I was not sure if Kishirra’s goddess had anything to do with it, but Mom wrapped her business up quite quickly, and what mattered even more, she stopped teasing me about my intentions about the Elf.

Even if I might have had a crush – and I did not – it wasn’t her business.

We stepped out in the garden, picking up the right plants and flowers.

“We would soon be out of nightshale,” Mom huffed, running her fingers over the tiny white flowers. “We would need to go and buy some more at the market.”

I stiffened.

“What a fantastic idea.” I quickly snipped more dragroot for the mixture. “I’ll be here to plant the new seeds as soon as you went buy them, Mom!” I gave her a winning smile – and she replied rolling her eyes.

“That was not really what I had in mind.”

“I do want to help, you know it. But I am no good at bartering. Or haggling. Or buying stuff, really.” Or talking to people. Or looking at them in the eyes. Or ask them for anything.

Kishirra was, once again, the one exception.

Even back in my previous life, just the thought of standing in a room full of people would send shivers running down my spine. I kept reliving pieces of my conversation in my head like running through possible branches in a visual novel, but they would never bring anywhere. And I had yet to find any viable undo hotkey.

Damn, even after almost twenty years, I found ways to miss the internet.

Besides, even if I tried to do it myself, nothing would change. I was not even supposed to be here... to live in this new world.

We finished roughing up the base ingredients, and we poured the admixture in a bowl, while Mom got the fire ready, in the small terracotta oven in the middle of the garden. Thankfully, this was a far cry from the ancient furnace. Far more manageable.

I put the admixture in and shut the metal door, while the flames raged and did their job, turning every seed and flower and leaf into cinder.

“I’ll take care of the ashes, Mom. You can go check on your notes if you want.” She did look a little tired. I bet she had forsaken sleep once again last night.

“I know I can,” she replied with an affectionate look. “But keep in mind your father and I are not eternal. One day you will have to run this place on your own. Or whatever else you want to do. And that will require talking to people.”

“I’ll think about it,” I lied, sitting in front of the oven.

I watched Mom walk back through the garden towards her office, and I pulled my legs towards my chest as I waited. Sitting like this and waiting was dangerous, especially so far away from my room.

All I could do was fidget and try to numb myself to the pangs of anxiety, already nipping at my chest.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

“If only… ugh, I don’t even know.”

Maybe I could just stand up for a moment and snitch one of my books. Even read it all over again (turned out in this world there were far less books in circulation) in front of the oven.

But experience had taught me to never leave an open fire alone for an instant, so I kept watching the burners.

It was my duty – sort of like what Madama Kishirra did, wasn’t it?

To be there.

Even if it was a bit of a silly comparison.

To think that she was out there, fighting and doing all she could, while I was too scared to look people in the eyes. Seriously, we couldn’t be more different. There was just no way I could even begin to hope for…

Nevermind.

In another life, I could have distracted myself into numbness, while all I could do right then was listening to the flames as they crackled and popped and the soft rumbling of leaves and the creaking of boughs.

“It isn’t that easy, Mom... in this or in any other life.”

+++

Those three days did not pass quick. I spent all time I could helping my father with Madama Kishirra’s plates. Thankfully we managed to pull them out of the furnace by the end of the second night, so hot that air broiled over them in wriggling vapour. I personally helped Dad sew and bolt them back into her protective gear, so that they could protect her at least for a while longer. I shuddered thinking of what kind of impact could shatter one of these plates. Sure, they were not nearly as resistant as properly-made materiel, but I remembered him testing this second-rate, makeshift tetrarmide a few years ago. He produced a nail-thin plate out of the stuff, set it on the floor and hit it with a mattock.

It did not even chip.

But I was mostly worried about her bones. Kishirra’s body must be made of iron if she could resist this kind of blows, over and over. Then again if the rest of her body was like what I had seen…

“Aren’t you a little too hot?” Asked my father, taking off his glove and touching my forehead. “You’re flushed. Are you sure you’re not coming down with a flu as well?”

“I’m fine!” I squealed, a little too fast. “I’m just focused, that’s all. Let’s continue.”

And thankfully he dropped it.

When Madama Kishirra came back to take her repaired brigandine, I waited for her in the garden. I kept fidgeting, for some reason. Why would I be nervous seeing her again? She was our best customer after all. Maybe I was just a little worried about how she fared during these past few days. It seemed she always pushed herself to the brink. But she would be satisfied with our hard work, for sure. I was so worried with checking every detail that I did not notice her stepping inside.

“Am I late?” Oh god she was there already!

“Not at all, I was just…” and my voice trailed off. I had never seen her like this, wearing a simple linen cloth that hugged her slender waist. At any other time I would have blushed, but Kishirra’s dark skin was covered by too many swollen marks to worry about anything else. It was worse than the last time. Forget about not coming to greet her at the door, she had to take care of herself first!

“Starless night,” I swore in a whisper, reaching out to her across the garden, taking her arms in my hands with little regard for proper behaviour. “Madama Kishirra, your arms, your… are you alright? I have never seen you like this.”

“It’s nothing,” she said, trying to downplay her injuries as she always did. “Sometimes things do get a little more intense than usual, that is all.” She tilted her head. “Can I get my armour now?”

“S-Sorry if I insist,” I replied, letting go at once. “But I think you should take better care of yourself. What if you sustain a serious wound and find yourself all alone out there? Who will you call for help?”

“I always know Who to call upon for help,” she said with a half-smile.

I sighed, going back to the rack where I had her renovated armour exposed. She might believe her faith would be enough to shield her, but when she was battered and bruised like that it was hard to think it was nothing but delusions.

Why was she so hell-bent on this quest of hers, anyway? Nobody even knew what she was actually doing, and most of Bùrian residents only knew her as the weird woman who had come from Madua. I doubted they would offer a kind word.

“I know you think so.” How could I put this in a way that still sounded respectful? “But please take yourself into consideration a little more. If you get too many injuries, what will happen? I don’t want to lose my best customer.”

I wanted to reach out to her. It felt like she was fading off into the distance. How could I make her understand?