“Sumire, it’s been a while. Fikar, you look well.”
Cecile-san, speaking softly with a voice that tinkered like a bell, was as beautiful as always. Her parents, Gartis-san and Mesil-san, both worked at the guild branch, but Cecile-san usually worked as a weaver and only helped out at the guild when we were short on hands.
In Tortea, weaving was an enviable profession and there was the special phrase, “the weaver girl and the man who fell in love with her,” with the same energy as a Carcathian man’s desire to have a daughter who made biting wine.
It was a tale everyone knew: Once upon a time, a fairy fell in love with a beautiful cloth woven by a beautiful girl and gave that cloth a blessing.
Magic herbs were traditionally used to dye cloth or give it special attributes. Just as magic beasts were the domain of the Demon Lord, magic herbs were the domain of the fairies – especially the fairies who were said to bless one’s loom and cherish beautiful things. Such a fairy has never been spotted, but strangely, beautiful cloth woven by a beautiful woman consistently had a higher chance of receiving a blessing.
Cecile-san, who learned how to weave at the age of 8 – much earlier than usual – has been weaving for over 10 years.
A true master of the loom, she was loved by those beauty-chasing fairies.
“Sorry, Cecile-san, aren’t you cold? I’ll make you some warm tea.”
“Sorry to bother you so suddenly. Besides, I didn’t wait that long.”
Laughing lightly, she shook Anemone-chan’s “hand” with her fingers.
We headed inside and I asked Fikar to start a fire while I filled the kettle with water. The tension was rising, but as much was to be expected when a woman who could change the atmosphere with her presence alone came to visit.
Fikar’s face, devoid of expression, was also beautiful. Being in a room filled with such beauty, I felt like my feminine power was increasing. Anemone-chan was fidgeting, too, at the sight of Cecile-san’s radiance. I get you, I get you, Anemone-chan!
I took a jar of pickled muka1-chili peppers out of the cupboard.
Muka, with its smooth texture like a lily bulb, had no taste on its own, but when pickled with chili peppers, it became incredibly hot. They also turned bright blue, making them stand out amongst the green chili peppers that were found here. Only a little could be used in a dish because it was just that spicy, but it was Cecile-san’s favorite anyhow. When she said that, I had to ask her thrice to make sure I’d heard her correctly.
For me and Fikar, I served a bowl of dried fruit, and for Cecile-san, I took out a small plate and laid out a few muka-chili peppers – without even a single drop of the brine that could have watered it down. Cecile-san thanked me and stabbed one with a toothpick before popping it in her mouth, and then a few more for good measure. It was painful to watch.
As it was, if the average person ate a small bit of a muka-chili pepper, maybe the size of your smallest fingernail, they’d end up chugging glasses of water2 with cheeks like a chipmunk and their face would be bright red and covered in sweat.
Cecile-san, smiling angelically while eating muka-chili peppers like they were macaroons, was amazing. However, I was grateful to her for helping to eat through our household’s muka supply, which hardly ever decreased.
“So, what brings you here today?”
“Yes, yes, I came here to help you, Sumire. That thing keeps appearing, doesn’t it?”
That thing? I tilted my head, prompting Cecile-san to point her whitefish-colored finger at my side and say, “That.” A poisonous-looking eyeball pattern was growing next to me out of nowhere. Without a second thought, Fikar grabbed it, opened the door, and threw it at the guardian dragon.
“Poor thing, poor thing… It’s depressing, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. Has this happened to you too?”
Cecile-san nodded as her face slightly crumpled. Her downcast face was still too beautiful to properly convey the sadness she felt, but I could tell that she’d had it rough.
Though, I was only able to be so negative at that moment because Fikar had just hurled a mushroom from beside me. I’d been so preoccupied with Anemone-chan that I didn’t have time to think about the strain perversity mushrooms had been putting on my heart. If Cecile-san had also been haunted by perversity mushrooms at some point, maybe her heart had been worn out as well.
“I brought some things that I thought might cheer you up.”
Cecile-san presented me with several sympathy gifts.
There was a beauty serum made from fairy eyebrows3 that promised to make my skin as smooth as a baby’s, and perfume from the precious full-moon flower4 that infallibly lightened the mood of whoever wore it. There was also a good-luck handkerchief that complemented Fikar’s colors and was covered in embroidered patterns of a red dragon. I now had a peach one and Fikar had a navy blue one. Looking closer, the threads of my handkerchief were each colored a tiny bit differently, which told me that a LOT of time and effort was put into this weave.
“Is it really okay for me to take these?!”
“It’s fine, it’s fine. I have to blow away some of the misfortune of being watched by that thing.”
“Mis-Misfortune…”
Even though she worked with the blessings of fairies, Cecile-san declared that perversity mushrooms were a misfortune.
Mushrooms would suddenly appear at all hours of the day and the people around her weren’t the slightest bit wary of them, although they lightly consoled her every time they got free food. Saying how those days had been tough, Cecile-san let out a long sigh.
I couldn’t help but feel sympathetic. Gartis-san was a cheerful man who lived life light-heartedly and Mesil-san wasn’t the type to dwell on things either, so she didn’t have anyone with whom to share her distress.
“It must’ve been painful for you, too, Cecile-san…”
“It was – that’s why you shouldn’t spoil them.”
“… Hm?”
As she looked at me with eyes full of grief, I blinked in confusion, not understanding the words she had suddenly said.
“Spoil, is it?”
“Exactly. It’s depressing, having those things grow before you even get the chance to let out a sigh, isn’t it? You have to discipline them properly.”
“… er, perversity mushrooms can be disciplined?”
I had thought they were mostly like normal mushrooms, their colors, eye pattern, and tendency to pop out of thin air aside.
I turned my head and pointed at the mushroom that had just grown between us. I knew I could communicate with Anemone-chan, but these mushrooms never tried to communicate anything beyond the fact that they existed.
While I struggled to understand what she meant, Cecile-san stopped Fikar from removing the mushroom as he usually did, and she suddenly pulled out a knife from her pocket and drove it deep into the perversity mushroom’s cap.
The sudden display of barbarism, done with a perfect smile, forced a squeak out of my throat before I could stop it.
“See? Stab it like this and make it clear that you hate it.”
She twisted the knife deeper inside.
“Tell it how its habit of growing at every opportunity is disgusting–”
Twisted deeper–
“–or how the way its eyes follow you around make you want to gouge them out.”
–and deeper still.
“Be detailed and forceful.”
The grinding sounds of knife-on-mushroom were deeply discomforting.
“If you repeat that a few times, they’ll come out less often. It took me about a year to figure that out.”
Her hand finally stopped.
“I should’ve done it earlier…”
Cecile-san was as beautiful and fairy-like as ever, but she’d pierced through the perversity mushroom so hatefully.
“I-i-is that so?…”
“Let’s be more specific then, like how–”
“Got it! I got it!! I’ll give it a shot!”
To prevent any more ranting from her rosy lips, I firmly agreed. Perhaps satisfied, Cecile-san pulled her knife out of the mushrooms and put it away. Anemone-chan, who’d watched the whole ordeal, scuttled away, and Fikar looked at me with no change in expression. No, I can’t change that dramatically… I shouldn’t…
After reducing the amount of muka-chili peppers in our house by half, Cecile-san walked out into the rain with a smile.
I was happy to see a new side of a beautiful woman, but at the same time, it was a bit scary.
Going forward, I did as Cecile-san had taught. I complained that the mushrooms showed up too often, that their eye patterns were excessive, and that their colors were unreasonable. But, eventually, I found that they were now purple and orange, a less atrocious combination of colors, and that the number of eyes had gone down to just two. Plus, instead of surprising me ten times a day, they only showed up five times. I would have to find time to deliver a huge jar of muka-chili peppers to Cecile-san.
“Ahhh, I’m so glad~ Let’s celebrate with grilled meat!”
And so I had a home party with Fikar, who seemed relieved to see that my spirit had recovered. We had some of the avaleyu beef I’d saved and I crushed a portion of a muka-chili pepper to make a spicy dip. Eating them as is, I knew that wasn’t something I could do.
Those days convinced me that there was still so much about this world that I didn’t know.
“Sumire, it’s been a while. Fikar, you look well.”
Cecile-san, speaking softly with a voice that tinkered like a bell, was as beautiful as always. Her parents, Gartis-san and Mesil-san, both worked at the guild branch, but Cecile-san usually worked as a weaver and only helped out at the guild when we were short on hands.
In Tortea, weaving was an enviable profession and there was the special phrase, “the weaver girl and the man who fell in love with her,” with the same energy as a Carcathian man’s desire to have a daughter who made biting wine.
It was a tale everyone knew: Once upon a time, a fairy fell in love with a beautiful cloth woven by a beautiful girl and gave that cloth a blessing.
Magic herbs were traditionally used to dye cloth or give it special attributes. Just as magic beasts were the domain of the Demon Lord, magic herbs were the domain of the fairies – especially the fairies who were said to bless one’s loom and cherish beautiful things. Such a fairy has never been spotted, but strangely, beautiful cloth woven by a beautiful woman consistently had a higher chance of receiving a blessing.
Cecile-san, who learned how to weave at the age of 8 – much earlier than usual – has been weaving for over 10 years.
A true master of the loom, she was loved by those beauty-chasing fairies.
“Sorry, Cecile-san, aren’t you cold? I’ll make you some warm tea.”
“Sorry to bother you so suddenly. Besides, I didn’t wait that long.”
Laughing lightly, she shook Anemone-chan’s “hand” with her fingers.
We headed inside and I asked Fikar to start a fire while I filled the kettle with water. The tension was rising, but as much was to be expected when a woman who could change the atmosphere with her presence alone came to visit.
Fikar’s face, devoid of expression, was also beautiful. Being in a room filled with such beauty, I felt like my feminine power was increasing. Anemone-chan was fidgeting, too, at the sight of Cecile-san’s radiance. I get you, I get you, Anemone-chan!
I took a jar of pickled muka1-chili peppers out of the cupboard.
Muka, with its smooth texture like a lily bulb, had no taste on its own, but when pickled with chili peppers, it became incredibly hot. They also turned bright blue, making them stand out amongst the green chili peppers that were found here. Only a little could be used in a dish because it was just that spicy, but it was Cecile-san’s favorite anyhow. When she said that, I had to ask her thrice to make sure I’d heard her correctly.
For me and Fikar, I served a bowl of dried fruit, and for Cecile-san, I took out a small plate and laid out a few muka-chili peppers – without even a single drop of the brine that could have watered it down. Cecile-san thanked me and stabbed one with a toothpick before popping it in her mouth, and then a few more for good measure. It was painful to watch.
As it was, if the average person ate a small bit of a muka-chili pepper, maybe the size of your smallest fingernail, they’d end up chugging glasses of water2 with cheeks like a chipmunk and their face would be bright red and covered in sweat.
Cecile-san, smiling angelically while eating muka-chili peppers like they were macaroons, was amazing. However, I was grateful to her for helping to eat through our household’s muka supply, which hardly ever decreased.
“So, what brings you here today?”
“Yes, yes, I came here to help you, Sumire. That thing keeps appearing, doesn’t it?”
That thing? I tilted my head, prompting Cecile-san to point her whitefish-colored finger at my side and say, “That.” A poisonous-looking eyeball pattern was growing next to me out of nowhere. Without a second thought, Fikar grabbed it, opened the door, and threw it at the guardian dragon.
“Poor thing, poor thing… It’s depressing, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. Has this happened to you too?”
Cecile-san nodded as her face slightly crumpled. Her downcast face was still too beautiful to properly convey the sadness she felt, but I could tell that she’d had it rough.
Though, I was only able to be so negative at that moment because Fikar had just hurled a mushroom from beside me. I’d been so preoccupied with Anemone-chan that I didn’t have time to think about the strain perversity mushrooms had been putting on my heart. If Cecile-san had also been haunted by perversity mushrooms at some point, maybe her heart had been worn out as well.
“I brought some things that I thought might cheer you up.”
Cecile-san presented me with several sympathy gifts.
There was a beauty serum made from fairy eyebrows3 that promised to make my skin as smooth as a baby’s, and perfume from the precious full-moon flower4 that infallibly lightened the mood of whoever wore it. There was also a good-luck handkerchief that complemented Fikar’s colors and was covered in embroidered patterns of a red dragon. I now had a peach one and Fikar had a navy blue one. Looking closer, the threads of my handkerchief were each colored a tiny bit differently, which told me that a LOT of time and effort was put into this weave.
“Is it really okay for me to take these?!”
“It’s fine, it’s fine. I have to blow away some of the misfortune of being watched by that thing.”
“Mis-Misfortune…”
Even though she worked with the blessings of fairies, Cecile-san declared that perversity mushrooms were a misfortune.
Mushrooms would suddenly appear at all hours of the day and the people around her weren’t the slightest bit wary of them, although they lightly consoled her every time they got free food. Saying how those days had been tough, Cecile-san let out a long sigh.
I couldn’t help but feel sympathetic. Gartis-san was a cheerful man who lived life light-heartedly and Mesil-san wasn’t the type to dwell on things either, so she didn’t have anyone with whom to share her distress.
“It must’ve been painful for you, too, Cecile-san…”
“It was – that’s why you shouldn’t spoil them.”
“… Hm?”
As she looked at me with eyes full of grief, I blinked in confusion, not understanding the words she had suddenly said.
“Spoil, is it?”
“Exactly. It’s depressing, having those things grow before you even get the chance to let out a sigh, isn’t it? You have to discipline them properly.”
“… er, perversity mushrooms can be disciplined?”
I had thought they were mostly like normal mushrooms, their colors, eye pattern, and tendency to pop out of thin air aside.
I turned my head and pointed at the mushroom that had just grown between us. I knew I could communicate with Anemone-chan, but these mushrooms never tried to communicate anything beyond the fact that they existed.
While I struggled to understand what she meant, Cecile-san stopped Fikar from removing the mushroom as he usually did, and she suddenly pulled out a knife from her pocket and drove it deep into the perversity mushroom’s cap.
The sudden display of barbarism, done with a perfect smile, forced a squeak out of my throat before I could stop it.
“See? Stab it like this and make it clear that you hate it.”
She twisted the knife deeper inside.
“Tell it how its habit of growing at every opportunity is disgusting–”
Twisted deeper–
“–or how the way its eyes follow you around make you want to gouge them out.”
–and deeper still.
“Be detailed and forceful.”
The grinding sounds of knife-on-mushroom were deeply discomforting.
“If you repeat that a few times, they’ll come out less often. It took me about a year to figure that out.”
Her hand finally stopped.
“I should’ve done it earlier…”
Cecile-san was as beautiful and fairy-like as ever, but she’d pierced through the perversity mushroom so hatefully.
“I-i-is that so?…”
“Let’s be more specific then, like how–”
“Got it! I got it!! I’ll give it a shot!”
To prevent any more ranting from her rosy lips, I firmly agreed. Perhaps satisfied, Cecile-san pulled her knife out of the mushrooms and put it away. Anemone-chan, who’d watched the whole ordeal, scuttled away, and Fikar looked at me with no change in expression. No, I can’t change that dramatically… I shouldn’t…
After reducing the amount of muka-chili peppers in our house by half, Cecile-san walked out into the rain with a smile.
I was happy to see a new side of a beautiful woman, but at the same time, it was a bit scary.
Going forward, I did as Cecile-san had taught. I complained that the mushrooms showed up too often, that their eye patterns were excessive, and that their colors were unreasonable. But, eventually, I found that they were now purple and orange, a less atrocious combination of colors, and that the number of eyes had gone down to just two. Plus, instead of surprising me ten times a day, they only showed up five times. I would have to find time to deliver a huge jar of muka-chili peppers to Cecile-san.
“Ahhh, I’m so glad~ Let’s celebrate with grilled meat!”
And so I had a home party with Fikar, who seemed relieved to see that my spirit had recovered. We had some of the avaleyu beef I’d saved and I crushed a portion of a muka-chili pepper to make a spicy dip. Eating them as is, I knew that wasn’t something I could do.
Those days convinced me that there was still so much about this world that I didn’t know.
