Chapter 29: Damage Assessment and Fortification

The damage to the cloud milk trees was as severe as the silver vine’s.
The mice had dug into the soil, gnawing at roots, but thankfully, their size helped them endure without critical growth issues. Unlike the delicate silver vine, the trees’ sturdiness saved them.

“After all my effort…” I groaned, frustrated.
The defense battle ended quickly, but the aftermath was brutal.
Worse, repairing the damage required Causality.

Estimating the cost made my hands tremble. Unexpected expenses are every modern person’s nightmare.
The joy from developing new recipes plummeted.

“All that carefully saved Causality, spent on repairs…”
If Catsy hadn’t proposed co-parenting or if I’d refused to watch the Nekomatas, gathering so much Causality quickly would’ve been impossible.
Without it, I might’ve had to leave the damage unrepaired.

Spending Causality stung, but the steady income from running a kids’ café soothed the pain.
The ravaged silver vine garden could be restored with labor, though the dead plants had to be discarded.

“Silver vine aside… the trees really hurt.”
Of the three cloud milk trees, two were attacked.
“They’re in bad shape,” Bernell said, examining them. The wounds weren’t naturally healable.

These weren’t ordinary mice—evil god minions left lingering harm.
Like the nightmare’s touch gave me lingering dreams, the trees might face reduced yields or shortened lifespans. Leaving them untreated wasn’t an option.

“Luckily, I think Causality can fix them.”
Two options: uproot the damaged trees and replant, saving Causality but waiting 18 days for new fruit, or spend 2 cheok to heal both trees.

“What do you think? Replant?”
Bernell glanced at the ruined silver vine garden.

“These trees survived because they’re large. New seedlings are just seeds in the ground. If more mice invade, could they withstand it?”
He was right.

I doubted those six mice were the last. If similar attacks continued and I kept sacrificing the garden, the crops were doomed.
Replanting cloud milk trees only to lose them again meant giving up on harvests entirely.
Healing was the answer.

I spent 2 cheok to restore the trees.
“Damn rats… the berry bushes are a mess too. Total devastation.”

Unlike the trees, the jewel berry bushes, with fruit at mouse-reach, were ravaged. Ripe and unripe berries were eaten, leaving empty husks.
The mice had climbed branches, tearing leaves and ruining shapes, and left black filth smeared everywhere, making recovery seem hopeless.

Of the seven bushes around the pond, only three survived.
If Bernell hadn’t acted fast, they’d all be gone.
“Stupid rats…”

Uprooting the damaged bushes broke my heart.
Bernell helped, watching me cautiously.
All that waiting for them to grow…
Just a day after developing berry recipes, my supply was cut off.

“The garden needs protection.”
Fences were the solution.
In my world, gardens use fences to keep out wildlife—tall enough to deter large animals, tight enough to stop small ones.

Recalling the mice’s size, I designed the perfect fence: my height, net-like to prevent burrowing, made of iron they couldn’t chew, painted white to blend with the garden’s beauty, with a hinged gate.
I accounted for future garden expansion, making it spacious.
Fencing the silver vine garden and berry bushes cost another 2 cheok.

“Ugh, seriously.”
The most critical area remained: the café’s exterior.
While I’d upgraded the interior, the exterior was neglected—barely changed since I arrived, save for the sign and glass front.

The eerie, crumbling roof and cracked walls, worsened by the mice’s battering, forced me to act.
“Fixing the exterior will take more than 1 cheok.”

Bernell subtly suggested modeling it after Abelgart’s grand manor.
While stunning, it felt too extravagant for Baby Bird Café.
In my world, cafés were modest storefronts. Even memorable ones from the internet faded quickly.

“This is tough…”
A fortress-like wall would boost defense but ruin aesthetics.
A beautiful exterior was great marketing.
Sure, new recipes drew gods, but a good first impression could loosen their Causality purses.

“Decided.”
Drawing from games, comics, and movies, I envisioned a fusion-style, fantasy-inspired look.

Whoosh.
Two light orbs hit the dilapidated roof, transforming it into a soft, arched, pale-blue dome.
Three more orbs struck the walls, forming eight sturdy pillars and white stone walls, topped with the café’s wooden sign.

The colors harmonized with the cloud milk trees, brightening the surroundings.
The exterior cost 5 cheok; garden repairs, 4 cheok.
Of my 21 cheok, 9 vanished instantly.

“Not bad taste,” Bernell praised, but with only enough Causality left for my latte art or his abilities, I felt conflicted.

Just then:
Manager Mode Open!

• Manager: Kong I-yun (Causality: 12 cheok)
• Affiliation: Baby Bird Café
• Presence Rank: 3 (3 cheok to next rank)
• Defense Level: 5 (Increases with Causality spent on exterior)

A new stat: Defense Level.
Unlike staff syncing with presence rank, defense level scaled directly with exterior Causality.

“So…”
My mind raced.
Defense level depended solely on Causality, not materials or design.
“No need to sacrifice aesthetics for defense—just invest Causality!”

A simple, intuitive defense method, alongside the warding recipe.
But with only 3 cheok left to the next presence rank, I couldn’t invest more now.
At rank 3, mice attacked. What would rank 4 bring?

Head buzzing with thoughts, I finished repairs and rubbed my neck, returning inside.
“Thanks, Bernell. You saved the crops.”
I finally praised him. His rash exit had frustrated me, but his quick action minimized damage.

“I’d do anything to protect you, sister.”
“Yeah, yeah, do it again next time.”

The terrified pig-bird clung to me, its plush weight comforting yet heavy. Exhausted from the interrupted sleep, I felt drowsy as tension faded.
“You were scared, huh? That guy out there took care of the bad things, so you’re safe.”

Calming the pig-bird until it slept was too much.
I had Bernell help it upstairs, grabbing cushions from its nest to sleep with it in my room.
Normally, I’d avoid the feathers, but after its first evil god encounter, I’d let it stay for a bit.

The disrupted night regained peace, and no further intrusions woke me, so I overslept for once.