Editors: sleepchaser, con
“Sig, have you seen Mustard?”
About to start my morning routine of feeding the chickens, I noticed that one hadn’t returned to the pen. I asked Sig about it because he was usually the one who released them.
Sig, who had just finished chopping wood, pointed with his chin. “He’s on the roof.”
Really. On top of the red eaves we’d just repainted, there was a small rooster with his chest puffed up in pride. His feathers shone gold in the morning sun, making him seem divine. He was still only as big as a chick, though.
Our one and only rooster was named Mustard. All the others were given the names of yellow foods, like millet or paprika.
“Mustard, it’s time to eat.”
We’re sorry for MTLers or people who like using reading mode, but our translations keep getting stolen by aggregators so we’re going to bring back the copy protection. If you need to MTL please retype the gibberish parts.
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Two days ago, I started growing lettuce in the field. It was one of the easiest plants to farm, and I only had to take care of sewing the seeds. Needless to say, it was almost effortless. They’re quick to harvest too.
But honestly, I could only think of lettuce being used for salad. For that reason, I saved a portion for the chickens.
Three days had passed since the incident that night.
I persisted in sleeping in the living room every night, using the excuse that I needed to bookkeep. Yes, I was being unreasonably stubborn. Even so, when I woke up in the morning, I would always find myself on the bed. Of course Sig was the one who carried me there; luckily the number of times he bumped my head into anything hadn’t increased.
Sig, who had been getting up early for the past three days to let the chickens out, had always slept naked. However, the night I was attacked by the centipede, I trembled as I asked him to at least put on his underwear. I did my best.
It had been eight days since I got lost in this world, and five days since I lost contact with God.
Since then, I had spent my days in peace with Sig.
Yes, yes, God. “Tender Care Rank B” had also joined the party, with notifications arriving every morning. Even my title for the “Care” category leveled up from “Lovesick” to “Devoted Love.”
…That was a bug, right?
“So cool…” A sigh spilled over my lips as I took in the view of Sig’s stunning back drenched by the waterfall. If I had my sketchbook here, I would definitely make a sketch of the sight.
Well, it’s not like I had the courage to ask for his permission, though.
“Did you say something?”
“No… It’s nothing,” I said, forcing a smile.
Sig returned after washing off his sweat, splashing his way back through the water. Ahh, his chest and ab muscles were also wonderful. What did he do to get that kind of body? I squinted my eyes as I studied my soft chest and belly, dipping my bare feet into the spring.
While the narrow waterfall was only as tall as me, the spring below it was fairly wide and deep. This valuable spring Sig had discovered would allow us to have spring water for free, a great alternative to the well. It was also a good place to wash up after a hard day’s work.
Ever since we had found this place two days ago, we bathed there every day.
“Speaking of which, how old are you, Sig?” I asked, trying to sound as natural as possible. It was a question that had always been on my mind.
The night we had shared our first alcoholic drink, Sig asked for my age. I had told him I was twenty-five years old, a full-grown adult, to which he replied “barely.” Even now, there had been times when he treated me as a child.
Since I already knew the implications of preparing wine, I wanted to know just how large a gap in understanding stood between us.
“If I’m not wrong, I’m forty-five years old,” Sig answered readily.
Forty-five years old, huh? Whaaaat?!
I slipped in surprise, my head sinking underwater. Sig immediately grabbed my arms and pulled me to the surface.
After regaining my footing, I stared at Sig’s pale skin.
God said that Sig had already died. However, he didn’t look like he felt out of place in his current body, and he also had the memories of his life. Even if he had said that he was forty-five years old, the man before me looked the same age as I.
That perfect body belonged to a middle-aged man…?