Chapter 39: Giving (7)

The afternoon was a marathon…

After the plaza distribution, Mili had to keep up with Kaya and the soldiers, rushing from one point to another.

Each stop had thousands waiting, repeating the same routine—

A brief speech from the stage.

Then distribution.

Back on stage.

More distribution…

She didn’t even need to speak much; those who’d heard her earlier explained for her.

Just forced smiles.

By the third stop, Mili was in full autopilot.

Scoop grain, hand to people, say thanks, get bowed to, next.

Scoop grain, hand to people, say thanks, get bowed to, next…

—Next!

Her movements were a conveyor belt.

She could’ve slacked off; others were doing the work.

But…

It didn’t feel right.

Besides, it was just one day—chances like this might not come again.

“Little Saintess, your face is too stiff. You look like you’re being forced,” Kaya whispered, nudging her.

“Come on, smile.”

Mili managed a grimace worse than crying.

“Forget it, don’t smile…” Kaya shook her head in mock horror. “Too scary.”

“…”

As Mili teetered on the edge of exhaustion, a figure made her pause.

An elderly woman, frail, took her grain but didn’t leave.

Instead, she shakily pulled a small cloth bundle from her coat.

“Saintess…” Her eyes glistened. “This is some dried vegetables from my family… please, try them.”

Mili froze.

These people, barely eating themselves, were offering her food…

“Grandma, I… I can’t take this.”

“Take it, child.” The woman pressed the bundle into her hands.

“You’ve given us so much, I have to give something back!”

Before Mili could protest, the woman shuffled off, faster than Mili could chase…

Mili sighed, staring at the bundle.

“Yo, pretty popular, huh?” Kaya sidled up, grinning mischievously.

“Open it, open it! I wanna see what’s inside!”

“It’s nothing special…” Mili carefully unwrapped it.

Inside were a few dried cabbage leaves…

And a tiny pinch of snow-white salt.

In this food-scarce world, salt was a precious luxury.

“Whoa!” Kaya’s eyes widened, fixating on the salt.

“Damn, does this grandma think you’re her actual granddaughter or what?”

“Maybe…?” Mili tilted the bundle toward her.

“Kaya, want some? You’re always on the road, and I don’t need this…”

“Hm?”

“Sister doesn’t need this stuff, okay? It’s her heartfelt gift—keep it safe, you little dummy!”

“Oh…”

Mili carefully tucked the bundle away, her heart heavy.

…

Evening fell.

The final stop was an open lot in the slums.

The crowd here was mostly homeless wanderers and workers fresh off shifts…

Plus, a growing swarm of volunteers trailing them and curious onlookers, making it a chaotic mess.

The slum-dwellers’ clothes were more tattered, their faces raw with unmasked exhaustion.

But when Mili appeared, surrounded by her entourage, their numbness turned to confusion, then curiosity.

After hushed questions spread, the crowd erupted, the dead air igniting.

“The Saintess! It’s really her!”

“We’re saved!”

“Thank the heavens! Thank Her Majesty!”

These marginalized people’s eyes burned with newfound life.

“Everyone,” Mili stepped onto the makeshift stage, voice hoarse, keeping it brief, “today’s food… may not fill everyone, but…”

She paused, meeting their expectant gazes.

“I’ll do my best to make sure everyone eats.”

The crowd exploded in cheers.

“Long live the Saintess!”

“Bountiful Saintess!”

“Our savior!”

Mili took a deep breath, announcing the final distribution.

By the second stop, the planned stock had already run low.

Most grain came from the newly reclaimed west district—barren land turned into high-yield fields in three days under Mili’s work and advanced equipment.

But time was tight, and the shortfall was massive.

Only Eisenburg’s massive grain reserves, opened up, ensured everyone got a full meal.

Why Seraphina suddenly greenlit this, Mili didn’t know…

Evelyn was nowhere to be found either…

Kaya even griped about how extravagant it was.

But, well…

Shared joy, right?

With so many volunteers, Mili had little to do.

“Hey, little Saintess.” Kaya approached, holding a steaming bowl of porridge, flecks of greens floating on top.

“Try your own handiwork.”

Mili took the bowl, staring at the plain porridge.

Made from grain she’d helped grow, it looked unremarkable.

A “miracle”?

She scooped a spoonful, blew on it, and tasted.

Sweet, soft, with a faint rice aroma…

—Utterly ordinary.

Just plain porridge, mildly sweet.

No salt.

No sugar.

“How is it?” Kaya leaned in. “Good, right?”

“It’s nice,” Mili said softly. “Just… regular porridge taste?”

“Duh!” Kaya laughed, slapping her shoulder. “But look at their faces—happier than a holiday.”

Mili looked up, and Kaya was right.

The people, usually crushed by life, now wore long-lost smiles.

Kids circled the cooking pots, laughing and excited.

Elders sat under trees, sipping slowly, eyes misty.

“It’s… really nice,” Mili murmured.

“Trader! Saintess!”

A voice interrupted her thoughts.

Mili turned to see a young soldier, exoskeleton helmet off, approaching.

He looked barely twenty, boyish, holding an empty lunchbox.

“Yo, soldier boy!” Kaya waved casually. “Off duty?”

“Yeah!” He grinned shyly, blushing at them. “Um… Saintess, can I… get some porridge? I’ve been on duty six hours…”

“Of course,” Mili stood quickly. “Thank you for your hard work.”

The soldier waved his hands, flustered. “Not hard at all! It’s an honor to guard you!”

A worker chuckled, filling his lunchbox with a heaping scoop of hot porridge.

The soldier held it with both hands, eyes full of gratitude: “Thank you! Really, thank you! My family… we all admire you!”

“Admire’s a bit much…” Mili gave an awkward smile. “We’re all just getting by.”

He took a sip, eyes lighting up.

“This is so good!” he exclaimed. “I’ve never had porridge this tasty!”

He carefully carried the lunchbox to a corner, squatting to eat heartily.

Mili watched him devour it, lost in thought.

“They work hard too…” she said softly.

“No kidding,” Kaya scoffed:

“Soldiers look tough, but they’re just regular folks.”

“Got wives, kids, parents to care for.”

“Everyone’s hustling for a few bites.”

She pointed at the soldier: “Look at him—probably not from money. Making it as an Eisenburg regular’s already a win.”

After finishing, the soldier ran back to the pot, pointing at the leftover broth and crispy bits.

“Can I… take this?” he asked sheepishly. “I want to save some for my family…”

“Dried, it’d make a ton of noodle soup…”

“Of course,” Mili nodded.

“Awesome!” He beamed like a kid.

“It’s been ages since we had anything this good!”

“They won’t believe I met the real Saintess!”

Seeing his joy, Mili sighed.

“Who’s in your family?”

“My mom and little sister,” he said, eyes softening. “She’s twelve, loves sweets. I couldn’t get any for her…”

“She wants to be a soldier to protect people, but I hope she studies instead…”

“She can do either, whatever she loves,” Mili said, helping scrape the pot’s crispy bits into a full bag. “Take plenty home.”

“This… this is too much…”

“It’s fine.”

He took the bag, eyes red.

“Thank you, Saintess… really, thank you… I’ll never forget this kindness…”

“Pfft…” Mili stifled a laugh. “Don’t say that. Just take care of your family.”

The soldier didn’t leave right away. After collecting his share, he helped other slum-dwellers pack up.

His movements were quick, his attitude earnest—a warm heart.

Kaya wandered back, clicking her tongue in amazement.

“You’re something else, little Saintess.”

“What do you mean?”