Chapter – 33
“Cropot, I think we’re out of sugar. Could you refill the jar?”
“Alright.”
“Shasha, I think we can set the table now.”
“Okay!”
She was fourteen now. Although she had grown somewhat, she was still just a child.
Seeing Marie with her long hair tied up in a single bundle, wearing a fluffy apron while slicing smoked duck and boiling soup was deeply uncomfortable to watch.
Of course, Jerome who worked at the poultry shop was thirteen, the girl running errands for a tailor was eleven, and the new newspaper delivery boy who started last week was sixteen, but still…
What if she cuts her hand like that?
Regardless of how the world worked, Cropot didn’t like seeing Marie holding a knife with her small hands. He narrowed his eyes and sat down.
“Cropot, stop frowning. You’ll get wrinkles.”
“I won’t get wrinkles.”
As if she had eyes on the back of her head, Marie calmly pointed that out while making salad. Cropot grumbled.
While placing forks and knives on the table, Shasha joined in.
“Come on, Cropot is getting to that age where he should start worrying!”
“Worry about what?”
“They said people around this age should exercise and eat well!”
Shasha giggled mischievously. Cropot waved his pipe, stirring up a gust of wind.
“Ack!”
“Stop talking nonsense.”
“What? It’s true. You’re already thirty-four!”
Shasha shouted while fixing her messy hair.
Thirty-four. Realizing his age again, Marie turned around with a sentimental expression.
His long loosely tied hair, a white cloak decorated with a blue band, and his flowing clothes.
From his face to his outfit, nothing had really changed, but his atmosphere had changed a lot.
Remembering their first meeting, Marie spoke.
“You were twenty-nine when we first met, right?”
“I was.”
“I was really surprised back then. I thought you were mid-twenties at most.”
As Cropot flicked his finger, the salad bowl moved onto the table. Marie, used to this by now, began serving the soup.
“You’re already thirty-four…”
“Stop saying that.”
“Cropot is an old man!”
Shasha laughed brightly.
Cropot, who didn’t care when they teased him about being in his thirties, froze stiff at the word old man and turned toward Shasha.
“Old man?”
“Yes, Uncle Cropot!”
“I’m not an uncle.”
“You are!”
Cropot’s face quietly filled with despair.
“I said I’m not.”
“Uncle Rick said we shouldn’t just call you Cropot, we should say Uncle Cropot.”
“That’s about honorifics. You should say Mister Cropot.”
“No. Uncle is easier.”
“I told you I’m not an uncle.”
Marie, who had been lost in memories, also started smiling.
She sat at the table with Shasha and picked up her spoon.
“Let’s stop, everyone. We should eat.”
“I’m not an uncle.”
“Cropot, eat before it gets cold. Shasha, eat slowly.”
“Wow, smoked duck!”
And so, leaving behind Cropot’s gloomy face, their warm dinner began.
Thanks to Rick and Jerome, the center of the table was piled high with fragrant smoked duck pieces.
Shasha started stabbing at the food with her fork rapidly, drooling.
“Shasha, how many times have I told you about table manners—”
“It’sh shooo goood!”
“Speak properly. You’re not a baby anymore.”
Even though she was already nine, Shasha’s table manners hadn’t improved at all.
Marie had already given up on that part, so she just sighed and watched Shasha devour the food.
“Sho good!”
“You mean the smoked duck tastes good?”
“Yes!”
“Alright… eat a lot.”
Shasha wasn’t the type to be discouraged by Cropot’s scolding.
Her cheeks puffed out as she chewed.
People say just watching a child eat makes you feel full. Cropot looked away from his disapproving gaze and watched Marie and Shasha eat happily.
Before he knew it, a faint smile appeared on his face.
When Cropot’s knife stopped moving, Marie and Shasha looked at him.
“Cropot, aren’t you eating?”
“I can ead id all myshelf!”
“I am eating.”
Five years had passed, yet the warmth was still the same.
He let out a soft laugh and was about to move his utensils again—
Clatter. Thud.
A familiar noise sounded.
Marie raised her head first, her eyes widening.
“Cropot.”
Creak. Clatter. The sound of old wooden hinges and boards hitting each other.
The vibration from the floor reached them as the familiar noise grew louder.
Cropot stood up.
“Is it the Foramen?”
There had been no consultations recently. That meant the Foramen shouldn’t be activating.
Marie stood up, puzzled.
“Wait here.”
Cropot’s expression wasn’t good. Shasha also sensed something was wrong and put down her fork.
“Why?”
“I’ll go check the Foramen. You two stay in the kitchen.”
“Wait, Cropot!”
But before Marie could stop him, Cropot moved his pipe and teleported away.
Marie sighed and sat back down awkwardly.
After swallowing her food, Shasha asked worriedly:
“Unni, what’s that? Foramen?”
“You heard that loud noise, right? I think the Foramen activated.”
“Huh? But we don’t have any requests.”
Since they began living together, the Foramen had never opened by accident.
Cropot’s illegal Foramen only activated during consultation requests or when hundreds of letters arrived.
Could it be letters?
But it wasn’t the right time yet. More importantly, Cropot’s expression had looked bad.
Feeling uneasy, Marie stared toward the storage room.
Not long after Cropot left, the sound of heavy objects falling echoed repeatedly.
Marie and Shasha jumped to their feet.
Several heavy things crashed. The walls shook. Listening closely, they could even hear the dying cry of an adult man.
Cropot!
Marie’s face turned pale. The children grabbed each other’s hands and rushed out of the kitchen.
“Unni, it’s coming from the storage room, right?”
“Yes. Something must have happened.”
Marie’s heart pounded.
The scream had vanished too quickly to confirm if it was Cropot’s voice, but it was clear a struggle was happening inside.
She decided they couldn’t just wait and returned briefly to the kitchen to prepare.
Shasha put a pot on her head like a helmet and grabbed a ladle.
Marie also grabbed a large frying pan.
“Let’s go.”
The armed children stepped into the hallway.
“…damn… bastard!”
“Wait, stop—”
Marie stopped in front of the storage door and listened.
Cropot’s voice and another man’s voice were tangled together.
They really are fighting!
Her grip tightened on the frying pan.
With a determined expression, Marie flung the storage door open.
“Cropot, are you okay?!”
But what appeared before them wasn’t Cropot or an attacker.
It was a ball of fur.
“Eek!”
A small animal jumped onto Marie. The frying pan clattered to the floor.
“Mariposa!”
Startled, Marie stumbled backward.
Her vision went dark as she waved her hands wildly. Cropot snapped his fingers in panic.
“No! No magic!”
Someone shouted desperately.
Soon Marie’s vision cleared, and she saw the small creature floating in the air.
It was a tiny flying squirrel, suspended by Cropot’s levitation magic.
“You damn Lin brat! Cancel the magic!”
At that moment, the flying squirrel blinked its cute eyes, then suddenly widened them.
Its body instantly puffed up into a ball. It opened its mouth wide and screamed:
WIIIIK!!
A terrifying soundwave burst out. Marie, standing closest, collapsed while covering her ears. Shasha dropped her ladle in pain.
“Aaaah!”
“Cropot! What is that?!”
“Mariposa, Shasha! Come here!”
Holding one ear, Cropot moved his pipe and pulled them toward him. Thick furry earmuffs suddenly covered their ears.
The noise became muffled.
Only then did Marie wipe her tears and look up.
At that moment someone grabbed Cropot by the collar and shouted:
“You damn Lin brat! I told you not to use magic! Gliss can’t handle mana!”
“Shut up! Then why bring that rat with you—”
WIIK!
The flying squirrel screamed again.
Cropot staggered while covering his ears.
Marie and Shasha looked in confusion at the stranger holding Cropot’s collar.
Because of the black robe his face wasn’t clear, but he seemed to be a young man with long purple hair reaching his back.
A flying squirrel and a suspicious man.
Marie asked awkwardly:
“Cropot… who is this person?”
