Chapter 66: A Bitter Taste

A Familiar Figure

Of course, she didn’t mean Vick. Wenger’s thoughts were merely stirred by him. His point about friendship was fair—her formal address was just her habit. On her way to the treehouse, she spotted him standing dazed under a large tree. If she wasn’t home, no amount of waiting would get a response. “Mr. Vick!” she called from afar.

He turned, greeted her, and approached unhurriedly. She waited by the stream. The water flowed quietly, barely moving in the evening light. A faint shimmer gleamed at certain angles, accompanied by soft ripples. “Good evening.” “Good evening!” She smiled, and his reserved grin was equally reassuring.

A Quiet Stroll

In the dim dusk, moonlight hadn’t yet reached the valley. They walked slowly, savoring the unique calm before night. The cornfields were harvested. The yield added little to the [Harvest] skill’s fourth-tier progress. Not a mere +0.01—it was smaller, notifications ignored. Maple Whisper Village’s improving conditions sped up [Harvest]. Now, the bare fields didn’t look bad in the low light.

The village wasn’t a scenic spot, but Wenger was used to it all. Vick wasn’t blind to commoners’ lives—he’d passed through them, aware of the land’s events. This time, though, his stay revolved around her. Their bond was inescapable, more than a simple debt. He didn’t know how to think further, so he stayed silent. They took a detour through the fields, stretching the walk.

Village Lights

Distant, warm lights glowed from the village. Lost? Just head toward the light. Home was always there. As a child, she’d gotten lost in the village, its primitive beauty intact. Her tree was short then, her self-built cabin dark. A young transcendent, she’d feared forest beasts. The return was messy. She chuckled suddenly. Vick noticed but didn’t ask—happy things she’d share; prying into others was rude.

Crickets chirped along the path. Later, even mosquitoes vanished. Such malice! Why design buzzing “bombers” in this world? Perhaps natural evolution. They just resembled mosquitoes. With mana, she didn’t fear them now. But her weakest moments left deep marks. Mocking her past embarrassment, the memory’s taste was unclear.

A Bitter Aura

Walking beside her, Vick sensed a bitter scent from her. Like a scorched pot, ruined with a light scrape. A serene helplessness. She seemed fine but had been adrift for a while. “You okay?” “Hm?” She snapped back, puzzled. Had her expression shown? A goofy look might make him tease her, leaving a weird impression. “All good, then.”

He didn’t know how to ask—saying she smelled bitter sounded creepy. Instead, he mumbled something like “drink more water.” They reached the plaza, the feast well underway. The central bonfire towered higher than a building. Wenger found them a spot—not a corner, as that’d be rude to a guest, but not center either, to avoid hassle. The food reached every seat well enough.

Festive Moments

They watched villagers perform impromptu acts from the sidelines. No planned shows today—Harvest Festival lasted days, not every night elaborate. Still, they enjoyed it. The village’s customs shone through, not needing depth. They felt it, not studied it. Wenger sipped malt ale, asking if Vick wanted some. He declined. Perhaps not his taste? Given his noble status, she recalled the village’s spirits and wines. “The church has mead—want to try?” she offered eagerly.

She hadn’t drunk it in ages, forgetting its taste. Truthfully, she wanted a sip. Vick wondered if leaving now was too early. Sneaking off wouldn’t be noticed, but a girl approached. “Teacher! Mr. Vick!” Viyi popped up, whispering greetings. “Rude, Viyi.” Wenger pulled her close, apologizing for her student’s liveliness. Vick didn’t mind—liveliness was nice.

A Surprising Proposal

“Teacher, you’re drinking?” “Why sit in the corner? Isn’t the center livelier?” “What’re you two talking about?” Viyi chattered on. Wenger’s worries about her were for nothing. Talking magic at noon, yet so spirited tonight. Like herself, vowing to work hard but sneaking novels in study hall. Youth’s angst thrived when a teacher confiscated a book—a moment of despairing relief.

“Quiet down a bit.” “Teacher, why not teach at school? The mayor says I should study.” “I’ll pass, but you should read…” Wenger paused, then realized. “You’re teaching?” “Yeah, Grandpa Rhine says I’ve learned tons from you—more than enough to teach kids!” Ha, ha, ha. Wenger couldn’t laugh. Kids teaching kids? Parents would riot. Thankfully, her reputation in Maple Whisper Village held. But Viyi might ruin her educational legacy.

“How much have you learned?” Teaching already? Incredulous, she asked, “You agreed?” Viyi nodded naturally, gobbling Wenger’s snacks. Vick watched quietly, amused. Life’s simple moments held charm. He wanted to stay. No special reason needed. Besides, without returning to the capital, he had nowhere else.