Tale Of An Edible Girl Chapter 3

The sixth month in the year 487 in the monarchy calendar. Today was Aisa's 15th birthday.

Just like every year, we held a party that I catered.

Shark fries and family nabe, a soup made from boiled roe and a miso seasoning along with boiled vegetables and tofu. Stewed red dendel tongue, featherfin catfish tempura, parboiled peac.o.c.k breast meat, and finally, a quiche of sand rats, crows, and a few greens.
I made everything out of ingredients that were sold in the capital market, but applied recipes and skills I knew from Earth. Most were new recipes I didn't even reveal in our sampling meeting.
Both Aisa, the main guest, and Isela seemed to be satisfied with the taste. Although, for the first time, Aisa was focused on something other than my food.

“Your sweets look so beautiful, Isela!”

After the banquet, Aisa's sparkling gaze shot to the dessert plate presented with tea like a bird eyeing its prey. Isela took charge of making the sweets this year, as well.
Her first sweets last year were yudia bean cakes. Ever since Aisa was delighted by what she made, Isela began putting more effort into baking by having the royal pâtissier teach her in-depth, and by reading cookbooks that were impossible for me to understand at that time.
This year she made a special cake not mentioned in any recipe book. To my surprise, one of her own creation. The cake had three layers, frosted with a two-color frosting and decorated with a confectionery flower. The first layer was a soft mousse. The second, a tender, yet elastic sponge layer. And the third was filled with cookies and other crunchy sweets. Each layer had a particular taste, and together, they tasted harmonic.
The frosting was a bittersweet citrus fruit and a tea leaf extract that matched well with any type of cake. All these six flavors went through my throat, leaving behind a pleasant floral fragrance in my mouth.

“My you've improved, Isela.”
“Thank you. It's all because I have a good ‘teacher'.”

At some point in the past year, Isela started casually smiling at me. I've been teaching her a few cooking techniques every now and then as her "teacher," but at this rate she'll probably surpa.s.s me in the confectionary field within the next year.

“…Next year.”
“Kay?”

I stopped moving my hand when I asked myself, will Aisa be able to have her 16th birthday party? Aisa's 15 now, and the maximum age for a sakla to ripen is 16. It wouldn't be strange if she were to ripen even tomorrow.

It's been a year and a half since I discovered the secret of the sakla, and yet, I was still pitifully hesitating, unable to make a decision.

***

I never stopped pondering that question, even when was.h.i.+ng the dishes at the party. I never spent a day in the past year and a half without having the same thought. However, recently, I'd s.p.a.ce out for longer periods while thinking on it. It'll get worse till the time comes, too.

After tidying the kitchen and wiping the sink, I turned off the lights and headed to my room before realizing I forgot my coat.

I rerouted to the banquet hall and noticed that it was unusually bright. In the middle of the hall, a man was sitting near the table, basking under the moonlight that shone through the stained gla.s.s windows. There was a lamp on the table, illuminating the room.

“I was waiting for you, Clear.”
“…Your majesty.”

It was the king, Shayde.

His red hair was ruffled, and his expression somewhat grim. I recently heard that he was given the name "The Red Lion" due to his bravery in his younger days. I spent more than a year in this palace, so I was used to seeing his face. However, this time, seeing him show up out of the blue in this dimly lit hall made me remember his daunting ambiance when I first met him.

“Be at ease. While I may be king, I'm still human.”
“M-My apologies.”

Speaking in a way that didn't sound serious or playful, he took my coat and approached me.

“T-Thank you very much.”

I reached my hand to take the coat, but realized that wasn't all.

“This is…”
“Come, have a drink with me.”

It was a light blue gla.s.s of wine. The king was holding a similar cup in his other hand.
We sat facing each other. I've had many opportunities to drink with him in meetings, but this was the first time it was just the two of us. I couldn't help but recall the first time we met.

“Is that enough?”
“Y-Yes.”

Apparently, it's the superiors who pour the wine on personal occasions. The king usually has his servants to pour it for him, but right now, he held the bottle with his hands and poured the wine in my gla.s.s. The white alcohol slowly filled the cup. It had a fragrance of yogurt. It was most likely a dendel k.u.mis. The last time I had it was back in Asilia.

“It's a present from Asilia. I heard that the first king used to drink it often. Perhaps the first foreigner drank it, too.”

Prompted, I drank a mouthful from my cup. It tasted incredibly nostalgic. It was remarkably superior in quality to the one I remember drinking since it was a gift, but its particular taste remained unchanged. Perhaps it was because of that taste that it didn't receive much acclaim in the capital.

The king followed me, drinking from his gla.s.s before letting out a satisfied breath.

“…Your cooking was splendid tonight. I never thought that shark meat could taste so delicious.”
“I'm glad you found it pleasing.”
“Let's not forget about Isela. She seems to enjoy making those sweets for Aisa. It's all thanks to you for your willingness to teach her despite the rude att.i.tude she used to take with you.”
“It's the fruit of Isela's talent and effort.”
“Hoo… She has talent, I see.”

The king laughed seeming both happy and surprised. According to what Hagan told me, Shayde doesn't like sweet food. Earlier, he ate Isela's cake without saying a word, but I guess his feelings for his daughter who does her best to make her best friend happy were no lie, either. Put at ease by his laugh, I smiled too.

“Isela is quite fond of Aisa, isn't she?”
“That's right. Just like her father…”

I couldn't quite pick up the implication he was giving off. Putting the matter aside, the king drank another mouthful of wine and continued:

“Not only Isela… even Hagan and the rest of the royal chefs are grateful for the food knowledge you've shared with them in this short period of time. This makes me glad to have invited you to the palace.”

I shook my head left and right when I heard his praise of me.

“It's not because of me. It's all thanks to the ancestors of my world.”
“How humble of you. Nevertheless, you said that your world was not only developed in its food culture, but also had artificial lightning, iron vehicles, and things I could never imagine. How enviable.”
“Well… With good, there also comes bad.”
“That goes for any world. However, it's strange indeed for our underdeveloped world to be blessed by the grace of sakla.”

He was right. This world fell behind in food culture, but the unique existence of sakla was unquestionably superior to Earth.

“This causes me to wonder if there was really a meaning in my being brought to this world.”
“What do you mean?”
“No matter how skilled I become as a chef, I could never make something that rivals the taste of a sakla.”

I wasn't talking only about myself. Even on Earth, no matter how much time went by, we'd never be able to make something so delicious. That is how heaven-defying the taste of a sakla is. It's left me vexed many times, but each time I'm forced to accept that nothing could be done about it. If there were to be something like a spiritual G.o.d, then it would definitely be possessing a sakla's body.

“The previous foreigner to this world used his knowledge to help bring about the founding of this country. However, what about me? As far as I could go, I'll never reach the taste of a sakla. Could G.o.d really have sent me here, seeking something from me? Perhaps, something even unrelated to food…”

It wouldn't be a surprise if my duty in this world was something different. The king mentioned it as a guess back when I first met with him. Both of us were well aware of that possibility, but neither talked about it until today.
It's obvious that saying something wouldn't have changed a thing. In fact, this is exactly why I kept quiet about it until now. Had I not been so impatient about this, I wouldn't have said a thing.

“A sakla is only tasted by a select few individuals, while your works will eventually reach all the subjects of the monarchy, depending on your and my judgments,” the king replied, not denying my point.

I could never make something as delicious as a sakla, but I can at least share my food with the entire world. That is the most significant advantage I had over a sakla.

“And besides, sakla are slowly going instinct… did you know that?”
“I've heard about it from Hagan.”

Sakla have existed since the 39th year of the monarchy calendar. They began being born in a fairly fast manner, but for the last 300 years their frequency has begun to gradually dwindle.
I was shocked to hear that Aisa was the 300th sakla in history, but apparently, she would be around the 2000th had the frequency not changed.

There used to be seven or eight sakla born a year in the past, but now it's dropped to one every 30 years.

"Sakla are gradually dying, but what of the knowledge you've brought? It will continue to spread until this country, no, until this world reaches its end. In that regard, it could be that you were sent to replace sakla with a new grace.”

“…That's one way to think of it.”

It was quite a fascinating interpretation, though nothing more than a guess. The king read my thoughts and continued.

“I still remember the letter Aisa sent when she was with you in Asilia. She insisted on you to be her sakla preparator. Don't you think that having a sakla desire you to cook them is a sufficient justification for your being in this world?”

The conversation suddenly s.h.i.+fted to Aisa herself. I felt he was trying to change the subject, but at the same time, his dreamy speech escalated my suspicions.

“Your majesty, do you want me to cook Aisa, too?”
“That is what our sakla desires; Of course that's what I wish.”
“No, that's not what I meant… um, do you not mind me cooking Aisa? Or do you…?” I said, putting emphasis on Aisa's name.

He spoke in a way that clearly indicated he himself desires me to be a sakla preparator. Shayde gazed at me silently for a few moments before letting out a short sigh.

“You really are a sharp one.”

Implicitly acknowledging my guess, the king drank the rest of the wine from his cup and poured more.

“Have you ever heard of Yuan?”
“He's the previous sakla, if I'm not mistaken.”

I knew of him from Hagan sharing his experience cooking the previous sakla. He was born in the year 440 in Asilia and ripened in the year 456. He was a boy, as it were.

“Although there is no correlation between the taste of a sakla and its looks, Yuan was an absolutely beautiful sakla. In my youth before inheriting the throne, I was used to having many boys of my age around. However, the moment I saw Yuan for the first time, I undeniably fell for him.”

The topic s.h.i.+fted once again, this time to male romance. The king used to have a legal wife, Yulem, who pa.s.sed away after giving birth to Isela. Normally, a ruler has the image of marrying multiple wives. I finally discovered a plausible explanation for Shayde being an exception. The reason he didn't marry more than a single wife was seemingly due to him not liking women to begin with.

“Back when I married my wife, Hagan would often scold me for being captivated by Yuan's charm instead of giving her attention.”

I remembered Hagan's grief-filled recounting of Queen Yulem back at my first ganzara. Perhaps the grief-filled countenance he told the story with came not only from her being denied a ganzara, but the fact that King Shayde never truly loved her.

“I've always been sorry toward Yulem, however, loving Yuan is not something I will ever lament or consider a mistake. When he first began living in the palace, you would rarely see him outside his room…”

The king then talked about his story with Yuan and how he'd try to attract the attention of the lonely boy who left his hometown, and eventually make their love mutual.

They created the botanic garden in the palace by planting flowers from Asilia, they rode a dendel together inside the court, and had a lot of fun. As a result, the boy gathered the courage to visit the royal palace and meet with Shayde, then talk about his hometown.

“Once Yuan opened his heart to me, he began to reveal his jealous personality. He didn't mind that I was already married. However, he would often get displeased if he saw me talking with other boys my age. It was then that I stopped surrounding myself with young servants.”

Their relations.h.i.+p as a prince and sakla, who will eventually be eaten by him, made their love sound surreal for me. A king who pours his love into a boy he will one day eat, and the boy who accepts that love. I bet neither the king nor Yuan grieved their situation after Yuan was consumed when he turned 16.

“A sakla is meant to bring heaven to the tongue of the one who consumes it, but among all who did, I am confident I was the one who relished him the most.”

I listened without saying a word. The king placed his wine gla.s.s on the table, took a deep breath, then continued:

“I loved Yuan and ate him… but I wasn't the one who cooked him whatsoever. It was Hagan, the chef whose skills I do not doubt… I've never doubted his skills to this day, but-”

Shayde pointed a finger at me and looked on with an enthusiastic gaze. I more or less knew what he was going to say.

“I'm honestly envious of you. A sakla insists on you being its preparator. This is something even I didn't dare dream of.”
“And so, you want me to…”
“That's right.”

He saw his dream in myself.

This king was really unusual. It was already too late for me to realize it at this point. After all, not much time is left until Aisa will ripen. It could be in a year or two, or even tomorrow.

The king spoke all what he had to say and savored the rest of his wine, elegantly.

“Your majesty.”
“What is it?”

Waiting for him to drink up his gla.s.s, I broke the silence. I informed him that I was leaving for my room, took a deep breath, and declared:

“I am not Aisa's official chef yet.”
“I know.”

The fact that my position as a sakla preparator was still on hiatus was proof of my incompetence, yet was also a bold declaration of my own stance.

I had to take the initiative, otherwise, a feeble person like me would become a slave to the will of the rest.

“So, I still haven't accepted th-”
“You will. I know you will.”

The king cut me off.

There was no need to ask the obvious. We both know what I'll have to accept before long.

The king's deep snort didn't sound like a sneer, nor a scornful laugh. I couldn't add any further objections; I knew that he was also aware of the devilishness of delicacies.

***

The fifth month of the 488th year of the monarchy calendar. Asilia.

“Boaaghh!”

Vomit flooded from my mouth into a hole I dug. Undigested vegetables, bread, and meat smeared by my gastric juices peeked from the hole. It was the human flesh I cooked today.

I couldn't hold it the first time, but after each funeral since then, I went somewhere out of sight and forced it all out.

Behind the ceremony site, I buried the remains of the corpse I ate in a hole I dug myself. For someone who believes in the ganzara, it'd be the most blasphemous action one could commit in this country. I was almost crushed by guilt when I threw up the flesh on purpose. I felt heavier guilt compared to when I actually ate it.

In spite of that, I made vomiting after partic.i.p.ating in a ganzara a routine to the point that I became used to the pain from gastric acid scorching my throat.

Getting relieved by the pain in my throat, I returned to the funeral site. By the time I made my exit, under the guise of cleaning the kitchen, most of the attendants had already left. When I returned, only the deceased's relatives were still present.

“Welcome back. Everyone was saying the food was delicious.”

Aisa complimented me while carrying a baby in her arms. It was her elder brother s.h.i.+zam and his wife's child, just recently born.

The deceased was Aisa's grand aunt. She got a letter the other day informing her that her grand aunt's time was nigh, so both of us returned to Asilia. She asked me to accompany her as the funeral chef, and I readily accepted. The grand aunt pa.s.sed away three days after we arrived.

“It was really delicious. The meat of an old person doesn't normally taste good. I'm impressed.”
“My aunt, Mani, must be pleased with your work. I am really glad you accepted our request, Clear.”

s.h.i.+zam and Karajan, Aisa's mother, thanked me for the meal. I wonder how they would've reacted if I told them that I vomited the meat from their beloved aunt in a hole in the ground.

“You're a great cook. I feel at ease entrusting Aisa to you.”

The father, Sazan, placed his hand on my shoulder with a cheerful smile. I didn't bother asking him what he meant by entrusting Aisa to myself.
I had no clue of Aisa's fate back when I used to live here. Only after did I come to learn everything.
Are you okay with Aisa being cooked and eaten by strangers? The urge to let that question drift out had been in my heart for three years until today, but just like every other time, I could only give off a forced smile in return.

After the funeral, we planned to stay in Asilia for a month before returning to the capital.

In the middle of that period, we got a letter from Isela, begging Aisa to come back in a roundabout way, and another one from Atema where she advised her to enjoy her time in her hometown. According to Aisa, the letters from those two always had a similar pattern. I personally agree with Atema's advice.
Unlike her almost prison-like lifestyle in the palace, Aisa's everyday life in Asilia was wild and free, reminding me of my first impression of her when I used to live with her family. She would go out shopping with her friends and sometimes help out her brother and his wife in looking after their baby.
As for myself, I took charge of cooking for everyone and borrowed the dendel, it slathered my face again when we reunited, that would carry my things when I go shopping. Nevertheless, I had a specific purpose, other than attending the funeral, in coming here.
I started a short cooking cla.s.s in the cookhouse, where the local housewives a.s.sembled. I distributed copies of the capital's recipes and chose the most popular to cook in the cla.s.s before having everyone else try.
Of course, it wasn't a purely voluntary work I decided to do on a whim. It was heeding the king's command for me to share my food culture with the people of Asilia.
I even shared the miso and soy I brought back from the palace. Both were well received, resulting in a heap of pressure to show how to cook them. Sadly, I got b.u.mmed reactions in return when I mentioned that making them could be difficult in the climate conditions of Asilia.

“So this barrel's all we have left to use?”
“It's fine. Large scale breweries are being established in the capital and its outskirts. It's just a matter of time before traveling merchants will make their way here.”

I gifted a few cookbooks to them instead, and requested the local government official to create ma.n.u.scripts with ill.u.s.trations for them later.
The books encompa.s.sed some possible methods for brewing fermented food, ways of treating and preserving ingredients, cooking techniques that don't require advanced procedures, and many more tips like seasoning and flavors. I originally wrote the book in the royal court and published it in the capital for the sake of sharing what I knew with the civilians.

“What are you writing, Kay?”

Aisa peeked in my room while I was moving my writing brush. I lifted my arm instead of answering and showed her the paper.

“Progress report regarding foreign culinary arts and ingredients processing dissemination activity.”
“Wah, this looks awfully difficult.”

The paper was a report about my activity sharing my world's food culture with the residents of Asilia. It was more like a personal note where I jot down the experience I get from teaching ordinary housewives how to cook, as well as the recipe ideas I come up with through interacting with Asilia's traditional cuisine and combine it with the knowledge I had.

“Kay, you're now able to write difficult sentences like this, eh?”
“What is it?”

Aisa giggled, causing me to laugh, too.

“This is really amazing. It's only been three years since you arrived.”
“Yeah… I still remember back when you first taught me the language.”

Thinking back to the time when Aisa taught me her name by pointing at herself, I realized that I've indeed made rapid progress. After all, I became able to write and speak casually, without the need of a real teacher. I even wrote my book thanks to Hagan and the a.s.sistance of the other royal chefs.

“The way this is going, I'm more worried about forgetting j.a.panese.”

I said it as a joke, but then seriously started doubting whether I'd be able to p.r.o.nounce j.a.panese correctly if I returned to Earth.

Aisa didn't laugh at the joke and continued staring at me. She'd turned serious a while ago.

“So… you really want to go back to your world, Kay.”
“Hm, well… I guess.”

I thought I upset her for a moment, but soon realized that wasn't the case. She seemed relieved when I answered honestly.

“Do you not want me to return, Aisa?”
“I don't want you gone, but if it's your wish, then I have nothing to say…”

Maybe she was saying that she would feel sad for me if I give up, even if that was precisely what she wants. If I stop and think about it, I probably was close to giving up.

I did wish to return to j.a.pan, but currently, I was putting all my effort in sharing my knowledge, which I found remarkably fulfilling.

The fermentation method for preserving food that I shared was used not only in the royal court, but even commercialized in a few market towns. The recipes I proposed were adopted by the royal kitchen and issued to ordinary civilians. The few concerns I had were related to the commercialized goods ending up with high prices due to the actual production supply and the books printing in a limited amount because of their antique printing techniques.

In this world devoid of television, internet, and even electricity, spreading food culture in a single country became a far-reaching task.

I had no idea how well I was progressing, nor did I check if there was even some meaning to all this.
I was aware of how ambiguous the task was from the start, and over time, I could feel my determination begin to slip into uncertainty.

In contrast, this world and its people was slowly losing its charm, the more I experienced their culture.

“Kay?”

I silently turned to Aisa who was also gazing at me worriedly. This girl standing in front of me is a gift from G.o.d, a gift born bearing a supreme taste. Both sakla and foreigners like me are told to be sent by G.o.d, yet they are wholly different from each other.

“Just what is this G.o.d thinking…”

Muttering words that didn't sound like a complaint or doubt, I picked up my writing brush and set back to work. Aisa remained quiet for a while before calling my name again:

“Kay.”
“Yes?”

I turned around, and she caught my hand.

“Let's go out for a stroll.”

***

Since the day we returned to Asilia, Aisa and I frequently visited the town market together. This time, however, Aisa walked the narrow street stretching by the side of our usual path. That street was surrounded by orchards, stretching out to the left and right of us.

“Aisa… Is this…”
“Do you remember?”

I confidently nodded in response to her question. It was indeed my first time walking it, but I did remember this street that continued up to a slightly elevated hill, on which stood a large dome. Three years ago, Aisa refused to take me to that dome when I asked her, and now, she's bringing me there herself.

“Are you okay with this?”

It was her turn to nod in response to my question. She continued in a feeble voice:

“Kay, I'm sorry. I was hiding something important from you.”

The entrance gate in front of the dome was built from wood and wasn't locked. Aisa entered first while I nervously followed.

I had a.s.sumed this place was some sort of religious inst.i.tution, but to my surprise, it had neither an altar nor anything of a religious nature inside. Even the floor was mere earth, just like the outside.
There was a waist-high stone monument that sat in the center of the room, illuminated by light s.h.i.+ning down from a skylight. Text was carved on it.

“Try and read it.”

Prompted, I knelt down and skimmed the inscription. That was the moment where I finally understood the motive and meaning behind this dome.

In a sea of sand where the wind leaves no trail,
wayfarers of the sand meet a man speaking words unheard,
sent from a world beyond their own.
Sharing light from beyond,
the man repaid grace for grace.
Bodies of law,
facets of power.
As the man lingers, yearning for whence he came,
the daughter of the chief surrenders her heart.
Once wayfarers, now a nation,
the chief of the wayfarers bears the scepter.
While the moon overlooks,
voices of the jubilant carry through the night.
The man and daughter are given to the dark,
while the moon overlooks,
in a sea of sand where the wind leaves no trail.”

The poetry engraved in the monument was undoubtedly the story I heard from the king, of the first foreigner who helped in establis.h.i.+ng this country. In other words, this is where the foreigner and the first king's daughter disappeared.

“Do you remember when I didn't let you come here that day?”
“…Yeah.”

Waiting for my reply, Aisa continued speaking in a somewhat guilty voice:

“I've always thought you were like the legendary father of the country, so I was afraid you might vanish if you were to come.”
“Is that so…”

My reaction was faint. I mean, I wasn't considering this possibility to start with. In fact, despite standing here with Aisa, the place where my spiritual forebear is supposed to have disappeared, I felt nothing at all.
I impulsively reached for the stone monument, feeling the inscriptions with my fingers. If this were a movie, this would be where the text starts glowing and the memories of my spiritual forebear stream into my mind. Needless to say, no such thing happened.

I let out a short sigh, simultaneously hearing Aisa's faint breath and turning back to her.

“I'm sorry for not telling you,” she apologized again, though I had no reason to, nor did I want to put the blame on her.

“I might have done the same if I was you. Rather, why bring me here now? I'm sure you already considered the chances of us disappearing together, no?”

Legend says that not only did the foreigner disappear, but also his wife, the princess. Aisa and I weren't lovers, but there was still an undeniable possibility of both of us getting erased from this world. There was no way Aisa didn't consider it.

“That's because I felt sorry for lying to you. Besides… I believed that you wouldn't go away even if you came.”
“Why is that?”

I immediately asked her to explain that strange conclusion.

“While the father of the country was sent here to help in building our country, your duty is to spread the knowledge of your food culture… that is what the king said, but I think you came here for something different. I think that-”
“I came here to cook you, right?”

Beating her to what she was about to say, Aisa widened her eyes then nodded, meekly.

“Did you know the birth rates of the sakla are decreasing?”
“…Yeah, I'm aware.”

I was been told exactly that from Hagan and Shayde. The birth rate of the sakla is decreasing at an alarming pace. They're expected to go extinct in the future.
Honestly, I've always wished for the grace of this G.o.d, who throws people in other worlds for no particular reason, to cease. When I think about it, I can't help but wonder how Aisa knew of it.

“I can't do anything about restoring a sakla's birth rate. Maybe I can ask G.o.d when I go to his place, perhaps. I know that I shouldn't think this way, but… Kay, if I were to be the last sakla in history, then your existence in this world would definitely have meaning. Perhaps you were sent as a chef, to cook me, Kay. We can't deny that's possible, too, can we?”

Aisa continued going on about her personal beliefs without taking her eyes off me.

“If the previous foreigner returned to his world with his lover, then, in your case, Kay…”
“I will return when I cook you?”

She nodded once again.

I guess that's why I didn't disappear as soon as I entered the dome. That was the conclusion she came to, as well.

It was an awful self-serving reason for my existence in this world, but the king's opinion of my duty was no different.

Fate, duty… it seems that people come up with the same concepts and ideologies no matter which world they live in.

I wonder if things such as duty or fate even exist in the first place. Even if they did, what events could be considered fate?
Only this G.o.d they mention in every relatable situation could answer my questions. What these people were actually doing was nothing more than placing their own wishes on a convenient target.
Being such a person implies weakness, or seeing it another way, it would be a way for them to encourage themselves, and sometimes, bring solace to their souls through a wish.

Let's suppose that Aisa's explanation about fate was true… in that case, would I be able to act in accordance to her expectations?

I asked myself and contemplated my destiny in this world on our way back.

If I were explicitly given a chance to return to Earth with the condition of sacrificing Aisa, then I would flat out refuse. Although refusing doesn't necessarily mean that Aisa will be saved, she will get devoured regardless of my decision, which is the mere choice of preparing her or not.

If my opinion has no say in the matter, then logically speaking, living up to her hopes would be the right option.

I faintly recalled the conversation between the king and I while we drank together:

“Hm?”
“What is it, Kay?”
“Nothing…”

Aisa reacted to the short grunt I unintentionally let out. Feigning tranquility, I quietly pondered an uncomfortable thought that crossed my mind.

“I've always thought that you were like the legendary father of the country, so I feared that you may vanish when you come here.”

Aisa's concern was perfectly natural. Then, how come the king didn't reach the same conclusion? He must have at least realized that he should never leave me together with Aisa as a countermeasure for this plausible turn of events.
Nothing happened this time, but that doesn't mean it won't happen. It's something that was once recorded in history, after all.

The legend has always been too ambiguous and closer to speculation. The only credible truth that could be taken from it is the fact that the father of the country and his lover vanished. It would only be natural for the monarchy to pay utmost attention to Aisa and me, for the sake of avoiding the same thing happening again.
Nevertheless, the king did not prevent me from being together with Aisa, who's supposed to be this country's treasure, and even his daughter, Isela. Instead, he also permitted both of us to return to Asilia.

Would he really allow this if he genuinely believed the legend?

“Kay…?”

Two years since I started working in the palace, my first suspicions towards the king whirled in my heart, stopping Aisa's concerned voice from reaching my ears.

***

I'd wondered about it ever since we returned.

I couldn't figure out an agreeable explanation for the king's contradicting actions. He requested me in accordance with the transmission of the legend, yet he didn't mind me being together with Aisa and his daughter. Instead, he was a.s.sertively trying to group me with Aisa.
I wrote in my personal notebook with large letters:

“Is the king lying?”

That was the most appropriate justification I could come up with. At this rate, I'll never be able to return to my world. The king is deliberately concealing bits of information so he can manipulate things as he sees fit. That was my theory.
I wouldn't be surprised if there was a different legend divulging the truth behind the whereabouts of the foreigner transmitted only in the royal family, a legend that has nothing in common with the one spread to the general public.

So far, this was all I could come up with.

The first was that I needed to fulfill some sort of condition in order to return. Maybe doing something specific at a certain time and place.

Cooking Aisa is similar to a degree, but doesn't accurately fit with the period of a sakla's birth.

The second was the a.s.sumption that the legend is a lie… The foreigner didn't disappear or anything, and thus my chances of returning are null. This was the easiest to grasp and accept. It dashes all hopes of going home, but makes a lot of sense. There was one section that seemed irrational for it being real.

“Is there a reason to lie about the princess disappearing with him?”

Hitting me with the cold truth from the start and eradicating my beliefs would've been much less bothersome than creating such a lie. It also would've denied any possibility of Aisa and I running away together in hopes of vanis.h.i.+ng with her.
However, according to the public, the legend had been left for centuries by now. It had nothing to do with my situation. Why not craft a happier ending then, like them living happily ever after? Why use such an unrealistic term like disappear?
One plausible explanation does come to mind. That is, there was something about the foreigner's fate that had to be concealed.

“Could it be murder?”

I paused as soon as I wrote the last sentence; my deduction was too extreme.

Being a little odd is probably normal for a legend that's been around for centuries, but that might just be my view as a foreigner.

There was no need to make up wild conspiracy theories just because I found something off in the legend. The first foreigner and I are independent of this world. They may have altered the end of the story to make it sound more mysterious.

Even my suspicion towards the king might have been due to my imagination and overthinking.

It could be that the king was unexpectedly careless and didn't realize the danger in leaving me together with Aisa. Or perhaps I needed to fulfill a particular condition after all, like sharing my food culture with the world before cooking Aisa and returning. Who knows, maybe that's his prediction.
I wasn't certain if such a prediction was safe or not, but there was no way I could take this theory any further, it's riddled with loopholes. If I were to reach a conclusion, it'd most likely be as far from real as you could get. Still, I couldn't just up and drop it, it sat in the back of my mind the entire time.
After that, I spent the rest of my days in Asilia mingling. In my free time, I'd visit local historians and inquire about any information regarding the first foreigner that wasn't disclosed to the public. As I expected, though, I got nothing worthwhile.

In spite of everything, I couldn't make progress in solving the last step of the mystery until the soldiers visited us by the end of the fifth month and we returned to the palace.

During our departure, Aisa politely parted with those close to her before leaving. She'll be 16 in no time, so this might be the last time she visits Asilia in her life.
I quietly muttered how I was glad I get to be with her the longest, and was disgusted at myself for thinking that way. It could be said I had accepted Aisa's fate.

Returning to the palace, Aisa jumped at Isela and Atema with a hug, happy to meet them after a while.

“Good work, Clear.”

The king cast on me a few words of appreciation while skimming through the report doc.u.ment, and rewarded me with 100 tupa.

“Did you notice anything different in Asilia?”
“…No, nothing in particular.”
“Your majesty, Kay and I went to the legendary hill!”

I got struck with terror when I heard Aisa's innocent declaration. I s.h.i.+vered to the point that it almost seemed like I leaped in my place. Luckily, the king didn't look surprised. He did ask, however, in a curious manner:

“Hm. Did you come upon anything of note?”
“Nothing happened, right Kay?”
“Yeah, nothing happened.”

My heart was racing. I would have definitely lost my composure had he directed the question to me and not Aisa.

“This is proof of G.o.d not sending you back to your world yet. It appears that you still have many duties to achieve.”
“Like cooking me, right?”

The king laughed with Aisa and nodded.

There was nothing in his att.i.tude, voice, or expression that exhibited the tiniest bit of agitation.

He's the king of a country. He'd easily hide his real intentions from an ordinary person like me if he wanted. Could it be I'm just overthinking it, after all? I really began doubting myself now.
The king could be careless, but things didn't work out bad for him. Neither Aisa or I have disappeared. Could it be that this is all there is to it?
I would've never reached the truth by contemplating the matter alone. All that's left is to question the king, and ask if he was lying to me.
I wasn't exactly confident, neither did the situation justify me taking such a risk. I had to focus on the actual situation at hand, which was Aisa and her approaching 16th birthday.

***

We entered the sixth month. As Aisa's birthday was nearing, Isela and I were in my personal kitchen one early afternoon, making the sweets she planned to present at the party.
She made a pudding of Asilian apricots, one of Aisa's favorites, and cake from a thin dough molded into the shape of a flower. She filled it with fruits pickled in wine and delicately baked it at a low temperature.
I recommended she let me a.s.sist as the recipe seemed to require a lot of work, but ended up watching her do the whole thing. She did everything perfectly. I had nothing to point out. The feeling I had last year of Isela surpa.s.sing me in confectionary baking seems to have happened.
The reason she still asked me to be with her like this, even when she didn't need help, was probably that she grew attached to me recently.

“Aisa told me you've been making weird faces lately,” Isela said, turning to me.

She stopped herself from mixing the egg yolk, b.u.t.ter, honey, and an herb extraction together. The mere act of halting her hand implies that she believed the same thing as well.
She was right. I've been absent minded most of the time recently. Aisa's ripening time was close, basically to the point where she could ripen at any moment. I can't stop worrying about it.

“Are you still unsure?”

She meant unsure as in whether to be a sakla preparator. I remained quiet, but the answer was obviously affirmative.

“You really are helpless, aren't you?”
“Sorry.”

I had no excuse. Moreover, I was surprised by Isela putting it so nicely.
Glancing at me bowing down in apology, she resumed her task. A short moment pa.s.sed with her only moving her hand.

“Back then…” she suddenly uttered.
“Yes?”
“Back then, I acted awful to you. I didn't consider your situation. You were raised in a world where sakla didn't exist. Your rejection was justified, yet I thought with a narrow mind and held it against you…”
“That's…”
“Remember when you shouted at the party table? I lost all composure then, but now I can kind of understand.”

So that's why Aisa readily forgave me when I came to apologize the next day. This explains why Isela came to confirm my intentions that night. It was because Aisa was intending to forgive me from the start.

As I came to understand things, Isela continued:

“So, I'm not irritated with you for hesitating now. You're a helpless person, just not a bad person.”
“…Thank you.”

Isela addressed me with soft words. The fact that she had forgiven me for my weakness was like eating the best tasting fruit in the two years we spent making sweets together.

“But you need to make a decision soon, before it's too late.”
“Of course.”

Switching to a slightly grim tone, she reminded me.

“It's your choice. Neither Aisa nor I can force you to take responsibility. Just know that Aisa… she's always wished for you to be her chef. Since the day she met you in Asilia, or at least, since the day I received her first letter about you. I remember how delightfully she'd mention that your cooking was so lively, yet you were still learning how to speak our language.”

Gazing at me with sharp eyes, Isela attempted to persuade me as she gripped the cuff of her ap.r.o.n.

“So please, regardless of whether you were going to accept or refuse, just make it clear. Aisa and I will never scoff at you. Remember that.”

***

The kitchen became quiet, and only the sounds of the utensils resounded in the place.

Maybe I should accept, I wondered while julienning the dried melon skins before pickling them with sweet vinegar and using them to decorate the sweets.

Each time I attended a funeral and cooked their dead, I made sure to convince myself never to accept the sakla culture. But, at this point, I'm starting to feel that sticking to that will only make things worse.

Are you fine with Aisa dying?
My choice doesn't influence Aisa's fate. She'll die anyway.
What about you take her with you to Earth?
Aisa doesn't wish for me to do that.
If there's nothing you can do to prevent it, you can only make sure she dies happily.

The same thoughts I've had since we returned from that dome back in Asilia were still whirling around in my mind nonstop.

“Ouch!”

An abrupt pain in my finger interrupted my pondering. The left index finger I was using to place the melon skin was bleeding. I slit it with a knife.

“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I guess.”

What am I doing? What kind of chef would lose focus and cut his finger? The last time this happened was years ago when I was still a novice. I licked the blood from my finger and a metallic taste circled my tongue.

“Reminds me of when I had to cut myself before meeting the king.”

But that time doesn't count, it had nothing to do with cooking. I had to slit my finger to enter the hall.
I remember they told me it was a contract where I promise to not lie in front of the king. Looking back, they certainly didn't include anything about the king lying to me.

“Um…”
“What is it?”
“What did you mean by meeting the king?”

Isela asked me to clarify my nonchalant mutter.

“Well, you know, before meeting his majesty for the first time, I was required to cut my finger and offer them a drop of my blood.”

Isela kept making the same puzzled expression. Maybe my explanation was a bit confusing.

“Since when did the palace… start taking blood from visitors?”
“It's more of an oath to not lie in front of the king. Or at least, that's what they told me. I thought it was customary, is it not…?”
“That's news to me, honestly. Perhaps I just didn't know, since I'm not a visitor.”
“…”

What does that mean?

It wouldn't be odd if it was just Isela who didn't know about this. Rather, it's the opposite. A princess is entirely unrelated to the obligations imposed on those about to have an audience with the king.
But what if such a custom never actually existed, but was made up on the spot, specifically for me? Why would they do that?
I slit my finger and handed my blood to the official. Why would the official want my blood?
I couldn't shake off the idea of this blood oath custom being fake, but at the same time, I couldn't think of any reason why they might do that. The a.s.sumption that they wanted to study the blood of foreigners who come from a different world arose, but the hard truth is that this country doesn't actively support scientific research drove me to suppress it.
They took my blood for a particular objective. Thinking for a few seconds, I correlated it with the one and only possible action.

“Ah…!!”

My heart skipped a beat. A terrifying hypothesis surfaced in my mind.

“Um… Let me treat your finger for now.”

Isela reached her hand to mine as if to wrap it. I reflexively shook it off.

“Kya!"

My reaction made it seem as if I thrust her away. Isela took a step backward.

“Ah… S-sorry about that…”
“It's fine. It was my fault for being so intrusive…”

After making sure she didn't fall over or b.u.mp into something, I looked back at my hand again.

My finger was still bleeding fresh, crimson blood… I hurriedly gripped a small tray in the sink with my right hand and poured the water gathered in it on the wounded section of my finger. Reddish water streamed to the sink drain.

“Fff, ffu…”
“Kay?”

The princess called my name, worried. Her voice didn't reach me, though.

After that, we finished making the sweets as planned. Isela's works were perfect… or supposed to be perfect since I didn't even make an effort to recall their taste due to the arduous time I had in feigning composure.

***

Two days later, I met with Isela and informed her that drawing blood from visitors who apply for an audience with the king was always a custom, according to my investigation.

“I'm glad it was just me who didn't know about it. I'm sorry for all the confusion.”
“No, it's my fault for startling you the other day. I apologize for that. Also… I will make my decision about Aisa very soon.”

Isela cheered up as soon as she heard that line coming from me. She added, ‘please' with a whispering voice.

“By the way… you seem to be wounded somewhere other than your finger, did something happen?”
“Yeah, there's a violent chicken in the coop I'm responsible for.”
“I see. Please be careful.”

Receiving a few words of concern, I left Isela's room.

The customary blood oath was all a lie. I asked every single official I know in the palace in some roundabout way, but none knew of such a custom.
The wounds I got recently were unwavering evidence, supporting my hypothesis of the meaning behind this conspiracy. In other words, one of my theories… turned out to hit the mark.

I never thought that I'd figure it out without asking the king directly, but there are still many things left to clear up.

As the time drew near, things started to change for me.

***

“Aissama, can you dip your head a bit, please?”
“Okay.”

Aisa sat on a chair with her entire body covered in tissue paper except for her head, while Atema was handling scissors behind her.

Atema had been working as Aisa's maid for a long time, a.s.sisting her in many tasks like cutting her hair. She held a tuft of Aisa's hair with her fingers and opened the scissors, cutting it off.
I noticed that the only time Atema's expressionless face showed she was having fun is when she takes care of Aisa's grooming needs. Aty told me I look the best with this hair length. I remembered Aisa mentioning something like that.
Of course, I wasn't just standing there to watch the both of them have fun. I had a job to do, which was to collect every hair that falls to the floor into a bowl I had on me.
A sakla's fated to be consumed, entirely. From their meat and entrails to their blood, bones, teeth; even their nails and hair. No part of her body will get spared. I personally never heard of an animal with edible hair or nails, but according to Hagan who tasted the previous sakla, the nails and hair are just as delicious as the meat.
To retain their purity, it is prohibited for everyone to taste them except one who periodically checks their taste. Should they accidentally lick the tiniest amount of sakla blood, they are required to wash their mouth. Thus, the hair and nails of a sakla are usually stored until it ripens.
Finis.h.i.+ng with cutting Aisa's hair, Atema lifted a bottle of amber perfume placed by her side and applied a small amount to Aisa. The perfume integrated into her hair, resulting in a refined fragrance emanating from her. Atema picked a tuft of her glossy hair again and braided it while humming. She was in an extremely good mood today.
In the meantime, I bundled a bunch of the hair in papers from the bowl and placed it inside a storage bin. I'd already filled an entire storage bin with hair and half a bottle of nails since the day I got appointed this responsibility.
By the time I finished bundling all the hair and closed the box, Aisa stood up from the chair. I'm used to meeting Aisa every day, but at times like this where we stood face to face, I realized how much taller she'd grown compared to when we first met.

“Is something the matter, Kay?”
“Hm.”

Her new haircut looked great with her Ashy hair, braided with gems on one side. A sleeveless blue dress appeared when she took off the piece of tissue before Atema covered her shoulders with another silk coat.
It was the same dress she wore in my first audience with the king. I wonder if she noticed it, too. Aisa stretched her arms as if they were wings and spun, softly twisting the cuff of the dress. It was a nostalgic gesture.

I gazed at her for a while, then commented:

“You're beautiful.”

It was the same dress as that time, but it suited her much better today.

“That's because I had someone make me beautiful, right?”

Blus.h.i.+ng, Aisa glanced at Atema. I thought that even her reactions became more mature.

“I apologize for making you wait. Shall we be off?”

Aisa, Atema, and I were going to the city today. I've always come up with different excuses to take out Aisa with me since the day we went to buy beans in the market, but today, I didn't have to. Today was a celebration.

“You're dressed awfully pretty today, aren't you?”
“Today's a very special day.”

Today was Aisa's 16th birthday, the last birthday she will experience in her short life.

***

We left from the entrance door as we always do. Coming and going to the city became second nature to the young girl who was once caged in the palace. The bright scenery of the city, the sound of hustle and bustle, the delicious odors wafting over from the market and restaurants on the way… everything outside became everyday scenery for Aisa and me.

“Aisa, is that you?”
“Ah, Yudy-san.”

While walking down the street, Aisa encountered a girl of her age and exchanged a few words.

“Going out with Atema and Master Clear today, too?”
“Yep. Today's my birthday, so we're celebrating it by going out.”

Yudy was a girl who works in a cart near the grand market. She greeted Aisa everytime we pa.s.sed by this street and eventually became friends with her. Not only Yudy, but Aisa had made quite a lot of acquaintances in the city, to the point where even some random merchants and cart owners would call us to buy from them as soon as they notice our presence.
Aisa's wish and dream to become a normal girl had finally become a reality, except the fact that none of them knew she was a sakla.

“Okay then, later.”
“Okay.”

Aisa and Yudy waved goodbye.

“Later,” huh…
We continued walking our usual street. Despite today being Aisa's birthday, we didn't take a different path. Aisa never seemed to get tired of gazing at the same scenery. She would always be humming in a pleased mood. Today, her steps were notably lighter than usual. The gems decorating her braided hair ringed in tandem with her rhythm.

We watched a bunch of traveling entertainers playing with their monkeys and applauded, then tasted a new s.h.i.+lda melon dessert from the dessert shop in the market.

In our visit to the market, Aisa bought a hairpin for Atema as thanks for making her look cute all the time. A royal maid is obligated to wear a uniform without showy ornamentation. The hairpin Aisa chose must barely pa.s.s.
Atema wore the feather-shaped hairpin, sticking it on the right side of her hair that was cut the shortest. She looked good in it. Atema seemed to be deeply moved by Aisa's little act, as she'd reach back and touch it every now and again.

My enjoyable daily life with Aisa was about to come to an end, just like my m.a.s.o.c.h.i.s.tic routine of being unable to make a final decision.

We watched a short play, and by the time we left, the sun was setting. It would be time to return to the palace, however, today was an exception. I was pondering a certain matter while we were watching the play. Before going back, I had to tell something important to Aisa. It was my final chance to set things straight. I turned to look at her.

“Ais”
“Kay-”

Just as I called her name, she looked back at me and called mine.

“Um… yes?”
“You first, Kay…”

Prompted, I nodded before breaking the silence.

“Aisa, I want us to be alone for a little while.”

Aisa widened her eyes.

“I was about to say the same thing.”
“Can you give us a minute to stroll around?”

Atema contemplated my request for a second before accepting, saying that it's a special day.

She always comes with us as a supervisor, so she must never let us off her guard, but I guess their friends.h.i.+p makes them a little soft on each other in these situations.

“Please do your best, Lady Aisa.”
“W-What are you talking about?”

Parting with Atema, we walked a secondary street branching from the main road.

This time, I took the lead while Aisa followed behind. I never brought her to this street. We pa.s.sed through a brick arch, wandering inside storehouses and imported containers to finally reach my destination.

“Waw!” Aisa exclaimed with a low voice, holding her hair as it was blown by the sea breeze,

My destination was a harbor, a deserted place for just the two of us.
The paved coastline was lined with s.h.i.+ps while the sun was about to hide behind the horizon of the broad sea.

“So, this is the sea.”
“Yeah. Is it your first time seeing it?”
“I never saw it from this close. It smells like salt and fish.”

She approached the coast and peeked out at the sea. It was amusing to watch her restlessly looking around for fish. She was born in Asilia, a deserted town, and raised in the palace. Thus, I brought her here, figuring she'd never had a chance to see the sea in her seclusion.

“I always wanted to come here. I'm glad my wish was granted, even if it was by coincidence.”

She walked back to my side and smiled. I inconspicuously averted my eyes and gazed at the sea. The sinking sun dyed the scenery a deeper red, accentuating the dark silhouette of the sailing s.h.i.+ps.

“What a great sight.”
“Right.”

I've visited this harbor many times, but I felt this to be the first time I gazed at the sea for this long. On my right, I could see small fis.h.i.+ng boats, while a large s.h.i.+p dropped its gangplank on my left, letting people cross it and board with their baggage.

“Are you intending to go abroad?”
“Maybe.”

Ishq Band is an international trade city. Countless s.h.i.+ps from all around the world sail to this harbor, and many of their foreigner pa.s.sengers speak the monarchy language better than I do. The average number of people who visit this city from the outside is 900,000. Including illegal smuggling, it would easily surpa.s.s a million.

I was reminded from one of my conversations with Atema that I've only lived in the monarchy this whole time; I know nothing of other countries.

The reason I tend to forget about this is this so-called "grace of G.o.d," making a little girl into prey and thus imprisoning me in the capital. I s.h.i.+fted my gaze to the girl standing next to me.

“…Aisa.”

She was watching me, too. I looked straight at her face, illuminated by the setting sun.

“Yes?”

I didn't make a sound for a few moments, being reminded of my incompetence for not being able to utter my resolve.

I bit down on my lips. Around the time a wave audibly crashed, I opened my mouth:

“Are you truly fine with dying, Aisa?”

My voice was trembling miserably.

“So, you still don't want to cook me, do you, Kay?”

Despite acting cheerfully and confident that I'd eventually come around, she knew all along I was still hesitant. Perhaps she was just holding herself back, and never showed anger or disappointment at me. She's gotten better about never letting her frustrations show, making me rather intimidated to ever have to experience first hand.

With all this on my mind, all I could do was nod and slowly explain:

“I no longer disagree with sakla culture. Seeing the people first hand, I realize that it's possible for you and those around you to be happy that way. I even considered cooking you at some point.”
“Then, why-”

I shook my head before Aisa could finish exposing her hopeful expression.

“It's your death I don't want to see, Aisa. I believe you can find happiness by living your life. I guess I'm really no different now than I was three years ago…”

Supposing I never met Aisa and lived these three years here, I'd probably sympathize with the other boys and girls treated as sakla, but that'd be the end of it. Call it cruel, but I never would've thought of interrupting the custom, and would instead just let it happen.

But I don't want Aisa to die, whether she's a sakla or not. That was the selfish desire I couldn't let go of, after two and a half years of meaningless, mind-wrenching conscience questioning.

“Have you ever imagined a life where you might live like any other normal girl your age? A life you can see through to the end, free from the G.o.d and traditions of this country?”
“…Is that even possible?”
“…We're just supposing.”

Aisa went silent for a while, leaving nothing but the sound of the waves. My words had some charm in them that raised a hint of uncertainty in her- it'd be great if that was the case, anyway. She was probably disappointed.

“Kay.”

Aisa broke the silence by calling my name, until suddenly…

“!?”

The feeling of her palm across my face didn't come, but she instead jumped at my chest and embraced me.

Placing her arms around me, she firmly clung to me and raised her head to meet my eyes. We never got this close to each other.

“I will live, Kay.”
“That's not what I meant…”
“No! You should know that I don't believe I'll die. Not just because I was born as a sakla, and not just because you, Kay, came to this world.”

Aisa opened her teary eyes wide and squeezed out her voice to continue.

“I like you, Kay… I like you. I love you.”

The sounds of the waves stopped. Aisa dug her face into my shoulder to hide herself.

“I want you to eat me. I want to become one with you, Kay.”

I remained silent, listening to Aisa's m.u.f.fled voice.

“Is it wrong to wish for a life like this? I'll be with you wherever you go, even when you return to your world… I'll be yours.”
“…Aisa.”

I uttered her name, but couldn't come up with anything more.

The way she confessed was most likely mainstream around here. More like the boy who ate Yugl in the first funeral I attended, and the story of Shayde and Yuan. Aisa was doing all she could to convince me with this edible brand of love.
My heart was throbbing so hard I didn't notice the sound of the waves coming back. Aisa pulled her arms from my back and stood up with her legs. The distance between us was still as close, her face buried in my shoulder. She reached her hand to mine and softly grabbed it.

She was warm. The loud palpitations of my heart probably reached her ears.

To be alive is to eat, and to eat is to consume the life of another living being. Am I going to consume the life of Aisa?

“I wanna eat her.”

I heard my voice. Five minutes, ten minutes… I lost count of how much time pa.s.sed with the two of us silently holding hands. Countless thoughts and plans crossed my mind, until I put my hands on her slender shoulders and sensed life from the warmth that came from them.

“Aisa.”

I said her name again and gently pushed her from me. I fixed my gaze on her wet eyes and declared with a solemn voice, a voice I couldn't have emitted just a few minutes ago.

“Thank you, I've made my decision.”

The cras.h.i.+ng waves quietly reverberated in the evening seash.o.r.e. The distance between us wasn't quite separate. We kept staring at each other, unable to make a move. Who knows how long we would've stayed like that had Atema not interrupted us.

“Um…”

Startled by the abrupt voice, we practically jumped out of our skin.

Turning to the direction of the voice, I saw Atema, who was supposed to be waiting for us behind the storehouses, standing awkwardly.

She then apologetically explained, while bowing her head, how she was worried she'd lose sight of us as we were taking too long, so she traced out steps and arrived in this awkward situation.

Aisa and Atema were close friends, however, Aisa seemed to be a little huffy towards her on the way back.

***

The next day. I went to the main kitchen where Hagan worked and told him my decision. Hagan looked surprised in the moment, but he soon revealed a mild face as he caressed his beard.

“So, you've finally decided.”
“I'm sorry for making you wait this long.”
“That's fine. More importantly, I'll have to inform Lady Aisa and his majesty about this.”
“Yes. Please tell his majesty that Clear Kay will accept the duty of sakla preparator.”

Everyone was pleased with the news of me finally becoming a sakla preparator. Aisa, Atema, and even Isela, almost shed tears of joy.

Two months later, on an early morning, my kitchen door was shoved open, Aisa showing up behind it.

“Kay!”

As soon as she saw me, she jumped and gave me a big hug, almost tackling me to the floor. I could probably guess what was going on.

Indeed, the instant I saw the red wound on her finger, I knew. Aisa had on a big smile as her eyes shed tears.

“My body has finally ripened, Kay! It's time for you to eat me!”