Chapter 69

The clattering of ingredients being prepped with care.

A steady rhythm emanates from the chopping board and knife, closing in harmony—a sound that stimulates saliva.

Even without fragrance or taste,

this Pavlovian-like response tingles my appetite.

Is this how I’ve grown accustomed to Evangelin’s cooking?

Perhaps it’s more about becoming familiar with the daily life shared with her.

Now, her presence feels natural.

Without her, the kitchen might feel hollow.

I quietly gaze at her as she flips pans over a crackling flame, adorned in a neat beige skirt and apron prepared just for her.

“Shall I fetch Jack?”

“Yes, please?”

Course by course, her meticulously prepared dishes are placed on the table.

As I savor their aroma, I head outside.

“Hello?”

“Ah?”

“Hi! Hi!”

The language of fairies and humans may not align,

but their resonance connects through bright smiles.

Subtly weaving between them, I find a comfortable spot.

“Jack, shall we eat breakfast and come back later?”

“Uh!”

This communion with fairies—how delightful it must be.

Grasping my hand with a radiant smile, Jack enters the house willingly, contrary to my worries about tantrums.

Evangelin warmly notices Jack drenched from the rain.

“Jack, you’re all wet.”

“Ahh…”

“It’s fine. Just take a shower.”

“Would you like some clothes?”

“Could I trouble you for that?”

“Of course, anytime.”

Even if he showers, he’ll get soaked again meeting fairies later—but I keep such thoughts to myself.

With Jack off to bathe, Evangelin and I quietly enjoy breakfast together.

Slowly. Leisurely.

Just as I savor each bite, Jack suddenly dashes in and hastily begins eating.

“Eat slowly.”

Ignoring his sister’s advice,

Jack seems entranced by the fairies.

Well, imagining mythical beings becomes reality sometimes, doesn’t it?

Though they started eating later, Jack finishes quickly and rushes out into the rain.

All that bathing was for naught.

Evangelin wears a slightly exasperated smile.

“You always loved fairy stories, didn’t you?”

“The ones I told you?”

“Yes, every time you come home, you ask me to tell them again.”

“Why don’t you ask me instead?”

“That’s what I’m saying.”

Fairies.

Cute and lively.

Maybe it’s fortunate we can’t understand their language.

Their boundless energy could be seen as part of their charm.

Perhaps this is how the image of fairies in fairy tales originated.

A slight illusion created by the inability to communicate.

Adorable imagery and rarity.

“Are you finished?”

“Yes, thank you so much. It was delicious.”

“Let me clean up.”

Dishes.

Housework.

Cleaning and tidying—all tasks Evangelin takes on without hesitation.

I’m endlessly grateful, especially on days when I return exhausted and long to collapse into bed after a shower.

If this routine continues, chores pile up endlessly.

But now, none of that matters.

With this gentle beauty before me taking care of everything.

“Have a good day.”

“Yes, see you soon.”

“Alright.”

Her composed reply echoes as I open the door and step outside.

What used to be a quiet yard where I chopped wood and mined stones has transformed into lush fields brimming with life.

Bonus companions have appeared to enliven these fields:

fairies, spirits, Suri, livestock.

My heart warms.

Lately, frequent battles have worn me down, so I’ve come here to fish and relax while searching for treasures.

A fairy skips along beside me.

When I glance back, she giggles and hides behind a tree.

Walking forward, she follows closely.

We play peek-a-boo as I settle into a fishing spot guided by instinct.

Sitting down with my chair, only then does the fairy flutter around me curiously.

If she gets too close, Suri watches her sharply.

Still, she gleefully flits everywhere despite it.

Such chaos exemplifies her nature.

Perhaps she lacks subtlety.

I lie back, leaving the fishing rod aside.

Recently, wielding a sword nonstop left me feeling mentally drained.

These moments of rest and recharging are essential.

Then, we can push forward again.

“Ah.”

The moving fishing rod.

Its unique sensation.

Fishing’s appeal remains consistent regardless of difficulty.

With a splash, a fish dangles from the line, slicing through the water.

Suri’s eyes gleam; I toss the fish to her as food.

A light drizzle falls.

The damp soil and grass glisten.

Raindrops patter irregularly onto leaves, creating an uneven rhythm.

The atmosphere crafted by all these elements feels quite charming.

Closing my eyes, I idly reel in another fish when I feel a tap on my shoulder.

Thinking Suri has returned after finishing her meal, I turn to find pale fingers instead.

Blinking groggily, I look behind me.

“Hi!”

“Anne…?”

“I missed you!”

From behind, a warm embrace ensues, filled with her damp hair and soft touch.

Silent, I remain still until Anne subtly tilts her head toward my ear, whispering.

“Why don’t you ask why I missed you?”

Her hands rest on my neck.

Her golden locks dripping with rainwater fall gently.

Close enough to feel her breath, Anne questions curiously.

“Why?”

Turning slightly, our eyes meet.

Her trembling eyebrows.

Her rapidly blinking eyes come into full view.

“Just… I just missed you.”

As she says this, the way she leans against me feels akin to carrying a water-soaked sponge.

“How’s work?”

“It’s manageable.”

“But?”

“It’s boring.”

Her muttering tone.

Does she dislike gardening?

I recall her cheerful smile when receiving flowers.

Gifts bring joy, but making it a lifelong career feels different.

Same goes for me.

The mindset differs between fishing frantically for money early on and enjoying it leisurely now.

“There doesn’t seem to be any easy work in this world…”

Anne slouches listlessly as soft raindrops fall gently upon her.

I thought she’d stay cooped up inside during the rain,

but somehow, she ventured out.

If lightning strikes, what would happen?

I refrain from voicing such concerns, silently swallowing them.

In situations like these, one knows better than to ruin the mood.

“Hey.”

Whenever Anne initiates conversation or says something,

her tone transforms into that of a mesmerizing fox.

Should I call it subtle allure?

Her melting voice.

Coquettish charm.

Maybe she acts this way specifically toward me.

“Hmm.”

“Who does Minho like?”

“Are you asking about my ideal type?”

“Yeah.”

Ideal type…

I haven’t given it much thought.

Back on Earth, there were a few celebrity names.

Here, certain personalities or compatibility might have popped up,

but no particular special qualities come to mind.

Your expectant rabbit-like eyes brimming with sparkle make me playful.

Half sincere,

half teasing,

I toss out a half-and-half answer laced with a hint of future possibility.

“You’re also my ideal type.”

Perhaps.

This answer suits the fox-like Anne perfectly.

Smiling, I muse.

“Kyaa! Eek! Yikes!”

Startled by my response, Anne begins hiccupping.

Her downward glance.

Her aimless hands.

Every reaction entertains.

Though unintentionally playful, seeing her react this way makes laughter unavoidable.

“You… really? Hiccup.”

“Want some water? It helps with hiccups.”

“Besides that… I’m your… hiccup… ideal type?”

“Water first.”

The grip around my neck loosens gradually.

As Anne straightens up, she looks down at me seated in the chair.

She accepts the water I offer and gulps it down.

A slightly widened distance.

The silence filled by steady breathing is pierced by Anne’s slow voice.

“Me too.”

Her trembling hands.

Her tightly clenched fists turn white.

I respond calmly while reeling in another fish.

“What?”

At my innocent question, Anne’s resolve falters visibly.

“I feel the same way…”

“Thank you.”

With a plain answer, I catch another fish.

Suri, who had already finished hers, stares at me from the ground with wide eyes.

I carefully place the newly caught fish on the floor for her.

Bounding over, Suri eagerly tears into her meal.

A somewhat awkward answer.

Anne fumbles her lips before relaxing her body.

“No… Seriously, am I really?”

“What?”

“That I’m your ideal type.”

“It’s not a lie.”

“Heh. That’s good enough.”

Beaming, the blonde beauty smiles.

Right.

You are my ideal type.

Just with a little less thrill.

It’s not devoid of emotion.

I’m having fun and feeling happy.

Spending time with Anne naturally fills me with energy.

“Who’s this friend?”

“Who?”

“You! The cute flying friend!”

The fairy, who had briefly disappeared, peeks out again.

“It’s a fairy.”

“Fairy? Really? A real fairy?”

“Yeah. We accidentally became friends, and now she lives nearby. Oh, and please keep this a secret if possible.”

“Of course! Hello! Fairy!”

Recalling Suri’s initial encounter,

where we communicated through chirps and squeaks…

Do fairies do the same?

Sure enough, ‘Hello!’ ‘Hello!’ They exchange energetic greetings enthusiastically.

Though their languages don’t align, the transmitted energy resonates clearly between them.

Their grinning faces speak volumes.

Deafening waves of “hello.”

The fairy appears delighted with Anne, zipping around her energetically.

Pitter-patter.

Patter.

The rain intensifies slightly.

From a light drizzle to drops touching the skin.

Anne’s expression turns slightly anxious.

Seeing this, it’s clear she didn’t come here entirely relaxed.

Did she come specially to see me?

“Shall we go back?”

“Huh? Yeah.”

Groggily answering, I take her hand.

“Huh?”

“Let’s go.”

“Yeah.”

Strolling through the rain absent of thunder and lightning,

we chat casually despite her slight tension.

Our conversation flows chaotically.

Like water spreading in all directions, topics emerge without order.

Yet, Anne’s chatter continues happily.

Until her tension eases.

When raindrops touch her hair.

When the rain grows stronger and she instinctively shrinks back.

Each time, I gently squeeze her hand.

Firmly.

To convey warmth.

Her face reddens as she looks up at me.

Her faint tremors travel through her hand to mine.

Feeling her calming shivers, I quietly meet her gaze.

The soft murmur of voices fades.

Only the scattered splashes of raindrops fill the surroundings.

When an awkward silence stretches on, Anne shifts her gaze,

bows her head deeply,

then shakes it off and resumes lively conversation with new topics.

“We’re here.”

“So soon…?”

“You didn’t want to leave, did you?”

“Not at all.”

“I believe you.”

Anne’s smooth nonchalance.

With that final remark, we enter the house together, drenched.

“Goodness.”

A faint gasp escapes Evangelin’s lips.

Her tone remains even as ever.

Everlasting calmness.

“I’ll go shower.”

“Hehe… Shall we shower together?”

“Playful eyes.

Even though there’s no intention, Anne’s question prompts me to toss a towel her way.

“Shower first. Use that towel.”

“Eh.”

“Wash with warm water. You’ll catch a cold.”

“Yeah.”

No skill levels improved today.

No hard work done.

Despite the leisurely day, my heart feels fulfilled,

brimming with deep satisfaction.

“World.”

Evangelin’s mild exclamation drifts through the air.

Her tone remains unwavering.

Everlasting tranquility.

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