Satin had finally harvested the scallions. The bundle was so large, it couldn’t be held in both arms.
A wave of emotion washed over him. As he brushed the dirt off the scallion roots, Satin reflected.
‘It’s been a long, grueling road.’
When he had first planted them, Satin thought scallion farming would be easy. Not that he underestimated it—just that, without deer or wild boars around here, he figured as long as he weeded regularly, the harvest would come without much trouble.
But urban areas had their own kind of pests. Crows.
When Satin first saw two crows perched on the garden plot, he wasn’t worried. He even found it pleasant, thinking they might be welcome visitors.
He shouldn’t have been so relaxed. The baby crows must’ve pegged Satin as a pushover, because they kept coming back, devouring his scallions every chance they got. His little scallion patch was ravaged in no time. It felt like he’d become the owner of a struggling meat buffet right after a wrestling team had rolled through.
‘Damn birds.’
Thankfully, he had time to replant. When he sowed the second batch of scallions, Satin came fully prepared. He put up an elaborate scarecrow and even installed a trap that made noise when touched.
There was one incident where the lady next door triggered the trap and got so startled she fell on her butt—but regardless, the scallions were safe.
—Hero, is something wrong? Did something happen to the scallions?
While Satin was lost in reverie, cradling the bundle of scallions, the spirit in his pocket piped up.
—Don’t worry. Just go to the Grand Temple, reveal your identity, and order them to bring scallions. Believers from all over the country will come offering scallions at your feet. You could live on scallions forever. So don’t cling to such pitiful little scallions.
“My scallions are pitiful? Want me to bury you with the roots?”
—Aah! N-No! That wasn’t my intention at all, Hero! I simply misread your feelings. I was only trying to flatter you, I swear I didn’t actually think your scallions were pitiful! I’m serious, Hero, really! Aah—!
Satin stuck the Sacred Relic into the garden and went back inside.
Today, Cain was supposedly headed to a ranch. He said he was escorting a wealthy client scouting the area near Cloverland for land to build one.
“Are they planning to raise cows or horses?”
Satin had grown quite accustomed to life in Cloverland by now. He had a rough sense of where the local food came from, and most of the dairy products were sourced from ranches near Daisyland. It wasn’t too far, but transport costs probably added up.
If a ranch were built closer to Cloverland, milk and cheese might become more affordable. As he pondered what ingredients would be needed to make ice cream with fresh milk, Satin trimmed his scallions.
‘This should be enough.’
For the ones he wouldn’t use right away, he just shook off the dirt and wrapped them in paper. There was a spot in the kitchen that didn’t get any sunlight and had good ventilation—he stored all his vegetables there, including the scallions.
Next, he pulled out a mixing bowl and poured in some flour and starch. Not too much—just enough to cover the bottom. He added cold water and mixed it carefully to avoid lumps, then a pinch of salt and a bit of oil.
Once the batter was done, he looked around for ingredients to mix in. Scallions alone would be tasty, but a bit of umami would elevate the flavor.
‘No squid, obviously.’
He pulled out some dried shrimp he’d bought earlier from a shelf. The fingernail-sized shrimp weren’t too hard, so eating them with the shells on wasn’t a problem. He lightly crushed them and stirred them into the batter.
With the prep nearly finished, Satin suddenly remembered the Sacred Relic he’d buried in the garden.
‘That thing’s probably repented enough by now.’
He wiped his hands and went out to the garden—then immediately slapped his forehead.
—MREEEEEOW! MRRRAAAGH! MROWK!
Half-buried in the soil, the spirit was screeching like a cat.
Whatever it meant, it must’ve sounded convincing, because every neighborhood cat had gathered. Mreow, mrowk, nyaak, miak. They cried out in all sorts of weird cat noises. If this kept up, the local paper might actually come out to cover it.
Satin strode forward and yanked the Sacred Relic out of the dirt. Startled cats scattered in every direction as the spirit called out in an excited voice.
—Ah! You’ve finally returned! I’ve been observing the cats in the area this whole time. Very quietly, I assure you.
“Yeah, right. If those were quiet cats, hell must be hosting a silent disco.”
Satin replied with a disinterested grunt and, before the spirit could spew more nonsense, he violently shook the Sacred Relic in his hand. That was the true might of a high-dimensional Viking.
The spirit groaned in torment.
—A-a-a-ahhh, I’m dizzy!
“Feeling clear-headed now?”
—Crystal clear! I swear I’ll never cross you again, Hero. Now, you’ll forgive me and give me a nice, thorough wash, won’t you?
The moment the spirit said that, there was a knock at the front gate. Reflexively turning, Satin spotted Cain on the other side of the low fence, scowling.
Cain didn’t wait to be asked about his expression—he stormed inside and barked out,
“What the hell did that thing just say?”
“What thing?”
“It asked you to wash its body. Has it said crap like that to you before?”
Would body even be the right term here?
Satin stared at the Sacred Relic—a glorified souvenir, really—and replied belatedly.
“I think… this is the first time.”
Cain didn’t even let him finish. He snatched the Sacred Relic away and headed inside. Then he went straight to the kitchen and started filling a basin with water.
—Is your friend going to wash me? I would be honored. I hope he uses a gentle—AAHH!
Cain ignored the spirit’s chatter and scrubbed the Sacred Relic with the coarsest scouring pad he could find.
“How dare you make such lewd demands to Satin.”
Even if a spirit resided within, the object itself was still just a mass-produced souvenir from the Grand Temple. Scrubbing it that hard could leave scratches on the surface—maybe even strip the plating.
Still, Satin let it happen. So what if it got a few scratches? It wasn’t its real body anyway.
—Waaaaaaaaaahhhh!
The spirit sobbed like a child. Listening to it groan so pathetically tugged at Satin’s conscience. He stepped up behind Cain and asked,
“Hey, how old are you? You didn’t just pop into existence when we first met, right?”
It had only been a few months since they fought the spirit near the Rocky Mountains close to the capital. If the spirit had been born then, it wouldn’t even be a year old yet.
If all that childish talk came from being literally young, wasn’t this kind of treatment a bit harsh?
But Satin’s concern was in vain.
—My age? I’ve existed as long as this world itself! I’m older than any mortal—AAHH!
Satin dunked the Sacred Relic into the dishwater.
***
Cain enjoyed the scallion pancake. When asked how it was, he said it tasted good. But Satin wasn’t convinced.
“Was it really good?”
He narrowed his eyes and asked again. Cain tilted his head and replied once more.
“It was good.”
“Compared to the other ones you’ve eaten, was it the best?”
“Not that good. I liked the one with chicken in it better.”
Apparently, the age-old rule that foreigners love samgyetang also held true in other worlds. If that was the case, he’d probably enjoy bulgogi too—though Satin hadn’t managed to find soy sauce yet. He’d heard of a region that used something similar, like fish sauce, but wasn’t sure how soybean-based sauces would fare.
‘First, let’s just perfect the scallion pancake.’
Satin gazed thoughtfully at the back of Cain’s head as he did the dishes.
“What else do you think I should add?”
“Meat.”
“You think meat would make it better?”
Cain seemed annoyed by the Sacred Relic floating in the dishwater and fished it out before answering with a simple, “Yeah.”
“Then I’ll try adding meat tomorrow. I think ground pork would work well.”
“You’re gonna make it again tomorrow?”
“Yeah, I need to practice if I want to sell it.”
“…Sell it?”
Cain spun around with wide eyes before Satin had even finished his sentence. He looked like a customer at a fully booked restaurant who’d just been told his reservation didn’t exist.
Satin mentally kicked himself.
‘Did I forget to mention that part?’
He rolled his eyes, trying to find the softest way to explain. He started with a sheepish smile.
“Well, I heard something interesting the other day…”
“What kind of something?”
Cain stepped forward, not even bothering to dry his wet hands. Satin glanced at the water droplets hitting the floor. He wanted to nag, but that could wait.
“They’re opening a night market soon. You might’ve heard about it—merchants setting up stalls to sell things like alcohol and snacks.”
“To sell?”
“You know how Cole’s parents run a store, right? But apparently, they’re not participating this time. So there’s an open spot.”
“An open spot?”
“They said… if anyone around was interested in joining, they’d be willing to give the spot to them…”
His voice trailed off awkwardly. Water dripped steadily from Cain’s hand. The poor scouring pad was crushed and misshapen.
Satin quietly got to his feet.
“Where did I put the mop…”
“You’re just gonna walk away in the middle of this conversation?”
“There’s water all over the floor. I should clean it up first…”
It was a flimsy excuse, and he knew it. The truth was, Satin couldn’t quite understand what was going on here. He had the right to do what he wanted. It wasn’t like he was committing a crime—he just wanted to sell some scallion pancakes. What was the big deal? Cain always seemed to go overboard with this protectiveness.
The more Satin thought about it, the more unfair it felt. He straightened up and spoke firmly.
“You seem to keep forgetting—I’m an adult. And I’m older than you.”
“I know.”
“Then why do you hate it so much when I try to do things on my own? Do you not want me going outside? Or… would you rather I couldn’t do anything without your help?”
Cain fell silent.
‘Now would be the time to say no!’
