Chapter 44: The Snake’s Shadow

I glanced at the white snake. It watched me silently, leaving me alone.

It seemed almost startled that I was unharmed by Frostbloom’s poison.

“Can I really take it to my café?”

“…”

Alternating glances between me and Frostbloom, it appeared torn by inner conflict.

With Insight’s ten-minute limit, I hoped the snake would decide soon.

Cooling my hand to avoid provoking the plant was a quick fix, but transplanting Frostbloom required Insight’s guidance.

The flower’s chilling aura clashed with the roots’ warmth, shifting constantly. Warm areas seemed safe to touch, but cold ones were daunting unless my hand was chilled to extremes. Prolonged frost exposure was painful, risking frostbite.

Finally, the snake nodded, granting permission.

“Thank you.”

Using a borrowed trowel, I carefully dug, treating Frostbloom’s roots like rare ginseng to avoid damage.

Insight revealed the roots’ underground form, so after some digging, I used my hands.

Separating roots from soil entirely was unwise. Planning to cultivate more at the café, I lifted the root ball with its soil intact. No roots appeared harmed.

As Insight’s effect faded, my vision blurred.

“I can’t carry it like this…”

Bringing a trowel but no pot was a blunder. My zeal after the snake’s approval had made me reckless.

I spread my apron on the ground, placed the root ball on it, and tied it carefully to avoid touching the leaves or flower, bundling it like a parcel.

“That should do. Thank you.”

“Good. Will we see Frostbloom at Little Bird Café?” Wishstone asked.

“Yes. If I cultivate it successfully, I’ll develop recipes. Growing it well is my priority now.”

With the ingredient secured, I had no reason to linger.

My desire to linger for leisure was overtaken by the urge to plant Frostbloom in the café’s garden.

“Heading back to the café?” Wishstone asked.

“Yes. Thank you, snake, for trusting me. I’ll care for it well.”

I headed down to fetch the pig-bird and Bernell.

Slither…

The snake followed, gliding like a puppy, tailing me.

With Frostbloom no longer needing guarding, wasn’t it free now?

Glancing sideways, its eyes lingered on the bundled herb, dripping with reluctance.

How could I walk away from such a gaze?

“You’re following,” Wishstone noted.

I’d pretended not to notice, fearing a softening heart, but now I couldn’t.

“I understand your worry, but I’ll take good care—”

Stopping and turning, the snake coiled in surprise, looking away as if caught.

To think I’d find a reptile cute…

“It’s been guarding Frostbloom since before this dimension had a god. Adapting to a normal snake’s life might be tough,” I said.

“I’m worried too,” Wishstone replied, concern in his voice. “It’s different from this dimension’s creatures. Most importantly…”

“No faith in me emanates from it. In its home, all life revered nature, so worshiping another god now is unlikely. But in this dimension, faith in me is natural. Resisting my divine power makes it an outsider.”

As a young god of a nascent dimension, Wishstone needed constant faith to build causality, unlike older gods sustained by established devotion.

Thunderbird once said dwindling faith weakens a god, potentially leading to their end.

Perhaps, born from objects, Wishstone craved worship more intensely.

Yet Catsy, thriving on dreams without overt worship, showed not all dimensions required faith.

“Moreover, its aura is similar to mine. It could…”

Another god might emerge, coexisting with Wishstone.

Though Wishstone held dominance, if residents began revering the snake, a new deity could rise.

As a new god, Wishstone might feel threatened by another’s birth, despite his claims otherwise.

A divine rivalry could spark.

“If I were a great god like those at your café, I wouldn’t entertain such irreverent thoughts. It’s my lack of cultivation,” Wishstone admitted.

Catsy managed many gods like the Nekomata without fear. Only at her level could one be unbothered by new gods.

It was time for me to wrap this up.

Frostbloom’s presence was risky here, but so was the snake’s.

Should I take it to the café?

This wasn’t a zoo. Birds, cats, now a snake—what was my café becoming?

“If its home dimension’s beings all took on poison, the snake must be venomous too, right?”

As if I’d stated the obvious, it bared sharp fangs.

It had overheard everything, pretending otherwise.

“My café’s guests are gods, but we have kids too.”

The pig-bird and kittens, plus Blue Child, gave the café a kid-friendly vibe. Though extraordinary, kids and snakes seemed a risky mix.

“Ssss…”

“It says it’s no evil god harming innocents. It kept animals away to protect them,” Wishstone translated.

“True. So, could its venom be a weapon against evil gods?”

“Sssat.”

“It’d gladly sink its fangs into one,” Wishstone relayed.

Blue Child’s words echoed:

“Some plants, by growing, emit auras repelling evil gods. If you can get their seeds, planting them would be wise.”

Could Frostbloom be such a ward?

From a dimension that perished with an evil god, it and the snake carried potent venom.

Wishstone deemed the snake’s aura pure, unlikely to harm my café. Could it serve as a ward?

“It can’t let go of Frostbloom. Taking it might be the right thing…”

Hearing me, the snake’s eyes sparkled.

How could a snake look cute? Too much time with the pig-bird had softened my perspective.

“Want to come? My place is smaller, maybe less comfortable…”

Kneeling, I extended my hand. The snake eagerly slithered up, coiling around my arm.

Its cold, slick scales sent shivers, but it was bearable.

It climbed to my shoulder, wrapping my neck like a scarf, head held high.

It felt like a petting zoo’s “drape a python” experience.

“You’re getting down when we reach the café…”

As a cold-blooded creature seeking warmth, it tried slipping into my shirt. I blocked it desperately.

How it lived with Frostbloom’s chill was a mystery. Its satisfied wriggling raised my goosebumps.

With Frostbloom and the snake, I rejoined the pig-bird and Bernell.

The pig-bird, seeing the snake, trembled and wailed.

“Bbi! Bbi bbi!”

Natural for a bird to fear a snake.

Wanting to approach but too scared, it stared, crying pitifully, perhaps thinking I was captured.

“It’s okay. It won’t bite. It’s a good snake.”

“What’s that? Why carry a dangerous snake?” Bernell demanded.

“I… found it.”

Explaining felt tedious.

“That’s not enough explanation,” Wishstone chided softly.

Forced to clarify, I recounted acquiring Frostbloom and the snake.

“Poison? It’s dangerous. Remove it. If you can’t, I will…!”

“It’s safe,” I snapped, stopping Bernell as he reached for his sword. “You overprotect me sometimes. I’m an adult who can assess situations. I’m not the sibling in your head.”

“I wish you’d realize how exhausting that is.”

Suddenly, Manager Mode activated:

“Bernell Abelgart” Employee’s alignment has shifted.
Alignment: Good 98% / Evil 2%

From 1% to 2% evil—a mere 1% change, but shocking.

Why? I only corrected his behavior.

Stunned, I stared at him.

He just glared at the snake, displeased.

Was the real danger not the venomous snake but him?

What happens if evil overtakes good? An evil god?

“The snake can ward off evil gods, like you. If trouble arises, I’ll return it. Don’t worry.”

My soothing words didn’t lower his evil stat. Was it permanent?

Would I need to send Bernell to Catsy’s dimension instead?

This could make things awkward, but it was only 2%. No one’s 100% good; this was minor.

Bernell was still useful, and discomfort would only hurt me.

“Wishstone, I’m heading back.”

“Touch the statue and pray to return,” he instructed.

With Wishstone’s statue, I didn’t need to visit his main shrine.

“I hope your journey was pleasant. See you at the café.”

Closing my eyes, wishing to return, my body felt light. Sounds faded, and a floating sensation enveloped me.

When I opened my eyes, I was before Little Bird Café.

“Time to work.”

With new ingredients and a ward, no need to ruin the mood.

Pushing Bernell’s alignment shift aside, I headed to the garden.