Even a Document Would Suffice
"What on earth are you talking about?"
Luke reeled at Daiton's claim.
Having never imagined that "guardian" meant that kind of guardian, the shock hit him all the harder.
He'd said there were procedures involved, so I just went along with it…
Daiton bowed his head and spoke again.
"I know it's shameful, but isn't there any way?"
"Talk sense. In the first place, that's something for Yerna to decide—not something that gets settled just because I put in a word."
That was the plain truth. To begin with, Luke had nothing useful to "put in a word" about.
"So don't go making reckless suggestions. Tell me first—why would you even think of something like that?"
Even if it was only on paper, Luke could never consider it proper for a couple to bind themselves that way. Guessing Daiton must have had some reason for such an extreme choice, Luke asked to hear the circumstances from the man himself.
"Haa… Fine."
Daiton let out a long sigh and began.
"So, the thing is… I started liking her about a year ago…"
"I see. So that's how it was."
Having heard the full story, Luke nodded.
Daiton's gift for words left something to be desired, and the explanation had been rather jumbled, but the gist of it was this.
Daiton had been nursing a one-sided love for Yerna for a full year, and in truth he had been watching for a chance to confess any number of times. But as a thoroughly inexperienced bachelor, he was clumsy at declaring his feelings to anyone, and expressing what was in his heart was never as simple as it sounded—so a whole year had slipped by in dithering.
Of course, it wasn't as though he had done nothing in that time. He had met Yerna privately on several occasions, but every single time, embarrassment and circumstance conspired to snatch the chance away. He had repeated that pattern for an entire year.
By this point, Daiton had hoped she might at least notice—or, failing that, turn him down gently so he could give up cleanly. But Yerna felt nothing at all toward him yet. She neither disliked him nor liked him. If one had to put a name to it, they were simply… comfortable with each other.
A year was a fairly long stretch by human standards, but from an elf's perspective it was quite short, and Yerna—still a young elf—had never even considered romance with a human man to begin with. That only made her all the more oblivious to Daiton's feelings.
The one consolation he had clung to was that she still showed no sign of wanting a spouse… until the news that, under Luke's influence, she was now urgently searching for one sent him rushing over in a panic.
Laid out like that, Daiton's state of mind was not entirely beyond understanding—and yet.
Luke let out a deep, weary sigh.
"Even so, 'even on paper would be fine' was far too reckless. Reflect on that."
At the scolding tone, Daiton hunched his shoulders and answered in a posture of genuine contrition.
"Ah—yeah, you're right. Sorry. I wasn't in my right mind earlier."
Still on his knees, he bowed his head deeply once more.
"Anyway, that's how desperate I was."
"Well. I suppose so."
When the woman you had pined after for a year suddenly started looking for a husband, it would have been hard not to lose your head.
"So don't come asking me. Tell her your feelings yourself. If speaking them aloud is too hard, a letter is a perfectly good method."
Daiton spoke as though steeling himself.
"Got it. A letter, huh… I've never tried that. But I'm no good with words on paper…"
"Then bring it to me. I'll at least look it over for you."
"I appreciate that."
Even as he said it, Daiton privately doubted his writing was so poor that a ten-year-old girl would need to proofread it. How things would turn out was anyone's guess—but already his mind was racing ahead to a successful confession and a cozy little household, and from there his thoughts drifted inevitably to Luke.
After all, the whole reason Yerna was looking for a husband was Luke, wasn't it? Which meant Luke would necessarily become his daughter.
He found himself wondering what Luke thought of him.
"Luke. If I ended up being your dad, how would you feel about that?"
Luke answered without a second's consideration.
"I would find that thoroughly repulsive."
"Hey."
The voice was pure betrayal.
Luke waved a hand as if to say not to worry.
"But I swear I won't stand in your way. The decision isn't mine—it's Yerna's."
"That so…?"
It was a remarkably mature answer. Daiton, if anything, began to feel uneasy himself.
But could I actually handle Luke?
Honestly, he had no confidence on that score.
Soon Daiton excused himself, declaring he was going to write a love letter, and Luke was left with the desolate feeling of a landscape after a storm had passed. In more ways than one, Daiton was a man who arrived like a tempest.
"Hoo…"
Luke let out a quiet breath—a mixture of relief and unease, two contradictory feelings tangled together. He had spoken lightly enough in front of Daiton, but inwardly the conversation had been startling and deeply unsettling.
"Yerna's marriage, is it…"
Whether she accepted Daiton or not was her decision to make, so setting that aside—the real problem was the simple fact that Yerna would have to marry at all. He had never seen it coming.
And so "guardian" had meant that, had it? Well, even for an orphan, handing a child off to just anyone would hardly be different from slavery. He ought to have assumed from the start that protecting a young child meant adoption—but he had wrongly supposed that a society five thousand years on might have some other method.
At this rate, it was his own fault that she had been forced into thinking about marriage out of nowhere.
I truly have no face left to show Yerna.
Marriage, of all things. Of course, if the temporary guardianship period could simply be extended, nothing could be better—but…
The odds of that are low.
Luke knew nothing about the temporary guardianship system, but the moment something carried the word "temporary" in its name, an ending was inevitable.
"My head aches…"
If only he could become independent sooner, he wouldn't have to wrestle with such headaches at all.
A little time passed, and Luke grew hungry. He was just rising to dig into one of the canned goods he had brought when—
"Luke, have you eaten yet?"
The timing was almost miraculous. Luke privately conceded that this, too, was a kind of talent, and answered.
"Ah, Daiton. I have canned food I brought with me, so don't trouble yourself."
"Canned food?"
Daiton tilted his head, then frowned at the can of tuna in Luke's hand.
"You're just eating that raw?"
"Is there a problem? I find it perfectly tasty."
"You little—no wonder they call you a cat beastkin. Your tastes are something else. Come here."
With an air of having no choice, Daiton hauled Luke outside. Sensing no ill intent, Luke went along half in a daze—and then stopped short in surprise.
Skewers lay arranged on a folding table. Ordinary skewers would have been common enough, but the aggressive, unidentifiable fragrance rising from them was anything but.
"What in the world is this?"
"Ahem. I put a little of my skill on display."
Daiton puffed out his chest with pride. He had cooked this?
Honestly, since waking in this body, Luke had never once put a grilled dish in his mouth. The biggest reason was that Yerna simply didn't know how to cook with fire; the second was that the peculiar flavor of canned tuna had already been more than satisfying enough. So when he found himself staring at skewers of meat still steaming hot, his salivary glands went to work of their own accord—if he let his concentration slip for even a moment, he was certain drool would spill from his lips.
Gulp.
"I truly had no idea you possessed such a talent…"
"Surprised it doesn't fit the image? Haha! Come on, eat before it gets cold."
"V-very well. I shall partake."
With hands trembling almost from nerves, Luke reached for a skewer whose surface had been roasted to a beautiful, glossy brown, and thought: it looked like a work of art. But the purpose of food was to be eaten.
At last he sat and carefully took hold of the skewer. The already aggressive sweetness of the aroma drove itself straight up his nose.
What spice is this supposed to be?
He could say with certainty that even in his former life of abundance five thousand years ago, he had never smelled anything like it. If the fragrance alone was this stimulating, what would it be like once he put it in his mouth and chewed?
A tense moment—
Daiton opened his mouth as if he found the whole thing hilarious.
"It's just one skewer. Why are you shaking like that?"
"Ah—forgive me. I was a little nervous."
"Who gets nervous over a meal? You sure live an exhausting life."
Daiton shrugged and grinned. Luke thought, well, he had a point.
Why am I this tense over a single skewer? I've had meals like this plenty of times before…
Luke squeezed his eyes shut and took a bite.
With a crisp crackle, the well-roasted outer crust shattered between his teeth. Then the hot juices sealed inside burst forth as if he had bitten into fruit, flooding his tongue. That alone would have been satisfying—but the perfectly balanced interplay of salty and sweet left him genuinely moved.
It was the first time a dish had ever moved him.
To Luke, cooking had always been nothing more than a meal for survival. In his era, spices had mostly meant salt and sugar—and even those had been so expensive they were treated as luxuries. Commoners' food had been bland to a fault; nobles' food had been buried under spices until it was aggressively overstimulating. So the first time this man from that age tasted spices thoroughly calculated by human magical technology—spices designed to taste good—even a simple grilled skewer was bound to be astonishingly fine.
"…Ah."
Without even registering how his mouth had moved, he swallowed the piece of meat in an instant.
It brings back old memories…
It was good enough to call up faces he had long since buried in the past. He remembered the street-stall skewers Renier and Kale had once forced into his mouth. This one was so far superior that the flavors barely resembled each other—but the sheer excellence of the skewer was enough to summon the two of them all the same.
If only I could share this taste with them…
They would have loved it. Without a doubt.
And then tears spilled from the corners of Luke's eyes—tears of pure emotion.
"Wh-what? Why are you crying all of a sudden?"
Daiton could only fidget helplessly at the child who had started weeping out of nowhere. But Luke quickly wiped the tears away, smiled at him, and said:
"It is truly, truly magnificent!"
"I-it can't be that good, can it?"
Suddenly bashful, Daiton scratched the back of his head and avoided Luke's gaze.
"It can. This is a first for me. Thank you—truly—for cooking something like this."
Daiton froze at those words.
What? I just brushed supermarket sauce on some skewers… and this is the first time they've ever had something like this? Where the hell did this kid grow up?
"Well… if you say so. Eat plenty. If it's not enough, I'll make more."
"Truly? Thank you—thank you! Then may I trouble you for a few more?!"
"Yeah, as you wish…"
Daiton turned on his heel and fled the spot as if escaping. Was it really all right to be this happy over mere skewers? The radiant smile on that little girl's face made something in his chest twinge.
Out of Luke's sight, Daiton planted his forehead against a tree and thought.
Thud.
What the hell have I been doing to a kid like this…
Today, more than usual, he found himself thoroughly ashamed.
"Right. Let's just grill more skewers…"
To think the child had lived without ever tasting even something this ordinary. To think that little one had lived that hard!
Daiton was a Forest Keeper, and his sense of justice, at least, ran deeper than most men's.
Damn it. In the end, it's always the rotten adults who are the problem…
Having heard the rough outline of Luke's story from Yerna, he ground his teeth and resolved that, at the very least, he would make sure the child ate until full today.
That day, Luke ate grilled skewers until his stomach was round and tight.