09. A Lonely Orphan is Just What I Need (2)

"Why are you here? Where's Alber?"

"Well..."

It was so absurd I couldn't even keep my disguise on and just blurted out the question.

Sure enough, Silbi was hemming and hawing. Her lips parted like she was about to speak, but... no.

No, Grid! You can't think that way about family!

"Come in first. Can't just leave you standing out here."

I opened the door wider and reached out to take her bag.

She only had one small bag—probably just some clothes inside.

But Silbi lightly ignored my hand and slipped into the shop.

She was glancing around warily, like a kitten in a strange place.

If you're gonna act like that, why come at all? No one's gonna eat you.

"Sit down for now. I'll get you something."

"..."

I guided the still-gawking Silbi to the customer chair and headed to the storeroom to prepare a snack.

Once something hits the stomach, the wariness drops. Basic rule.

What do kids that age even like?

No clue. I'd have to raise one to know. If I went with what I liked at that age... pizza? Burgers? Didn't really do desserts.

Rice cakes or bread? Meh. Fine.

I opened the skill window and expanded the categories.

A few clicks later, appetizing pudding sat on a disposable plate.

"So convenient."

The skill leveled up after wrapping things up with Leperi. Satisfaction really is king.

Level 3 expanded the item list, but the new features? Chef's kiss.

Now I could choose packaging on purchase, plus unlimited trash bin.

All that modern packaging had been a nightmare before.

Just days ago, floors 1 through 3 of the storeroom were crammed with bulgogi seasoning bottles. All cleaned up now.

Purchases could come unpackaged or in this-world containers. No more hassle.

Used to fill 20 oak barrels with seasoning daily by hand. Now? Straight into the barrels, done.

"I'll go grill now. Wait here."

I grabbed two plates of pudding and emerged from the storeroom.

Silbi still perched on the chair, scanning everywhere. What gives?

"Eat this and relax a bit."

I slid a plate her way and scooped my own into my mouth with a spoon.

Caramel's sweet hit, wobbly texture, rich vanilla. Perfection.

Silbi took her plate, hesitated—then, seeing me devour mine without a glance, finally picked up her spoon.

She eyed it carefully, cut a tiny piece, loaded it up.

Sniffed before tasting. Pupils dilated.

Cautious first bite.

"!!!"

Eyes widened like she couldn't believe her tongue. Another bite. And another.

Sweet stuff reigns supreme. No wonder it's called danger—pure dopamine.

I reached for my spoon to finish mine, but Silbi—who'd already polished hers off—stared holes into it.

Do women in this world have a passive for speed-eating?

"...Want some?"

Nod.

"Here. That's all I got left—sorry, no refills."

Luckily, I'd cut a bit with a spoon before tasting, so I handed it over no problem.

She snatched it and shoveled it down. Bite after bite.

As the last spoonfuls dwindled, she savored them tiny-bit by tiny bit. Adorable...

Now I get why kids come back from grandparents' bloated. Who wouldn't wanna feed that face?

Warm thoughts aside, one question loomed larger.

Why wasn't Alber here?

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Since Silbi showed, they probably hadn't blabbed to the director.

Clink.

"Hoo..."

Silbi's face mixed bliss and regret.

Fresh, youthful expression. Finally acting her age.

"Liked the snack, huh?"

Nod.

Use words, girl.

"Alright, spill the details. Why you instead of Alber?"

Nod.

She nodded, gaze drifting up—probably organizing her thoughts.

Moments later, lips parted.

"Alber was coming until yesterday."

Should've been today too.

"But I said I wanted to go, so I did."

Huh?

"What? Explain properly."

"I told Alber about Academy classes. He yielded to me."

"What the..."

Realizing her summary sucked, Silbi elaborated.

From faculty systems to curricula—stuff pouring from an orphanage kid's mouth like she'd studied it.

Academy doesn't mess around. They awaken top talents properly, not haphazardly.

That's why I planned to ignore grades, just grab the diploma.

But Silbi... how do you know all this?

"Even if that's 100% true, there's a problem."

"What?"

"You said no interest in adoption."

"Changed my mind."

"Why?"

"You said no messing with the promise."

Dead-serious eyes locked on mine.

"Fine. Where'd you get the Academy info?"

"From adopted siblings visiting."

"And you'll still come here to attend?"

"Gotta leave at 19 anyway. This just opened up."

Right. Orphans must leave at 19 voluntarily.

So Silbi picked me—decent terms—for her inevitable exit?

Nah, still weird. She'd have shown interest earlier if so.

Catching my doubt, Silbi sighed and pulled a paper from her pocket.

"What's this?"

"Contract."

"Original adoption contract's at the orphanage."

"This is between you and me."

I took the contract and read it over.

In summary...

Surprisingly simple. Do as told, no prying. Not bad...

Hm?

Bottom line, where margins should be.

Fresh ink: Periodic snack provisions.

Aha. You're a kid after all.

"No issues. This snack clause seems easy too."

"..."

She barely held poker face, ears beet red.

A few more questions got nothing substantial.

On the way to the inn. Iris was coming too, but no need to hide now, so we headed early together.

Magic pouch, she called it.

These hold dozens of times their volume, weight be damned. Basic here—if you can afford 'em.

Who'd question a merchant from the dorms lacking one?

Skipped the 4th floor living space to save cash. Now Silbi's lodging's iffy.

Didn't expect adoption back then. Idiot move—it's your alibi.

Anyway, inn till term starts.

"If anyone asks about dorm life?"

"Oppa was too busy—barely saw each other."

"Why enroll at Academy?"

"Wanted magic and friends."

"Good. Unknown questions? Dodge and tell me later."

"Yeah."

"Atta girl."

Quick sibling crash course en route.

No one knows my past, so stories align easy.

Grid roamed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠young, siblings distant. Don't know each other well.

Recent stuff? I just got here.

That's why orphanage rush worked. No fact-checks. Heavy-mouthed sibling seals it.

Silbi beats Alber there.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Yeah, that miracle mouth—only essentials, no leaks.

Family. Dropped solo in rofan world two months shy.

Only comfy chats: inn manager, Iris.

I glanced at Silbi beside me.

Full support till graduation.

Purpose-bound, but genuine care—like spy family cartoons.

Told manager yesterday: twin beds in room.

Alber or not, sleep there's anyway.

Strode in casual—manager's glare off.

"Welcome, Grid-nim... This isn't the sibling you mentioned..."

Oh crap! Sibling gender-swapped!

Assumed Alber so hard, butterfly effect. Name unspoken saved us.

"Ah, thought so too, but little bro's taking family business. Little sis came."

"Eh? Didn't you say your little sister was enrolling this year when asking about Academy?"

Sylvia swooped from window-cleaning, dropping bombs.

Did I...? Yeah...

'My little sister starts Academy this year. Commoner, worried about nobles.'

Early days, info-hunting via Sylvia. Damn, paid her well—still backstab!

Why specify sister? ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Hated boys?

First real snag. How to fix?

One-sided contradiction fixable, but mismatched stories to both...

Tongue-tied, mental meltdown incoming—

"The ones starting Academy were me and William."

Silbi ad-libbed.

"William went to oppa's side first, I later—but he bailed, so I came early."

William who? New relative spawning live. 18 for real?

Stone-faced, fluid delivery.

Manager's suspicion eased.

"Hm... So little bro was first, but snags meant sis comes pre-term."

"Yes. Only learned today when Silbi arrived."

True story. I got played too.

"Understood. Bed's twin now. Separate room if available?"

"Bulgogi packs us daily—possible?"

"Cancellations happen. Need your intent to prep."

"Please. Dorm after term—till then."

"Got it. Dinner as usual soon?"

"Yes, please."

Left sauce in kitchen, headed up with Silbi.

*

"Sylvia."

"Yes, Manager-nim?"

"Don't say a word to Iris-nim later."

"Pardon? Ah... yes."

Here's hoping the 2nd-floor guest stays drama-free.