The small house settled into a quiet calm after the flurry of tears and embraces. Outside, the sun was beginning its slow dip, casting long amber streaks through the cracks in the wooden shutters. Dust motes floated lazily in the warm glow, the kind of stillness that came only after a storm of emotions.
Nicole let out a long breath, steadying herself as her gaze shifted from her son's retreating figure to Melina. The two women stood in the main room, the air thick with unspoken questions. For a moment neither said anything, listening instead to the faint laughter of the children outside—the sound of Clara fussing, Elise squealing, and Leon's deeper voice weaving between theirs.
It should have been a comforting sound. Yet Nicole's eyes lingered on Melina's flushed cheeks, her trembling hands. She frowned softly, not in accusation, but in worry.
"Melina," Nicole said at last, her voice low and carrying the weight of both relief and suspicion. "There's something… I should ask you."
Melina stiffened, fingers knotting in her dress. She forced a smile, but her heart thumped faster. "Of course, Nicole. What is it?"
Nicole stepped closer, her expression softening. "What really happened today? When I left this morning, Leon couldn't even move a finger. And now…" She shook her head, her lips twitching as though she dared not believe it. "Now he's walking around as though he's never been hurt."
Silence stretched between them, heavy and fragile. Nicole's brows drew together, and she let out another sigh, deeper this time. Her hand brushed against the worn fabric of her hemp dress, as though seeking courage.
"Melina…" she began again, her voice gentler now, almost ashamed. "I know the medicine must be expensive. You've done more for Leon than I could ever repay—feeding him, tending to him, keeping him alive when I thought I might lose him." She paused, swallowing hard before continuing. "We are low on money now but I promise to pay you."
Melina froze, her lips parting but no words coming. She had treated Leon's wounds, yes—washed his body, cleaned his cuts, kept him alive through fever and pain. But heal him? That had not been her doing. Even now, she could not explain how the boy who had been broken and bedridden in the morning was standing tall and strong by evening.
Her hands twisted in her apron as she forced a small, uncertain smile. "Nicole… I—I didn't heal him," she admitted quietly. "I went out for a while, and when I came back… he was already on his feet. Maybe…" Her eyes flicked toward the door where Leon had gone, her voice faltering. "Maybe we should ask him."
Meanwhile, Leon found a patch of green grass just outside the small house.
"Come on, sit," he said with a faint smile, patting the grass beside him.
He watched as they sat down slowly, Elise clinging to his side while Clara folded her hands neatly in her lap. That's when the detail struck him—something he hadn't paid close attention to before. Elise's hair, soft and wavy, was the same warm brown as Nicole's. Clara's straight black locks must have come from their father.
And then there was him with silver hair.
'Adopted…definately adopted' he thought. He decided to ask his mother or now step-mother later.
"I'm sorry for making you worry," Leon said, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. His sheepish smile made him look more like a mischievous child caught sneaking bread than someone who had just scared them half to death.
Elise sniffled, still holding onto his arm. "You better be sorry," she mumbled, her voice muffled against his sleeve. "I thought you were going to leave us…"
Clara huffed, giving him a sharp look—but her lips twitched at the corners. "Honestly, Leon, what were you thinking?"
With a crooked smile, he shrugged. "I guess I wasn't thinking."
Clara crossed her arms, raising a brow. "Figures. You've always been better at jumping headfirst than using your head."
That earned a small laugh from Elise. Leon leaned back on the grass, feigning a wounded look. "Ouch. Do my own sisters really think I'm that hopeless?"
"Yes," Clara and Elise answered at the same time, then looked at each other and burst into laughter.
Leon could only shake his head, grinning despite himself. "I'm doomed, aren't I? Two against one."
The laughter slowly faded, and his grin softened. He studied their faces for a moment, then asked quietly, "How are you doing?"
The question caught them off guard. Their smiles faltered, the playful light in their eyes dimming. Clara's fingers stilled where they had been tugging at the grass. Elise pressed closer to Leon, clutching his sleeve like it was a lifeline.
Clara sighed, her voice heavier than before. "We've… been managing. But it hasn't been easy." She glanced at Elise, then back at him. "Mother had to borrow money just to keep us afloat. "Elise and I have been taking extra shifts to help out, but…" Clara hesitated, frustration flickering in her eyes. "The taxes are still due. They gave us until next week, or they'll take the land."
Elise's small shoulders slumped, and her fingers fidgeted nervously in Leon's sleeve.
"And that hateful Harold," Clara added through gritted teeth, "asked his father not to help Mother. He said she should manage on her own."
The weight of their words sank into Leon, his stomach tightening. He could see the fear and exhaustion in their eyes, the burden they had been carrying silently.
Leon's fists clenched without him realizing it, the mention of Harold sending a surge of fury through his veins. His jaw tightened, the tension coiling inside him like a spring ready to snap.
"That bastard," he muttered under his breath, voice low but dangerous.
He leaned closer to Clara and Elise, his tone softening slightly but still carrying steel.
"Don't worry, everything is going to be alright. Leave everything to me," he assured them, pulling Clara and Elise into a tight hug.
Elise nuzzled into his chest, still sniffling, while Clara let out a long, shaky breath, resting her forehead against his shoulder. For a brief moment, the weight of their worries seemed to ease, replaced by the quiet warmth of trust and protection.
Then an idea struck him. Clara. She was skilled in the kitchen, and while the meals at home were functional, they lacked creativity or flavor. If I can give her a simple, tasty dish from Earth, something villagers have never tried… we could make a quick profit.
[FILTER APPLIED: Low-Cost, Easy Recipes]
Sweet Spiced Apple Porridge – 8 L.E.P
Ingredients: Oats/barley, chopped apples, honey, pinch of herbs.
Hand-Pulled Wheat Noodles in Herb Broth – 10 L.E.P
Ingredients: Wheat flour, water, salt, wild herbs.
& Nut Flat-cakes – 9 L.E.P
Ingredients: Wheat/barley flour, dried fruit scraps, nuts, water.
Root Vegetables – 7 L.E.P
Ingredients: Carrots, parsnips, turnips, honey, salt.
Leon purchased Hand-Pulled Wheat Noodles in Herb Broth because it was the only dish he had a clear idea how to make.
Ding!
Immediately, new information surged into his mind—ingredients, measurements, the rhythm of kneading, the precise pull of the dough, the timing of boiling, and even the subtle tricks to bring out the fragrance of the herb broth. It was as if he had practiced the recipe a hundred times before.
But just as quickly, another realization struck him.
Clara.
She couldn't read.
That did not deter him; he was determined to teach her.
"Hey, sis, I need a favor," Leon said suddenly.
Clara turned her head, narrowing her eyes at him. "What kind of favor?"
He scratched his cheek, pretending to look sheepish. "I… woke up with these strange memories. I don't know if they're real or just dreams, but they feel clear.Like recipes for weird dishes that I have never seen, so i thought maybe you could try to make one to see if it is true."
Clara raised an eyebrow, her suspicion plain. "Recipes from a dream? Leon, are you serious?"
He nodded earnestly. "Completely serious. They're so clear it's… strange. I don't want to forget them, and since you're the one who actually knows her way around a kitchen, I thought you could try one. If it turns out edible, maybe it wasn't just a dream."
Seeing his serious face, Clara finally sighed and nodded. "Alright… tell me then."
Leon leaned closer, step by step, he explained the recipe—how to knead the dough, stretch the strands, boil them, and serve with herbs. Clara listened carefully, repeating the instructions under her breath as though committing them to memory.
To Leon's surprise, she caught on almost immediately. Each detail he gave, she repeated back with near-perfect recall. He blinked, a little stunned. So she really does have the knack for this…
The door creaked open, and Melina and Nicole stepped out, still talking in low voices, their words followed by soft laughter and knowing smiles. He could tell they were gossiping.
"It is time to go, Leon. I've discussed with Melina—you'll stay here until we're sure you're completely fine," Nicole informed him gently.
Leon nodded, his heart warmed by her concern even as he wished he could follow.
They hugged tightly, the kind of embrace that spoke of both love and reluctance. The goodbyes stretched longer than they needed to, promises of "we'll come back soon" and "take care of yourself" exchanged again and again before Nicole finally led Clara and Elise toward the door.
Leon stood there quietly until their silhouettes vanished at the end of the path. He sighed deeply and with a heavy heart walked back to the hut.