Ch. 16 - Meal-Maker Girl
In the room we’d claimed as our quarters, the kids sat in a circle, faces pale with fear.
At the center, Abby crouched cross-legged, gnawing her nails, her expression so serious it was almost terrifying.
“Abby.”
I didn’t have anything in particular to say, but the children’s frightened faces irritated me, so I spoke anyway.
“—!”
At my voice, Abby leapt to her feet. Like a flipped switch, she rushed forward and engulfed me in a fervent hug.
“Good morning, Di!!”
“…Yeah. Morning, Abby.”
Ridiculous, perhaps, but in that moment, Abigail the Queen Bee and I, Dietrich Becker the No. 2, reconciled. Sometimes, a little ceremonial nonsense is what a group needs.
Ashita and Eva were nowhere to be seen. Alive? Dead? In the kids’ code, either was plausible.
The others stared at me and Zoë, trembling, silent as graves. I didn’t mind—silence had its own comfort, even in this hellish room.
“Welcome back! Di, I knew you’d understand me!”
“…Yeah.”
And so, breakfast began.
Porridge of mixed grains, bland but edible, lacking the stench of the church’s gruel. It was almost pleasant.
“So, Di, what’s the plan today?”
“Let’s see…”
I thought for a moment.
“Zoë and I will head to Alex’s clan house.”
“Eh?”
“Surprised? Wasn’t that what you set up?”
Alex’s clan had ten adventurers—my partners in the work to come. Checking the environment was the main reason for the visit, but I also wanted to show my face.
Besides—
“And Abby… you’re curious about soap, right? Can’t have idle hands.”
“…Soap?”
Her blank look lasted only a heartbeat before realization lit her eyes. She slapped her knee with delight.
“Right! That’s what we talked about!”
I explained again the essentials of traditional soap-making: oil and ash.
“First, we’ll do a trial batch. Nothing big. Just gather materials.”
“Not going big right away?”
“Big ideas come with big risks. Be careful, Abby. You understand that, don’t you?”
“…”
She paused, frowning, but her expression sharpened into deadly earnest.
“…Right. We’ll play it safe.”
She had another task as well: improving this shabby house and making it livable.
“And stock plenty of red stones and blue stones.”
Hand-stoking fires for daily tasks worked, but magical stones were more efficient—bathing, cooking, laundry, who knew what else.
“Easy to say, but…” Abby’s gaze dropped, her face sour.
I sighed. Penny-pinching was part of her nature, but these stones were worth the cost.
“Don’t worry about money. I’ll squeeze it out of that muscle-head.”
She grinned, sharp teeth flashing.
“Now that’s an idea I like. I’ll be counting on you, Di.”
Her words confirmed it—her own purse was thin.
“No problem. Leave it to me.”
I’d bleed her dry if necessary. Whether it hurt Alex, that remains to be seen.