Awkward Mornings and Miraculous Waters
After their first night at the Glowing Blue Lake, Chester—who had slept pressed flush against Monia in their cramped shelter—woke up early in the morning and hurriedly took care of a "man's secret."
"Ugh, damn it," he muttered.
After resolving his secret, Chester did some light exercises to check his physical condition. His right leg, which he normally would have had to baby and protect at all costs, showed remarkable improvement after spending just a single day at the lake.
For starters, the deep, grating sound of bones grinding against each other from deep within his thigh—which usually flared up whenever he overexerted his right leg—was gone. The jarring pain that made it feel as though his leg were being violently torn from his body with every step had also subsided.
Furthermore, his thigh, which had remained swollen even after he squeezed out as much of the dead blood as he could, had shrunk significantly. The deathly, pale complexion of his skin had also brightened considerably. It was an astonishing transformation.
If his thigh, which had been in the worst condition, had improved this much, what about his chest? After all, that wound had merely been a deep laceration of the skin. To put it simply, the wound on his chest had already turned into a scar.
The tender new flesh, still highly sensitive to stimulation, flushed a deep pink as blood pumped through his veins during his workout. Where the wound had once gaped, four distinct pink ridges now remained. Was this truly the same injury that, up until yesterday, had required meticulous care to keep from festering with rotten flesh and pus?
Having assessed his improved condition through light exercise, Chester ran a finger over the reddish scars on his chest. The new skin was so sensitive that even the light rub of his thumb made him worry it might tear open again. Most importantly, aside from these two major injuries, his other minor wounds had vanished without a trace.
He had already caught a glimpse of its potency while healing his shallowest cuts, and he had guessed at its power after seeing how ordinary crops flourished and wounds healed rapidly under its influence. Even so, this was beyond his wildest imagination. If a nation on the great continent were to control such water, they would undoubtedly become the rulers of the world, possessed of boundless crops and an immortal army.
Lost in these thoughts, Chester walked over to the lakeshore to check the water he had scooped into a canteen the day before.
"Hmm, just as I thought."
When he had first scooped it out yesterday, the water had glowed as brilliantly as the lake itself. But checking it now in the morning, it had turned into ordinary, clear water.
'The only reason the crops and I could benefit from its effects back at the shelter was because we ran a channel directly from the waterfall to the house,' he realized.
Scooping water from the lake shouldn't make the "something" mixed inside it vanish, so why did the bottled water lose its glow? He could make a guess based on the Matchlock Lighter. The lighter didn't work with just the crystals alone; a spark could only be generated when a current flowed between the two stones. The lake water was likely the same. It wasn't just about the water and the "something" dissolved in it; there had to be a medium connecting the two to activate the magical properties. And that medium was probably resting at the bottom of this lake.
'That's why the water's potency weakens the further it gets from the lake. Once it's completely severed from the source, it loses its power over time.'
If he could somehow obtain whatever was resting at the bottom of the lake...
'Could we create our own mystical lake right next to our shelter?'
Chester believed it was a distinct possibility.
"Yaaawn."
Just as Chester was lost in thought, a soft yawn drifted from behind him. Startled, he scrambled to pull on the shirt he was holding.
'Damn it! I never used to care about her seeing my bare chest before! Covering up so frantically is only going to make it look like I'm self-conscious!'
Lamenting his own obvious reaction, Chester cautiously glanced back at Monia.
The moment Chester looked at her, Monia gasped, quickly covering her lips with her hand as she averted her gaze. The gesture was a blatant reminder of their kiss. Ever since they had impulsively shared their first kiss yesterday, Monia had been acting like this every time Chester looked her way.
'Ugh!' Monia mentally kicked herself for her instinctive reaction. 'If I keep covering my mouth like this, it'll look like I'm the only one obsessing over the k-k-kiss! I want Chester to be the one flustered by me!'
Monia, currently hiding her blushing face, had no idea, but Chester was indeed very flustered by her behavior. Overcome with embarrassment himself, Chester also covered his mouth and turned away, lost in his own thoughts.
'...'
'...'
The two of them quietly pondered the same thing.
'Will we end up kissing again?'
'Is there a chance we might kiss again?'
On their second morning at the lake, Ant was treated to an exceptionally lavish breakfast compared to his usual fare.
'Just like yesterday! Come on, do your thing!'
'Just like yesterday... Please, just do what you did yesterday!'
Completely oblivious to the sly, adorable schemes of the two young lovers experiencing their first blush of romance, Ant happily devoured his breakfast.
"Is it good?"
"Woof!"
"Got it? I'm counting on you," Monia murmured, gently stroking Ant while Chester set up a new fish trap. Monia had offered to do it, but Chester insisted on handling it himself, pointing out that his body was recovering much faster than expected. He claimed that if he stayed idle, his muscles would grow stiff.
After setting the trap, he began inspecting and repairing the gear that had been damaged during their trek. First on the list was their footwear. For two people traversing such rugged terrain, shoes were practically disposable items. They broke constantly.
Though they desperately wanted to make sturdy shoes and had spent hours brainstorming how to fashion them out of leather, the soles remained the biggest hurdle. If they used wood, as they did now, the soles would inevitably split and break, turning the shoes into temporary fixes. They would have to constantly replace them, which meant designing a shoe where the sole could be easily swapped out—a task far easier said than done.
If they made holes on the sides or bottom to make the soles easy to replace, those areas would wear down during long walks, causing the soles to slip out. What if they secured them from the inside? That posed another problem. To keep the sole firmly in place, the opening had to be tightly bound and secured with cords. But if they placed those knots and cords inside the shoe, the constant friction and pressure against the soles of their feet would eventually tear their skin to shreds.
'Salt is another issue. We used way too much of it trying to cure the leather.'
They had spent months during the hot season diligently harvesting and stockpiling salt, but now that the weather was cooling down, the seawater wasn't evaporating as quickly, putting a halt to their salt production. To make matters worse, they had been rubbing handfuls of salt into the hides to draw out the moisture, leaving their reserves severely depleted.
'I wish we could find some rock salt somewhere. Monia always eats better when her food has at least a little seasoning.'
Alchemists often referred to rock salt as the "bones of the sea." They claimed it was the residue left behind when an ancient sea died—drying up much like a river during a severe drought. Despite that explanation, it was often found deep within mountains, a phenomenon that likely involved complex geological reasons far beyond Chester's understanding. Of course, uncovering the truths of the world was a job for alchemists and scholars, not him, so he had never given it much thought.
'But if rock salt is the bones of the sea, shouldn't a floating island drifting in the ocean have some of it?'
Chester unraveled the cord binding his stone axe, noticing that the blade had begun to wobble back and forth. Inspecting the socket, he saw a hairline fracture in the wood. Although he had wrapped the cord tightly above and below the socket to prevent splitting, tools inevitably wore down with prolonged use. The repeated impact of chopping had slightly loosened the cord, and the handle, deprived of its tight support, had cracked under the strain.
Chester showed the axe to Monia.
"Oh, that's mine, isn't it? I'm sorry. I thought I was taking good care of it."
"Don't worry about it. We've been busy traveling, so it was bound to happen."
Chester reached out to pat her reassuringly, but suddenly felt self-conscious and froze mid-gesture. Watching his hand slowly drop, Monia felt a sudden pang of loneliness and instinctively stepped closer to him.
"!"
He wasn't sure why he was reacting this way; it wasn't as if Monia had never stood close to him before. Chester watched her approach with tense eyes before steeling his resolve and scooting over slightly to make room.
"Ah."
As Chester's shoulder lightly bumped against hers, Monia looked up in surprise. Then, a soft, tender smile spread across her face, and she gently leaned her head against his shoulder.
"..."
"..."
In comfortable silence, the two of them continued to inspect their tools. And throughout the entire process, neither of them pulled away.