Chapter 12

“It’s completely hardened.”

I picked up the Mangdung Fruit that had been drying in the cabin's yard.

“…And it’s not yellow, either….”

The shine, with its glossy metallic luster, truly gave off a color like that of gold.

Its size, weight, and shape all looked just like an ugly piece of gold dust.

“Just when did I start walking the path of an alchemist.”

It was fascinating that the plump, juicy red fruit had changed like this.

“Is the color similar to sunlight, perhaps.”

The fruit, hardened enough to be ground into powder, didn't look like food.

But knowing that it could be made into medicine, I tilted my head in wonder as I put all the dried fruits into a glass jar.

Coming inside the cabin, I received help from the System for the first time in a while.

“Seeking a knowledgeable friend who can tell me how to make Blood Dumplings.”

Elixir Recipe: A good medicine for bleeding and its recovery can be made by grinding the fully dried fruit into a powder, mixing it with the juice of a Rurupu to make a dough, forming it into dumplings, and drying them in a dark place for over a week.

“Right, that knowledgeable friend was right here. It was a well-founded confidence.”

Today's content.

Making Blood Dumplings, good for recovering from bleeding.

“Ta-da.”

Wasting time on productive work was a very enjoyable thing to do.

For me, who liked to make and grow things, such tasks were not bothersome at all.

‘To be in a cabin where the sunlight leisurely streams in, making dumplings with my hands.’

It hit my preferences exactly.

I took the ingredients and headed to the workshop.

“I'm not going to paint, but there's no better place than this for working.”

As the workshop was quite spacious, as long as I carefully avoided the paints, I could make full use of the workbench. I placed all the ingredients on the workbench I had cleaned beforehand.

“…….”

After washing my hands, I hesitated.

“…Should I just grind it into a powder like I did when making pigments? Is this the narrow-minded thinking of an art teacher who has only handled art supplies? But though it’s called a ‘dried fruit,’ it’s almost as hard as a mineral….”

Caught in a moderate panic, I unknowingly fiddled with the dried fruit.

Surprisingly, a sense of calm washed over me.

“It's warm.”

The sun always shone brightly in the forest where the days were continuously clear.

As could be felt from its cozy color, the warmth of the sun could also be felt from the well-dried Mangdung Fruit.

It wasn't just a simple warmth on the skin; there was a gentle heat that seemed to seep into the blood vessels within.

“This is the power of a sun-dried fruit…. Amazing.”

My heart, having received that energy, began to beat leisurely and clearly, just like during a lazy afternoon nap.

It felt as gentle as rolling around in a blanket filled with the scent of sunshine.

“…….”

Bang—!!

I slammed the hammer down.

“It's harder than I thought.”

Slam, crack!

“From next time, I shouldn't dry them whole like this….”

Cruuunch….

“Should I grind them first and then dry them.”

Snap, thud.

“But then it would be hard to trap all the juice inside like this.”

With a dull sound, the fruit that had been as hard as a mineral shattered.

“…….”

This should be enough.

‘Let’s put it in a bowl and grind it.’

I nodded my head.

I was someone who made pigments using all sorts of hard things, from gems to bark.

Naturally, the bowls would get scratched or broken, so I had made several in advance to prepare for such cases.

Among them, I brought a particularly clean glass bowl and began to crush the fruit.

Griiind, grrrind.

“My, what is this hardness….”

Even though I had broken it into small pieces, it made a sound that made me think, ‘Is this right?’

No matter how I thought about it, it seemed true that I had awakened as an alchemist.

‘Do I need to make a millstone later?’

Judging by this insane hardness, it was possible that I had dried it for too long.

“I might have been complacent, thinking that the forest's ingredients don't spoil.”

One of the characteristics of this forest was that foodstuffs and crops would neither wither nor spoil.

It was the same with cooking.

A world where food never gets moldy; it seemed like it would be the dream of every chef.

But with this fruit, I learned for sure that this state does not last indefinitely.

The Mangdung Fruit, left for a long time, did not spoil, but it continued to dry in that state and had become excessively hard.

“…….”

Is that why it came to hold a warmer energy?

‘…I’ll have to think about this a bit more. I’ll only know what results come from insisting on a certain method by trying it myself.’

A gentle warmth that couldn't be felt in ordinary fruits was felt from the dried fruit.

Recalling that it had been an ordinarily dried fruit until about a week ago, it certainly seemed to have its own unique characteristic.

Anyway, it was funny and nice. Now I could go around saying I had transmuted gold.

“This should be enough.”

Sshhh….

It was a moist powder.

“It looks just like snow.”

The kind of snow that clumps together well.

It was dried so intensely that I thought it couldn't possibly be any drier, so where was this subtle moisture coming from?

Perhaps there was no moisture at all, and I was mistaken due to the strangely sticky, powdery texture.

“…Hmm.”

When I tasted a bit of the powder, I felt my body warming up and a sweetness spread across my tongue.

“…….”

I blinked twice.

“…It would be delicious if I add it when baking.”

In the past, when sugar was precious, commoners were said to have used powdered chestnuts found on the roadside instead of expensive sugar or strongly scented honey.

They said its nutty flavor and subtle sweetness went well with various foods and they even made crêpes with it.

“There's no reason I can't do it.”

The powder of the Mangdung Fruit, fully ripened in the sunlight, had almost lost its original sourness, leaving only the rich sweetness characteristic of dried fruit.

The sweetness was very intense, but it also had a clean taste like grains or eggs.

It was something I hadn't felt when eating a freshly picked Mangdung Fruit, to the point where I wondered, ‘Is this perhaps the taste of the sun?’

“The fruit's unique flavor might be too strong to use in meals, but it would suit sweet pastries like crêpes or madeleines topped with whipped cream or ricotta cheese. It would go well with the cool lemon scent of the Mangdung Fruit, too.”

One could be called a true pig only when one thought of food while washing, eating, and sleeping. In that sense, I was indeed a pig.

“I should dry them in advance.”

The Mangdung Fruit, packed with pulp, was even more so with moisture.

Should I say it felt like drying a Kyoho grape-sized jelly?

‘If I want to use this powder for cooking too….’

It seemed wise to dry a large quantity in advance.

‘Since it will take quite a bit of time.’

After turning all the fruits into powder, I lifted the glass jar.

“I might fail, so let's put most of it away and then try. A person must always live with failure in mind. That is the shortcut to a long life.”

I left only enough powder to make a sphere smaller than a marble sold at a stationery store.

After organizing all the Mangdung Fruit powder, I lifted the jar next to it. Inside, something shimmered with depth, like a transparent galaxy.

“…….”

It was the juice of the Rurupu, the flower of the spring, which I had made a while ago.

“…Of course, it wouldn't have spoiled….”

The Rurupu juice in the glass jar somehow resembled the spring where it had grown.

Should I say it was similar to water that held the sunlight?

Or should I say it held a slightly warm moonlight?

The juice of the Rurupu, which had materialized the light it had held in its body its entire life to make its own blood, was difficult to describe as merely water with glitter in it.

‘…It really looks like a galaxy. I wonder if this is what it would feel like if the Milky Way was reflected on the shallow water of the white wood spring.’

Perhaps because it was so visually pleasing, after staring at it for a long while, I finally muttered.

“It's beautiful.”

I dropped the Rurupu juice onto the pestle filled with the finely ground powder.

I had only dropped a few drops, but the powder was soon thoroughly soaked, turning a deep golden color.

The powder, combined with the cool blueness unique to the Rurupu that gave a sense of moisture, had a strangely chilly aspect.

“…It looks like wet gold dust.”

After a moment of thought, I pressed the powder here and there, then soon brought it to my hand and gently rolled it.

The attempt was timid, so it was very small, but a dumpling was completed nonetheless.

“…….”

It looked just like a bead made of real gold.

“……?”

Shouldn't this be called a Gold Dumpling instead of a Blood Dumpling?

“Well, anyway.”

Having gotten a feel for the moisture of the powder and the wetness of the juice, I proceeded to make the dumplings one by one.

Perhaps thanks to my experience of tearing and eating sujebi and making honey rice cakes at home, some pretty decent dumplings came out.

I was able to make a total of 15 dumplings.

“…….”

I felt a momentary sense of emptiness that all the Mangdung Fruit powder I had painstakingly ground was used up. Life was bitter.

There was a subtlety of life in this.

“…But there's still juice left.”

Since the powder itself was quite moist, I couldn't use up all the Rurupu juice, which spread with absurd ease.

In the end, I had consumed not even half a jar, but only about a third.

“What should I do with this.”

It was at that very moment, as I was pondering this.

“…….”

“…….”

“Uh….”

My eyes met with a water bird that was sitting by the workshop window.

“Uh, wait a minute.”

Click clack clack!!

“No.”

Splat—!!

The Rurupu juice was stolen.

“…….”

What is this.

The sight of a water bird puffing up its body to its fullest and enveloping the large glass jar with its whole body.

“……??”

I was flustered by its greedy form, which looked just like a slime that would appear in a game.

“What are you going to use that for.”

The sight of it swallowing a jar three times its own short and stout body was amusing, but I was genuinely curious as to why it was doing this.

“What on earth did you show such proactiveness for when you can't even swallow it all.”

Clatter….

“This isn't something that can be solved by being stubborn, I'm telling you the glass jar is bigger than your body.”

Clatter!

“Do you see this part of the jar sticking out? You see it? I declare, you have the makings of a pig.”

Click!! Claaack!!

“Such a distinct click-clack, what a novel performance art. You are truly my child.”

Mainly the part about being mind-bogglingly nonchalant.

It seems genetics can be passed down through paint in this day and age.

“How do you plan to utilize that?”

I wondered what use a water bird could have for that, but the water bird, as if to show me, slipped right into the glass jar.

In the blink of an eye, the water bird was crumpled into the shape of the jar.

“Huh?”

And so, the water bird merged with the Rurupu juice.

“What the….”

“Gurgle.”

“Did you speak?”

“Gurk.”

“You made a sound?”

Did it evolve?

“…….”

As expected, you are my child.

‘Nothing ever goes as expected.’

When I turned the jar upside down and shook it out, the water bird, which had been trying to stick to it tenaciously for some reason, be it pride or something else, soon slid out with a gush.

Sluurp, pop!

Splat—!

“…….”

“…….”

The little guy, which fell with a cute sound like a toy store's liquid monster, was sparkling somewhere, having absorbed a great deal of the Rurupu juice.

“…….”

“Gurk.”

It could talk, and above all.

“…It's warm.”

I could feel warmth.

“What happened.”

“Gurgle.”

“It’s absurd and amusing, but I don’t quite understand this harmony of events.

Life is indeed a series of contents.”

“Grrrgle.”

“Do animals evolve if they drink Rurupu juice? There was no change when I had a sip? Is this discrimination?”

Perhaps it was a change possible only because the water bird was a species born from my hands.

Logically speaking, it was impossible for a creature made entirely of water to gurgle as if it had vocal cords.

“It doesn't seem good for it to grow suddenly, it's not a bad change for its body, is it.”

“Guuurggle.”

“If so, that’s a relief, but….”

I, who was contemplating life is an egg, soon affirmed this entire situation.

‘It’s fun, so that’s all that matters.’

That's right.

In fact, I hadn't been thinking about anything at all.

I successfully concluded all my worries.

“Talking and flying water is truly amazing.”

“Gurgle?”

“Its body color seems to have changed a bit too….”

Its transparent body had turned a pale yellow, like water mixed with gold dust.

The water bird that drank the Rurupu juice must have been one that usually carried gems often, as its sparkling body was filled with yellow and transparent gems.

It went well with the Rurupu's characteristic sparkle that resembled sunlight and moonlight.

“Hmm.”

This coloration, no different in visibility from a yellow sign, could probably be seen even passing by on the KTX.

A creature filled with a brilliant and gentle coloration.

This seemed like it would definitely be a distinguishing feature from the other individuals.

“If it stands out this much, I can give it a name.”

“Kurururuul?”

“You like that? That's a relief.”

Soon, I spoke.

“My Golden Child….”

“…….”

“The moment I said it, I felt that wasn't it. This dad sometimes misspeaks.”

It was the first time I had seen water look so serious.

Even though I was its parent, there were things a parent should and shouldn't say to their child.

The naming sense of "Golden Child" seemed to fall into the latter category.

“…….”

The Seo family, for generations, had no talent for naming.

I put more effort into my brain and seriously racked my head.

“Then how about… Honey.”

“Gurk?”

“Because it's a sweet color.”

The bird, tinged with a warm golden light, resembled the sunlight or moonlight, but it also resembled honey, from which a rich fragrance seemed to flow.

I stroked the slightly squishy and firm golden bird and said.

“This is as far as my naming sense goes.”

“Gurgle.”

“How merciful of you to not dislike it.”

Honestly, I thought it would dislike it because its name was Honey.

‘Does it not know what honey is because the meaning doesn't get through?’

That thought crossed my mind for a moment, but what could I do if it liked it.

I watched Honey, who was squirming back into the glass jar.

“Cute.”

Just watching was healing.

“A cat squished in a box….”

“Grrrrumble.”

“Does the sound get squished when the body gets squished? That's even cuter.”

“Kyuruung.”

“This is the epitome of cuteness.”

As Honey finally squeezed its body into the glass jar, I picked it up.

The strangely lukewarm glass jar was just the right size and felt just like a hot pack.

‘It has a sweet scent, too.’

My mind went blank, like watching a crackling campfire.

“Hmm.”

As I quietly watched the warm and pretty glass jar that smelled sweet, a drowsiness like that of listening to a class after lunch on a spring day washed over me, and I became lethargic.

Eating and sleeping were a pig's duties and Honey seemed to be the same.

“…….”

I put the glass jar inside my outerwear without closing the opening.

“I'll take that as your agreement.”

“Krrng.”

The two of them, like laundry spread out to dry, sprawled out and fell asleep.

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