Chapter 30
Chapter 30
Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 30
Chapter Title: What the Child Needs (1)
It was the morning of the day we had decided to go to the village.
I woke up a little earlier than usual.
The child was still nestled in my arms, sleeping soundly.
The hand clutching me tightly hadn't let go even once through the night.
It was amazing every time I saw it.
"Aren't you uncomfortable?"
"......"
It was a daily occurrence.
Whenever I tried to pry her hand away, the child would wake up right away,
and burrow even deeper into my arms, gripping my clothes tighter.
At first,
I sometimes woke her up in the process,
but now I'd mastered how to detach without disturbing her.
I gently covered her hand with mine.
"......!"
"Yeah. I'm right here."
If I patted the back of her hand to relax her grip,
the child would slip back into sleep while holding my finger.
Seizing that moment,
I quietly sat up and handed her the robe I'd placed nearby—
and she hugged it tight, continuing her sleep as if nothing had happened.
So every morning began
with carefully extracting my hand.
After getting up and washing simply,
I heated water for the child to wash with,
and when I returned to the cabin with a kettle of warm water.
The rabbit, who had woken before the child, stretched lazily.
It seemed to have firmly learned that I was the one who fed it.
As soon as I entered, it approached as if waiting, staring up at me intently.
'They look alike.'
Was it because it played with the child every day?
The way it stared while waiting was exactly the same.
"Eat."
I filled the yellow food bowl the child had chosen
with dried hay and offered it.
Only then did the rabbit glance up at me once more before cautiously approaching.
It twitched its nose a few times,
and only after confirming the familiar scent did it touch the food.
"Even the cautiousness is alike."
A chuckle escaped me.
From the way it eyed things bit by bit
or never lunged all at once.
This behavior was similar to the wary child.
"Still, thanks for playing with her so well."
I patted the rabbit's back.
Soft fur brushed my fingertips, and its small body twitched slightly.
But it didn't run away.
It just kept its head down, munching the hay diligently.
"You were a hassle at first...."
But not anymore.
Always by the child's side,
playing with her when I was busy.
It was a better companion than expected.
"Time for breakfast soon...."
After changing clothes, I headed to the kitchen.
I checked the cookbook and Mr. Hubert's notes, pondering what to make for breakfast today.
"Hmm.... We did that the day before yesterday...."
My hand flipping through the cookbook paused.
Pancakes.
A food I hated.
But the child liked them.
"Kids love them."
"Sweet, soft, and warm. It's the kind of food kids can't resist."
Mr. Hubert's words were true.
I'd tried making them just in case,
and the child smiled brightly with whipped cream smeared on her mouth.
She even clung to the plate with only whipped cream left,
rarely begging for more.
But....
The child seemed to have noticed that I hated pancakes.
After that, even when she wanted some,
she only glanced at the ingredients, never asking first.
Every time I saw that—
"Whether I hate it or not has nothing to do with you."
I muttered like to myself as I pulled out the ingredients.
I didn't want to deprive the child of something she liked just because I hated it.
I had my own compromise.
The child ate pancakes,
and I ate jewels or other simple foods.
But
if we ate like that, the child would stop midway and stare at me blankly.
"Why?"
"......"
When I asked—
the child, as if waiting,
would let go of her pancake and try to mimic what I was eating.
If it was food, that was fine,
but sometimes it was jewels.
One day, she reached for a gem I'd set out to eat,
picked up a piece with her small hand, and popped it straight into her mouth.
"...Huh?"
"......"
Fortunately, she didn't swallow it.
Instead,
she couldn't chew it,
just placed it on her tongue.
She whimpered in distress, not knowing what to do.
"......!"
"Mm...."
With the gem on her tongue,
she fidgeted restlessly, looking up at me,
and soon scrunched her face, tears welling up.
When I carefully removed the gem, she pouted her lower lip.
"Humans can't eat jewels right now."
"......"
Her little mouth twitched regretfully.
I could see her disappointment in her eyes, but she soon nodded obediently.
After that day,
she never touched jewels again.
But even after that,
whenever I ate something, she would mimic me at least once.
"Pancakes.... Not today."
When I told Lauren, the clothing shop clerk,
she said she'd give me a recipe for unsweetened pancakes next time I came.
She'd probably tell me today.
"In that case, today...."
After some thought, I decided on sandwiches.
We still had sliced bread left, and the vegetables I'd bought were fresh.
"I'll make extra to bring to Lauren and Mr. Hubert too."
The first time I cooked,
I'd soon visited the village with sandwiches in hand.
Mr. Hubert marveled at the ones I made.
"Heh, impressive workmanship. Cutting them so neatly, like measured with a ruler."
"I did."
"...Hm?"
"I measured the length with a ruler and cut them."
Mr. Hubert looked at me and burst into laughter.
"Heh, just like you."
"What am I like?"
"You'd know better than me. Hahaha!"
It was a cryptic remark.
Wiping tears of laughter, Mr. Hubert continued.
"Cooking doesn't need to be that precise."
"...Really?"
"Yes. The sizes in cookbooks are just for easy eating and even cooking."
"I see...."
That was when
I realized cooking was a bit different from alchemy.
Mr. Hubert smiled kindly and patted my shoulder.
"But it feels full of your signature care."
"...My signature care?"
I quietly repeated the words.
I'd just wanted to make them exactly right since it was my first time,
but it was strange that it came across as 'care' to someone.
Mr. Hubert took a bite of the sandwich.
It felt odd.
I was especially even-tempered among dragons,
rarely feeling tension.
But then,
I'd been a little nervous.
His chewing slowed to a stop.
Mr. Hubert nodded with a bright expression.
"Hm, seasoning's just right, vegetables fresh. Delicious."
"Really? Good."
"With basics like this, you'll handle variations in no time."
"Variations?"
Mr. Hubert smiled leisurely.
His face was playful yet somehow serious.
"Do you know what's most important in cooking?"
"No."
"Heh! It's thinking of the person eating it."
Mr. Hubert took another bite and continued.
"Prioritize what they like, what flavors make them happy."
"...Sounds hard."
"No need to overthink."
Mr. Hubert examined the sandwich I'd made.
Ham, tomato, lettuce, thinly sliced cucumber, and bright yellow cheese.
He chuckled and nodded.
"The child doesn't like meat, right?"
"Yeah."
"Then you could consider omitting the ham for her sake. Different from the recipe, but."
Mr. Hubert pondered then smiled and added.
"Remember when I said kids need protein to grow?"
"Yeah."
"For her, swap ham for eggs. Or mince the ham finely and mix it in unnoticed."
Mr. Hubert chewed slowly on another bite.
Watching him, I thought seriously.
"......Is ham meat?"
"...You're so consistent."
Mr. Hubert shook his head with a chuckle.
"Anyway, that's cooking. Recipes can be adjusted freely for the eater."
"...I see."
"No need to blindly follow recipes. They're just references, even if guidelines at first."
Mr. Hubert looked at me warmly and continued.
"What really matters is who you're cooking for and the heart behind it."
"...Yeah."
Those words
helped more than the cookbook.
Thanks to it, my cooking time shortened dramatically.
Flavors the child likes.
Sizes easy for her to eat.
Nutrients for her growth.
Based on that, any dish came together quickly.
"Let's see...."
Not just our breakfast,
but enough for Mr. Hubert and Lauren too, so I needed to be busier.
I took out the sliced bread,
prepped the eggs and vegetables for filling.
Washed and drained the lettuce ahead,
sliced tomatoes and cucumbers thin,
beat eggs yolks and whites moderately and fried them.
A nutty aroma filled the cabin.
"......Mm...."
At that moment,
I heard slow stirring from behind.
The rustle of blankets.
A familiar breath.
The child was waking.
Turning, I saw her rubbing her eyes, looking my way.
"Awake?"
"......"
The child nodded slowly.
Her hair was tousled,
her face marked clearly with imprints from the robe's decorations.
A chuckle escaped.
"Wait a bit. It'll be done soon."
"......"
The child slowly rose from her spot.
Or rather,
tried to.
I watched quietly.
She managed up to her knees.
As always, one leg dragged, and she plopped down.
Her brows drooped.
Her lips quivered.
"Yeah. You got up a little higher today."
"!"
"Good job."
Her small fists clenched then slowly relaxed.
Her shoulders shook slightly, then a bright smile bloomed.
"Wait a bit. It'll be done soon."
"......"
While I cooked,
the child would repeat her rising practice.
She'd been doing it lately.
No longer content with crawling,
she wriggled her legs daily to advance even one step.
'Today.... I should look into ways she can walk too.'
Amid rustling blankets
and occasional thuds of falling,
I finished the sandwiches.
"All done."
"!"
"Yeah. I'll pick you up."
I lifted her to the table chair.
Slightly warmed milk,
half a sandwich,
and her favorite fruit on the side.
"!!!"
"Tasty?"
"......!"
The child beamed.
Her little head nodded repeatedly.
Jam already smeared her mouth.
I wiped it gently with a handkerchief and took a bite of sandwich.
"Yeah. Tasty."
"......!"
This morning routine was familiar now.