Chapter 44: Unfamiliar with Mr. Vick’s Preferences

A Familiar Face

“Lady Emissary…” The man fidgeted, standing awkwardly at the edge of the cornfield, scratching his head despite his age. Wenger remembered him as a child. “You’re Pishir, from the Garcia family.” “That’s me…” He grew even more reserved, though he was in his thirties or forties. “How’s your mother?” “She’s fine. Winter’s coming, and she’s knitting in the yard. Everyone says she’s got plenty to wear, but she’s still at it.”

Wenger’s lips curved slightly, not the stern figure he recalled. “She was always like that. You should still persuade her.” Pishir nodded eagerly, but when he looked up, the silver-haired girl was already walking away, leaving a calm silhouette. In his earliest memories, his mother had brought him to receive her blessing. Even when his mother grew too old to walk, she still spoke her name. Yet facing her now, he couldn’t bring himself to say it…

Wenger was unaware of the weight others placed on her. She could study people, observe their expressions or small gestures, but that was too exhausting. Guessing hearts was troublesome—bad people just needed a punch. Maple Whisper Village’s folk were simple, making her feel at ease here. Humming cheerfully, her steps lightened.

As for the title, she’d once pretended to be a village cleric, but that was ages ago. So long ago, when she first came to Maple Whisper Village, some linked “harvest” to her. A happy accident. Her magic and ageless appearance deepened that impression. But after her slumber, she awoke to find the title had spread, for reasons she couldn’t fathom.

From an ordinary person’s perspective, things looked different. She tried to understand, but only grasped the surface. Time had quietly stolen those emotions, leaving her unable to feel them. No matter how long she lived, she clung to human habits and thoughts. Powerful transcendents could reach this point, but what about longer? Seeking elves or dragons? No one had answers. If she lived thousands of years, would she still be herself?

These questions… Just kidding. Wenger was too lazy to ponder such distant matters—too brain-burning. She was still herself, at least for now. Worrying about far-off things only brought anxiety, not worth it. Every day was beautiful, and time with everyone deserved savoring. She used to curse a lot, needing an outlet, but recent years had been smooth.

The turmoil since late summer, though bumpy, had led her here. She should now be capable of entering other realms. She hadn’t tried yet. Tilting her head, she gazed at the distant mountain limits—once unreachable, now within grasp. She’d never been to Softwind Ridge. She couldn’t fly up before. Walking and stopping, she wasn’t sure if there were rest spots midway. A fall might mean starting over.

Always cautious, without reason to climb, she hadn’t risked it. Now, things were different—she could do it, and she wanted to. To see the sunrise from the horizon, not wait for light to spill into this valley. Sometimes, she wondered why everything took so long, her heart barely stirred. Witch… What an annoying title.

Wenger decided to head back. It was getting late, though the sun was still high. Strolling home, she’d start cooking. Should she eat alone or invite others? Musing, she walked a path near the lake. Fallen leaves rolled, rustling crisply.

She clearly saw two figures squatting ahead. Too familiar. One big, one small, doing who-knows-what. Even from behind, Vick exuded a sense of security. As if sensing her, he turned sharply, their eyes meeting with a smile. Viyi turned, grinning, oblivious to their silent exchange. “Teacher—look! Mr. Vick agreed to come with us!”

Wenger was speechless. Us? Sure, she’d made a deal with her student, but who’d have thought she’d find Vick, off fishing somewhere? She’d called him “uncle” before—how was she so polite now? Vick was pulled closer by the girl, who then let go to hug Wenger. Patting her head, Wenger looked at Vick helplessly.

He shrugged. “Viyi said Miss Wenger invited me.” Hm? So that’s how it was—she’d spin Viyi like a top for this. “If that’s the case…” Wenger’s words were cut off as Viyi pitifully shook her arm. “Is it dangerous?” Vick interjected. “…Not sure.” “Let’s talk later.” Meaning, discuss when the kid wasn’t around.

Viyi didn’t fuss, likely wondering if she could mooch a meal. Further along, the path split toward Vick’s simple lakeside cabin. Out of courtesy, Wenger invited him to eat at her place. It wasn’t an excuse—she had no expectations of him doing anything for her. It was just mutual aid.

She used to think Vick’s strength was like a mountain. Only after reaching the fourth tier did she realize it was the gap between a seedling and the sky. Was every step’s difference this vast? The game’s stat scaling was ridiculous… Grumbling, she naturally set up a table under the giant tree.

“Need help?” “Guests don’t cook. Besides,” Wenger turned, smiling with a tilt of her head, “can Mr. Vick cook?” His silence answered that. As she cooked, she remembered her seasonings were tuned to her taste from another world. Vick hadn’t commented last time, but she’d forgotten again. Would going out now seem unprofessional?

Pondering, she leaned out, only to find Viyi wasn’t outside—just Vick, sitting quietly. Kids were such a hassle. Though now, with just the two of them, it was the perfect chance, not awkward. Yet, it felt odd. Vick looked up, meeting her eyes. Wenger froze, unsure whether to retreat or hold his gaze, stuck in limbo.

“Something wrong?” Vick asked, leaping onto the platform, a step away from her. “Nothing…” She edged back into the room, scooping a spoonful. “Just wondering if it’s too bland or salty for you.” He’d reached the kitchen door, pausing at her words, hesitant, but tasted it under her expectant gaze. “It’s all good.” Unknowingly, they stood close.