The Abandoned Saint's Happy Feeding Life - Chapter 9

“…then. I’ll… give it to you.”

A strange voice—neither male nor female.

Heard recently, but whose—couldn’t recall.

Yet felt like a promise was made.

“Ah, your escort has come.”

Dream-Asha tried to see the speaker, but they cut off with that.

“At least a farewell gift. I’ll remove your yoke… Be happy, far-distant land’s shrine maiden.”

What yoke meant—unknown.

But “be happy”—soft, warm.

Like a father to his daughter.

Asha never knew her father.

Died before birth.

Their household—full-family farm work—never matched others’ harvest.

Often, envied strong fathers plowing neighbors’ fields.

Seeing kids climb their dads, protected by a powerful presence, nearly asked, “Why no dad for us?”

Didn’t—knew mother, siblings worked desperately to fill the gap.

Still envied.

Wanted big hands stroking, lifting her.

As a saintess in the army—befriended big knights—but position forbade casual pats.

Wanted big hands stroking.

Gently combing hair.

Like this—head cradled.

(Warm…)

Asha nuzzled the rough yet kind warmth.

(…Dad… Asha’s dad…)

Dreamt of father protecting the family.

Who’d say “Asha doesn’t have to be saintess.”

Protect the family without leaving, without dancing.

Such convenient being—impossible.

Yet this hand stroked her head—very gently.

If not father—what?

Asha forced sleepy lids open.

Blurred vision focused on a gallant profile.

Deep in thought while stroking.

“…Zen-shama…”

He startled—pulled his hand away.

“Hair done… rest more?”

Influenced by dream—craving fatherly warmth, loss of hand saddened her.

Regretful—then timidly, the hand returned.

(Disrespectful to call god “father”? But… humans come from gods… maybe a little indulgence…)

Asha narrowed her eyes at the kindness.

Far more than a little spoiled—but felt this god would allow.

Enjoying the touch, the hand stopped.

“Zen-shama?”

Distant eyes—deep thought.

Serious face.

Words didn’t reach—but if troubled, she wanted to help.

“Zen-shama.”

No response.

(Out of sight…? Or… different language—honorific makes name unrecognizable?)

To solve both, she tried moving, but dance-damaged legs disobeyed.

Worm-like, rolled korori korori to his knees.

“Zen.”

(Too casual—disrespectful?)

Anxious—looked up.

Distant eyes returned.

“Hm?”

Gentle gaze.

“Something wrong? Tell me.”

Warm voice—don’t worry—stroked head again.

(Worried yet considerate to a goblin…!! So kind!! If needed—I’ll step up!!)

Moved—Asha stroked his knee in return.

He softened—smile.

He expects something—convinced, she fired up.

(This body can’t step up!! Rest properly—get up strong!)

Eager—rolled back to pillow, focused recovery.

Asha was sturdy—harsh use, one night sleep—fully recovered.

(…Never bedridden—don’t know how to rest…)

Heal!—head on pillow.

No effect.

(No way… this is boredom!?)

Eyes wide awake—can’t move.

Can move—but moving delays healing.

Every cell brimming with drive—no outlet.

.

Noble lady’s “I hate idleness”—now understood.

Indeed—not fun.

No outlet for surging energy.

“?”

Beside her—god’s orichalcum table placed.

On it—a parchment-sized square black metal plate.

Thickness—fingertip.

Very thin.

Stand behind—self-supporting.

“Hair… later. Watch this…”

Muttering—Zen waved a hand.

Pitch-black metal glowed—shifted to vivid colors.

“!!!”

Asha gasped.

The black plate now reflected a vivid sunrise over mountain valleys.

Overlaying the scene—small crests in red, yellow, light blue, black, green—floating like islands at regular intervals.

Brighter than any fruit she’d seen—each simple yet unique, crafted like artisan seals.

The crests slid left-right at Zen’s touch.

(Thought it was black metal—actually glass, connected to some mountain, crests floating in front, Zen moves them with fingers…?)

Mind couldn’t keep up.

Thought immune to divine miracles—Asha stared, stunned.

Zen touched one crest—mountain vanished, complex diagrams and text-like symbols filled the plate.

Meaningless—but perhaps a pocket Mirror of Truth passed down in royalty.

Said to show anything across time-space—ultimate treasure.

Casually performing human-impossible miracles—impressive.

(As expected of a god…!!)

Asha renewed reverence.

But that was just the prelude.

Pon—Zen tapped—a person appeared inside.

“Fuhooooo!?”

Asha cried out.

(A dwarf!!)

Dwarves lived deep in forests, never showed themselves—she’d wanted to see one.

Rolled korokoro closer, peered.

(Not a child!! Surprise!!)

Assumed small = child, but a cute old lady.

Hair mostly white with black streaks, elegantly tied at the nape; wore sturdy cloth like a pope, white apron over.

Deep wrinkles suggested dignified years.

(Amazing! Tiny grandma—so cute! Outfit is intricate and adorable! Dwarves are stylish!)

Curious about the back—rolled koron—only plate’s rear.

“??”

Confused—rolled back and forth—then enlightened.

(Of course! Mirror of Truth—only front reflects, back shows nothing!)

Decoded god’s world without teaching.

(I’m pretty smart!)

Self-praise.

Tiny grandma spoke gently—image switched pat.

“Howa!”

Grandma is gone—a plate filled with ingredients and a symbol-like list.

(I-Incredible!! Heaps of ground meat, eggs, onions, carrots!! Unknown green veggies!! Noble-level luxury…!!)

Marble-like processed stone table—spotless, no dust.

Ingredients fresh—looked delicious raw.

Especially bug-free meat, clear whites, rich orange yolks—magnificent.

Staring at ingredients—Grandma returned.

Beside her—a neat girl dwarf.

Flat face like earlier subhumans—but rouged cheeks/lips, groomed hair—more charming, intelligent, cleaner than any woman Asha knew.

Far better than powder-ghost noble ladies.

(Grandma dwarf’s daughter… no, granddaughter? Dyeing amazing! Such vivid cloth for an apron—must be dwarf nobility!)

Bright red apron—wealth to use such fabric casually.

Words unknown—but looked like a granddaughter learning to cook.

(Close family—wonderful!!)

Grandma smiled kindly, deftly peeled an onion, and minced.

“Hoaaooo.”

Asha leaned back.

Image zoomed Gugu toward grandma—almost crashed.

But the mirror mage’s skill is perfect—fixed on hands.

“?”

The two dwarves occasionally looked this way.

Can they see us?

(Heard Mirror of Truth only shows far places—this might be different.)

When they looked—waved—no response.

But gentle smiles—not certain they couldn’t see.

Seemed to ask “Understand?”—Asha nodded kokun kokun.

“Fuhooo!”

Lost in thought—Grandma cracked an egg into the meat.

Delicious + delicious = super delicious.

Forbidden fusion.

No outcome but delicious.

Plain meat is already great—adding egg—bold.

Luxurious.

Even if dwarves ate little, this was a wedding-level, rare festive dish.

Not casually taught to grandkid.

And grandma casually grinding—precious spices?

Sautéed translucent onions added.

“That’s definitely delicious!!”

The meat—kneaded momi momi with egg and onion.

Formed into palm-sized patties, sizzling juu juu as they cooked.

Too dazzling for Asha’s eyes.

Saliva overflowed like a broken gland.

Normally, she’d marvel at shifting views, transparent glass-like containers—but couldn’t look away from meat-egg perfection.

Eat-sleep lazy life—stomach shouldn’t be hungry—yet it growled.

Unknowingly returned to the default position, easy viewing posture.

Meat juices overflowed.

Perfect sear with light char.

Tiny grandma skillfully controlled fire—impressive, but consciousness glued to meat.

Before her, rich meat juices became a sauce promising pure umami.

The dwarf girl cheered at the sauce.

(Of course! Of course!! Such a feast—what merit earned this…!!)

Asha nodded vigorously in agreement.

No scent from the mirror—regrettable—but imagination alone made her writhe.

Soon mirror showed a finished meat patty.

“Fuuwaaaa~”

Glossy black sauce coated—shining brilliantly.

Carrots and sides cooked deliciously, drenched in meat-juice umami sauce.

Rising steam evoked piping-hot, delicious meat.

On a white porcelain plate, don—patty dominated.

Knife inserted—juices seeped from the cut, spread over the sauce.

“Hawawawawa…”

Wanted to slurp just the juices.

Saliva poured—swallowing couldn’t keep up.

Bite-sized—fork pierced—juices welled again.

The girl opened her mouth—Asha did too.

Girl hamu—Asha closed—only air taste.

The girl chewed slowly—Asha twisted in envy.

Savoring, swallowed.

“Oishii!”

She said.

The dwarf girl spoke slowly, clearly, and easily to catch.

(“Oishii,” “oishii,” “oishii”…)

Meaning unknown—but surely praise for glorious meat.

Asha swallowed words with saliva.

(Ah… I want to eat that meat and say “oishii”!!)

Throat soaked from excess drool.

Two dwarves chatted happily, ate sides.

Vegetables in meat-juice sauce—how delicious!

Asha mogu mogu mouth with their chewing, only tasteless saliva.

(Wonderful… dwarves live splendidly… or just heaven’s dwarves?)

Then, the woman set down the fork and knife after two bites.

“Eh!?”

Wiped mouth—meal over?

Shocked, Asha, the girl spoke to her.

Grandma only interjected—didn’t touch the meat.

(W-Wait, wait!! The meat!? Not eating more!?)

Leave hot, delicious meat there?

Asha desperately pointed—wanted them to eat while hot.

The woman and grandma waved.

“Not goodbye!! The meat! Forgetting meat!! Eat it!! It’ll be cool! Meat!!”

Words wouldn’t reach—Asha couldn’t stay silent.

Even dwarf-sized—fingernail tip to Asha—she’d chew a hundred times, savor fully.

Grind to a liquid.

Confident—frantic meat appeal—but mirror cut.

White screen—then dwarf babies appeared.

Connection shifted.

Unforgivable—sacred hot meat forgotten.

“The meat… tell the dwarves to eat the meat!!”

Desperately to Zen beside—he nodded deeply.

“Got it. I’ll tell them to finish the hot patties before cold.”

Said something—left room.

Intent reached—Asha sighed in relief.

(Good… averted crisis of supreme hot meat…)

Sense of achievement—closed eyes.

Eyelids burned with a meat-egg masterpiece.

Especially knife moment—juices overflowing—perfect detail.

(Does heaven have currency…? If yes—work hard, save, eat that meat. Even years—I’ll do it!!)

The afterlife goal is set early.

(Of course—work so Zen-sama who fed me delicious things can eat too.)

Asha Mufufu grinned, imagining them eating.

Cook luxurious meat together, and eat the whole patty.

Half each… no—owed him—Asha would take quarter.

Big Zen-sama would surely love it.

Happy delusion—Asha drowsed again.