hubert raised an eyebrow slightly.
"Why?"
"The girl hates meat."
"Hmm... I see."
Mr. Hubert stroked his beard thoughtfully.
Then he pulled out a notepad and pen.
"Make it vegetable stew instead, then. I'll write it down."
"Thanks."
"But... even if she hates it, you should get her eating a little meat gradually."
"Why?"
Mr. Hubert cleared his throat as if organizing his thoughts.
Finished thinking, he set the pen on the notepad and looked at him.
"That girl's still growing."
"Yeah."
"Protein is essential at that age. Meat is a must."
"...Got it."
He nodded slightly.
He understood, but something still nagged at him.
Reading his expression, perhaps,
Mr. Hubert tucked the note into the cookbook and said,
"Of course, you shouldn't force what she hates..."
"......?"
"But helping her learn to like it is one of the kindest things an adult can do."
"...Kindest thing."
Difficult.
Unfamiliar words.
But it was his job.
"...I'll give it a shot."
"That's enough."
Mr. Hubert nodded and handed over the cookbook.
"Cooking for the first time, right?"
"Yeah."
"Don't overthink it. Just follow the book."
He glanced at the luggage pile,
then pointed to one market bag.
"You bought measuring tools too, right?"
"Measuring tools? Oh, those things with all the different sizes for no reason..."
"Guess I need to explain those first."
"...Please do."
And so he received Mr. Hubert's explanations.
How to use measuring tools,
other kitchen utensils,
which ingredients were needed and how to prepare them.
Chuckling, he folded the note.
It had felt daunting before the explanations,
but now he clearly understood.
Cooking
and potion-making were a hair's breadth apart.
Measure ingredients precisely,
add them in order,
time it,
control the heat,
and finish with extras.
Just like alchemy.
"Yeah. Might be doable if I think of it that way."
A familiar process.
Creating something from nothing.
The one thing he could claim some confidence in.
He unpacked the ingredients from the bag.
Potatoes, carrots, onions, garlic, butter...
The names Mr. Hubert had taught him one by one yesterday.
Clumsy as he was, he wanted to do it right since he was at it.
Carefully opening the cookbook, he began scrutinizing the first page.
"Let's see... carrots in 3cm pieces..."
Need the knife first.
He sat back down by the luggage pile and diligently searched for the knife.
Precise measurement and cutting.
A principle that must be followed for perfect results.