Chapter 8

“She says she’s farming in Lium. I had heard that the couple’s daughter had no talent for swordsmanship, but I never imagined she’d turn to farming.

Apparently, she’s been trying to find someone to help her with the work. As you can guess, finding farmhands in Lium isn’t easy.

So, I decided to help her.

I can already picture your shocked face, Sister.

‘Farming in Lium? Right at the edge of the Demon Forest? What is she, trying to tour a monster’s digestive tract?’

But you needn’t worry about me.

For some reason, only low-level monsters ever come down into Lium.

Of course, knowing you, you’ll be more worried about the baron’s daughter than me. But rest assured—she’s safe as well.

…

Lastly, forgive your foolish younger brother for always troubling you.

But after this month, I promise to return to the estate. I’ll visit you, take care of my own duties, and shoulder my responsibilities.

Until then, please stay well. May the gods’ blessing always be with you.

—Ber.”

When he finished writing, Ber took out an envelope marked with a crimson phoenix.

He carefully folded the letter, sealed it inside, and then—

Flash.

A red glow shimmered briefly from the envelope, and Ber let out a breath of relief.

He set it on the window sill. The magic seal would ensure it reached its recipient safely.

Not long after, outside Ber’s window.

Flutter—

A huge parasol, pink and frilled, drifted gracefully down through the night air to land in the garden.

It was large enough to hide a full-grown man behind it. The kind of thing you’d call a “princess parasol.”

Click. The parasol folded shut. From behind it stepped a man—dressed extravagantly enough to make anyone gape.

Had Heidi seen him, she might have muttered, “Here comes Her Royal Highness! Everyone bow!”

Flame-red hair danced in the night breeze. His light-pink tunic, trimmed with endless lace and frills, looked more suited for a ballroom than travel.

His eyes glimmered like rubies.

Every inch of him screamed for attention, like he had stolen all the world’s flamboyance for himself.

And yet, with his fine-boned face and slender frame, the look oddly suited him.

“Well, well. From the moment you boarded my carriage, I had a feeling you’d summon me here.”

Brushing his long hair back from his face, he smirked.

“To keep me awake at night like this… you’re impossible, aren’t you~?”

He plucked Ber’s letter from the window sill, then reopened his frilly parasol.

Moments later, he and the parasol floated back up into the night sky, rising like a drifting balloon.

The next morning.

“Cock-a-doodle-doo!”

As always, Heidi woke to the crow of her rooster, Kochin.

After washing up quickly, she changed into her work clothes: a simple dress with an apron.

She twirled once before the mirror, watching the hem swish.

“Today’s back to farming, so comfort over style!”

She looked every bit the seasoned farmer and was pleased with the sight.

Heading downstairs from her second-floor bedroom, she stopped halfway down the stairs.

From the kitchen came a sound.

“Kyah! Kyang!”

That was Theo’s voice.

Startled, she rushed down and found him with his fur bristling, leaping again and again toward Ber.

Oh no, not again. If he bites him this time…

But before she could intervene, Theo somersaulted through the air—

Thump!

—and landed squarely on Ber’s face.

Then the little fox pressed his tiny paws into Ber’s cheeks, kneading them as though they were dough.

It was one of Theo’s quirks. For some reason, like a cat, he kneaded with his paws whenever he perched on someone. Why a fox monster did this was anyone’s guess.

“Human! Burnt smell! Burnt smell!”

Theo chanted as he kneaded away.

“…Oh.”

Ber gave a calm murmur, not at all bothered.

Relieved, Heidi approached and gently pulled Theo into her arms.

He resisted for a moment, squirming, but soon melted in her embrace, his fur settling back down.

“Why do you keep saying Ber smells burnt, hmm?”

She stroked his fluffy tail, waiting for an answer.

“But he does! Human smells burnt. I don’t like it!”

What in the world does that mean? Heidi was about to ask when Ber spoke quietly.

“Boss.”

“Oh, sorry, Ber! I was so flustered I didn’t even say good morning. Are you all right?”

“Yes. I’m fine. And truly, you don’t need to scold or stop Theo on my account.”

Her heart softened. A man who could not only tolerate her monster’s antics but defend him too—how could she not feel grateful?

“Still, it must be annoying.”

“Not at all. Actually, I liked it. His paws are… surprisingly soft.”

She could almost imagine a faint blush hidden beneath that scarf.

So Ber really did like animals.

“Okay then. Theo, no hurting Ber from now on, all right?”

“Okay! I don’t like burnt smell, but making humans hurt is bad.”

Good enough. Heidi sighed with relief.

“All settled then. But Ber, you’re up early!”

“Yes. I was hoping, with your permission, to make breakfast.”

“…Make breakfast?”

Her heart skipped a beat.

Heidi’s cooking was… disastrous. She could burn toast and ruin fried eggs with shocking regularity.

Theo’s cooking wasn’t much better. His little hands struggled with seasoning, leaving meals too salty, too sweet, or too sour.

She had long dreamed of finding a farmhand who could actually cook.

“That would be amazing! Ber, are you good at it?”

“I manage. As a wandering mercenary, I often had to cook for myself. With practice, I’ve reached a level that’s edible, at least.”

“Oooh…”

She knew from experience that when someone said “just decent”, it usually meant they were actually skilled. Her hopes rose higher and higher.

“Then please, today’s breakfast is yours!”

“Of course. If you have an apron—”

“Kyah!”

Theo suddenly darted from her arms, tail bristling again.

“What is it now, Theo?”

“No! Human can’t cook! I’ll do it! I always do it!”

He clung to her leg, eyes full of determination.

Right… Theo really does take pride in his cooking.

She’d praised him so much in the past—because honestly, who could criticize something so earnestly made by such a cute little fox?

But truthfully, her taste buds had suffered long enough.

“Today’s breakfast is mine!” Theo insisted.

Heidi looked down at him, recalling all the over-salted eggs, burnt toast, and lip-puckeringly sour tea he’d made.

“…No, Theo. From now on, Ber will handle the cooking.”

She spoke like someone who had finally made peace with a long, hard truth.