Chapter 16: If Only “I Don’t Eat Beef”…
A Hidden Dungeon Triggered
Crucially, rifts weren’t common. Did she just stumble into a hidden mid-to-late-game dungeon? ‘No way the map designers would be so kind!’ A scenic spot in some random corner, just for admiration? Now, the plot had begun, so the “dungeon” was live. Reasonable. Utterly reasonable… Realizing this, Weng felt like crying but held back, puffing her cheeks in frustration. Men don’t cry, yet her pent-up grievances made her feel wronged. Recalling the mine’s dragon egg, the mage tower skirmish, and the tunnel collapse from a spatial rift—were these all scripted? Bringing Vik to Maple Whisper Village might be the only anomaly. Perhaps just a fluke.
Facing the Unknown
“What’s your next move?” Vik’s question deepened Weng’s sense of helplessness. Shaking her head, the girl sighed. Guard the rift or retreat until the Church’s experts arrived—whenever that might be? It boiled down to her lack of strength. Frankly, if Weng matched Vik’s level, she wouldn’t be hiding. Yet, Vik patiently explained things to “small fry” like them. If it were her, she’d already be shouting, ‘I don’t eat beef!’ The transcendent path was long. From a planner’s view, high-caliber foes were inevitable. Vik mentioned never hearing of anyone above seventh tier. A pipe dream? Future challenges loomed large, but she wouldn’t fret yet. After mulling, she spoke. “Could you… stay a few more days?” “I never said I was leaving.” Silence fell; they stared at each other.
An Awkward Agreement
Weng’s thoughts were blunt—she needed a safety net. “No pumpkin pie yet,” Vik said, puzzled. “You planning to skip rent too?” “I said I wouldn’t charge you…” Relieved, Weng felt awkward leaving him in the relief house’s empty beds. “What’s the talk about?” Rila entered the camp, her loose black robe hiding her form, though a cinched waist balanced it. Four-hand insignias hung on a cord, their gold gleam muted by bronze and ash. Nodding to Vik, she sat beside Weng. The fire burned slowly, tinting the dusk red. Ashes and embers danced, vanishing in midair. “Serious matters,” Weng said solemnly, sandwiched between them. “The barrier’s set—it’ll alert us instantly.” “Thanks for the trouble.” “It’s because you won’t…” Rila grumbled, not about the barrier but Weng’s refusal to pray before the statue.
Faith and Crystals
Without divine blessing, prayers wouldn’t work, so Rila handled it. The crystal’s origin was clear—tainted by that space’s aura. “I get it,” Weng said, shaking her head. “You still try to convert me after all these years.” It wasn’t disbelief; transmigration made gods plausible. Yet, knowing this world might stem from pen and paper dulled her reverence. “By the way,” Vik interjected, relaxed, as if the rift wasn’t a concern. “I caught plenty of fish in the lake.” “Huh?” Weng frowned; Rila waited curiously. “How about dinner?” “Enough for everyone?” Weng doubted. Their calm after battle was infectious, pondering dinner so serenely.
Lakefront Feast Prep
Minutes later, by the lake, they gathered around a large wooden bucket. Initially, Weng wondered why such a fuss. Seeing the sheer number of fish, her expression—and mood—went numb. ‘This many, without even wading in?’ “You’ve never fished before, have you?” she asked, steadying herself. “Isn’t fishing simple?” Vik’s casual remark shattered her composure. Rila stifled a laugh beside her. “A big pot’s worth—how should we cook it?” Rila asked, peering at the fish. “Hmph~” Weng regained confidence. Who could rival her cooking here? “Boiled fish, of course.” Game settings didn’t need precision; ambiguity added charm. Developers loved flashy names for flavor. Over years, Weng collected spice seeds, cultivating viable ones. After tweaks, they mimicked real-world flavors. No chili, but a close substitute existed—distinct in taste and look. The results were surprisingly good.
Quiet Moments
Rila left to check the wounded at the church and relieve Vey. Thus, only Vik and Weng remained under the treehouse. The atmosphere turned slightly awkward. Words lingered, but she didn’t know how to start. About the outside world, their string of encounters, or learning more about him. It sounded odd. Weng wasn’t used to being alone with unfamiliar men. She told herself she was too busy. Vik offered to help; she insisted guests should rest. After a brief spat, his persistence won. Reluctantly, she let him wash the fruit from the cupboard. The moon’s chill light bathed them coldly. Preparing dishes and utensils, Weng waited for the others. Lost in thought, she sat quietly. Vik noticed her silence, a contrast to her morning chatter.
A Cozy Dinner
This place felt comforting, perhaps why he agreed to stay. Curiosity about Weng played a part, though reasons blurred together. Vik didn’t see himself as a saint. Yet, promises made must be kept, so he’d stay as pledged. Her thoughts didn’t concern him, like a cat’s odds of killing someone. “Teacher—I’m here for dinner!” Vey waved from the bridge, carrying something. Rila returned, swapping her nun’s garb for a subdued dark dress. Its hem perfectly covered her ankles, elegant and poised. “That looks nice,” Weng said, swallowing a question about Church rules. Rila didn’t explain, just anticipated dinner. Vey, the most frequent eater, was visibly excited. The evening breeze rustled. Weng urged everyone to eat while hot. Vik dug in unreservedly. Rila prayed silently for them all.