Chapter 9 : End of the day

Freesia, with a near-pouty blank expression, ate the stir-fried mushrooms, some tofu pancakes, and what I thought was salad but was actually namul.
Then the clear soup called miyeokguk and the rice.

“You’re eating well.”
Chew, chew—
“…Tasty.”

She ate everything but the mushrooms eagerly, and I grinned, picking up more mushrooms for her.

“…”
“Gotta eat these too, right?”
“…Okay.”
Chew, chew…

She ate without complaint, but her reluctance was obvious.

“Eating like this, you’ll grow just how you want.”
“…!”
Chew, chew—

At my words, her chewing sped up slightly.

Freesia’s movements grew slower than usual.

“…Belly, full.”
“That’s called being stuffed.”
“…Stuffed.”

Patting her head, I glanced at her belly, noticeably puffed out.

“You really ate a lot. You’re gonna grow so much.”
“…Too big, no.”
“You’ll grow just right.”

I stood, smiling warmly, and headed to the refrigerator, grabbing the meat roll and tube.

“…Roland. Eating, that?”
“Yeah. I’m grown, so I’m fine. It’s not poison.”

Reassuring her, I unwrapped the meat roll.

Hiss—
“Oh?”

Heat activated on its own, cooking the meat to a perfect eating temperature.
The faint protein smell screamed artificial, dulling my appetite despite the well-cooked look.

“Should be edible enough.”

Taste comes from trying.
Artificial or not, it can’t be worse than the empire’s preserved rations.

Popping the thin, long meat into my mouth, the protein taste matched the smell.

Chew, chew.
“Hm…”

As I chewed, a hint of grilled meat juiciness teased my tongue, mildly satisfying.

Chew, chew…

But that was it—a flavorless protein lump, clumping and breaking apart in my mouth.

“…Roland. Taste, bad?”
“It’s… fine. About as good as preserved rations.”
“…Preserved, rations?”
“Food focused on storage, easy to keep.”
“…Taste?”
“…”
Chew, chew…

I chewed silently, then swallowed with a gulp.

“…Tomorrow, I’ll give you all.”
“Pfft. It’s fine. This wouldn’t fill half of half my stomach.”
“…! Half, of half?”

She looked shocked at the idea of it not filling even a fraction.

“That’s why it’s better for you to eat well and grow.”
“…O-okay?”

Her worried eyes gazed up at me.

“I’m really fine. Just seeing you grow fills my stomach.”

Patting her again, I set the half-eaten meat roll down and picked up the tube.
Carefully opening it, heat warmed it to eating temperature.

“Like soup, but…”

Looking closely, I saw rice-like grains.
Is this how the rice we ate is prepared?

If it tastes like rice, it might be decent, but I braced for disappointment, bringing the tube to my mouth.

Slurp—
“Hm…”

It’s artificial from the ingredients up, coated in an artificial sweetness.

The mushy rice grains were nothing like the rice in Freesia’s meal.

If natural ingredients are 100%, this is maybe 75%.
Seems minor, but it’s a huge gap when inedible dirt or rocks are 0%.

Though it’s heavy on seasonings…

Ugh—
“…Roland?”

I stuck out my tongue after swallowing, and Freesia looked up with concern.

“…Sorry, I’ll just take a bite of yours tomorrow.”
Nod, nod, nod—
“…Okay, eat more, fine. Eat all, fine.”
“Nah, it doesn’t fill me anyway. Tomorrow, I’ll eat this first, then a bite of yours to cleanse my palate.”

I could skip eating and be fine, but… I’ll probably be here a while.

The empty roll wrapper and tube sat on the table.

“…Roland, okay?”
“Really okay.”

I didn’t show it after the first bite, but she kept worrying.

“…Really?”
“Yup. We ate, so let’s clean our mouths.”

Lifting her as I stood, she tilted her head.

“…Clean, mouth?”
“Cleaning the inside of your mouth. Bits of food stay behind.”
“…Understand.”

Nodding, I carried her to the bathroom and grabbed the brush-tipped stick I’d seen earlier.

“Hm, just brush with this?”

No oils or herbs in sight.

As I examined the stick, Freesia tapped me.

“Hm, what?”
“…That.”
“Tube? Not for eating… right.”

If it was food, it’d be in the refrigerator or kitchen.

“And it’s next to this stick, so it’s definitely for cleaning.”

Nodding, I squeezed a bit onto the stick and put it in my mouth.

“Watch me in the mirror. Gotta be thorough.”
“…Okay.”

I brushed slowly, mouth wide, showing every step.

“Ptoo—”

There was a cup, so I filled it, rinsed my mouth, and spat, repeating a few times.

“Now, I’ll do yours. Ah—”
“…Ah.”

I gently brushed her teeth.

Scrub, scrub—
“Tell me if it hurts.”
“…Hurts.”
“Pfft. Guess you’ll have to tap instead.”

I brushed as delicately as wielding a sword, careful not to hurt her gums.

Swish—
“This isn’t for eating, so don’t swallow. Spit here.”
“…Pchoo, pu… pff.”
“Pfft.”

I nearly laughed—she was too cute.
She didn’t know how to spit, just mimicking me.

“…What’s, wrong?”
“You’re too cute.”
Tilt.

I rinsed the stick and ruffled her head, her body relaxing into mine.
Then I remembered she hadn’t rinsed.

“Oh, hold this cup’s water in your mouth. Don’t swallow.”
“…Okay.”

I tried handing her the cup, but its handle was too big for her grip, so I tilted it carefully for her.
She closed her mouth, mimicking my rinsing, wiggling her lips.

“…Mmph, pff…”
“That’s enough. Spit here.”
“…Pchoo, puff—”

Second time hearing it, still adorable.

“Let’s do it a few more times.”
“…Okay.”

She took more water, rinsed clumsily, and spat again.

“…Pchoo, tway.”
“Now you’re spitting well. Though the first was cute too.”
“…Cute, good?”
“Yup. But I like you doing it well too—it means you’re getting used to it.”
“…Really?”
“Yeah, and doing it well is cute too.”
Pat, pat—

I helped her finish rinsing, holding her close.

“Time flew by.”
“…Outside, dark.”
“Time to sleep.”

…Wait, where’s the bed?
I looked around, expecting one in a corner, but nothing.

“…Roland, here.”
“Hm?”

Freesia pointed to what looked like a door.
Probably a closet.

Click—
“Oh, blankets are here, but…”

Where’s the bed?
Do we sleep on the floor with blankets?

Confused, Freesia tapped me.

“…Blankets, on floor, no good?”
“Uh… maybe. But I always slept on a bed indoors.”
Rustle, rustle—

Digging through, I found a thin, sturdy pad.
Pulling it out, it spread wide, big enough for me to roll around on.

“Oh, this must be it. No bed… weird.”
“…Soft.”

Freesia was already stepping on it. I chuckled, pulled out the blankets, and spread them over the pad.

“Freesia, gotta watch out for kidnappers.”
Whoosh—
“…!?”

Grabbing both sides of the pad, I lifted it with her on it.
Buried in the soft pad and blankets, her half-closed eyes widened slightly, looking up.

“Off we go—”
Sway, sway.
“…Un, unsteady.”

Moving slowly, she poked her head out, glaring at me resentfully.

“Still fun, right?”
“…Not, fun.”
“Oh, darn.”

We reached the spot quickly, and I gently set the pad down.

Tap, tap, tap, tap—
“Guess it really wasn’t fun. Sorry.”
“…Floating, unsteady.”

She clung to my leg, pummeling it with her tiny fists. Seeing her dislike it more than expected, I scratched my chin, flustered.

Pat, pat.
“Really sorry. Won’t do it again.”
“…Okay.”

Crouching to her eye level and patting her head, she calmed quickly.

…So, me carrying her is fine, but she hated the fast drop when we came here. Even in my arms, she doesn’t like rapid falls.

“Feeling better?”
“…Yeah, okay.”

I kept patting, then stood, pulling my hand away.

Grab.

As I turned to the closet, she grabbed my hand.

“…Roland, where, going?”
“Hm? To get my blanket.”
“…Not, sleep together?”
“Wouldn’t you be comfier alone?”
Shake, shake—

She shook her head, pulling my hand harder.

“…Sleep, together. That’s, better.”
“Uh…”

Maybe because she’s young?
I slept alone far from my parents at an even younger age, though.

Squeeze—

…Well, my case was unusual. I shouldn’t use it as a standard.

“Alright, let’s sleep together.”

I sat back down, and Freesia came close, wrapping her arms around my neck, clinging.

“…Like.”
“Yeah, I like it too.”

I slowly lay down, and her body flopped softly onto the blankets.

Squeeze—
“I’m not going anywhere, so sleep tight.”
“…Okay.”