THFN | Chapter 10

The decision was quick.

“…I’ll make sure you get a hefty pay.”

With a year’s worth of graves behind him, that was all Clara could promise.

⏾⋆ ⏾⋆ ⏾⋆

After successfully completing a negotiation that wasn’t quite a negotiation, Clara wrestled with guilt and decided to make snacks as an apology.

On the farm, snacks aren’t a luxury; they’re essential. People who work all day sweating need salt and sugar replenished, or they’ll quickly lose their edge.

High-calorie, loaded with salt and sugar. Humming an incomprehensible tune, he cut pastries that were half butter into squares and scooped out fig jam that would become solid if not heated. By placing a pastry with as little butter as possible underneath and roughly topping it with this, it would become a delicious fig tart.

No need to shape the dough or press it into molds. The jam, generously sprinkled with solid sugar, wouldn’t run unless mixed with water, and it would caramelize thinly on top when heated, making it even tastier. The heat control was crucial, but that was manageable.

The tart wasn’t the end. He mixed half of the fig jam into the dough, crushed a lot of lump sugar, added butter, and kneaded it again. He casually tore off smooth, sticky dough and tossed it onto a baking sheet to bake. These would become cookies. Lastly, there was the pie. With dough containing just a bit of sugar and butter, he added lots of nuts and shaped it. Since it had much more filling than the tart, it couldn’t be too sweet, so he mixed corn starch and water to adjust the consistency.

Covering the top to prevent spillage and filling it with fig jam mixed with nuts, it was a giant fig pie, similar to a tart but good as a meal replacement. Clara generously sprinkled coarse salt on all three and lit the oven.

The dough with salt slowly rose, took shape, and hardened. They were rustic but snacks that only nobles could usually eat.

When he made these while the workers were around, they’d mock him for bringing things only young ladies would eat, so he refrained. But since fairies liked sweets, it should be fine.

Unable to resist, he bit into a quickly finished tart. Huffing and puffing to cool it in his mouth, the roof of his mouth peeled slightly. Ah, hot. But it’s most delicious when it’s hot enough to burn, so he couldn’t give up. Licking his now roughened palate, Clara suddenly remembered the stew he’d cooked in a pot for distribution when he smelled meat from somewhere.

“…Ah!”

He hurriedly ran over and opened the lid. Luckily, the chilly weather had kept it from spoiling. Instead, the well-cooked radish had deepened the broth’s flavor.

…Stew is usually left for half a day as a basic recipe, so now is the best time. Muttering excuses that he hadn’t forgotten due to being busy, Clara began to wander around the room.

This was the kitchen of the workers’ quarters. The mansion only had personal items, so large quantities were made here.

On this land, now abandoned by people, the workers’ blankets, various equipment for mass food production, and facilities were left in disarray. Clara began to gather things that seemed hard to obtain in nature. Blankets, pillows. Oh, should he pack clothes too?

“…Not even half left.”

Of course, they were borrowed, but they took them. He’d have to include this in the damage claim. Clicking his tongue, Clara packed whatever clean items were left.

With a stew pot as big as himself, he groaned under the weight, unable to straighten his back, and carried the load.

“My back hurts.”

This troublesome body. It’s always been a problem, but lately, it’s been even more uncooperative, Clara grumbled as he returned to the warehouse.

Sweating profusely, he arrived, and a fairy, noticing him before he even opened the warehouse door, lightly patted his back. He tapped his arms and sat down, placing the stew pot on the ground with a thud.

Familiar with the tomato sack, Clara saw that instead of the sack being sunken, the middle of the blanket underneath was bulging and bit his lip to hold back laughter.

‘…Must be hiding, right?’

Yeah. They must have tried their best to hide. Can’t laugh. Ahem, ahem. Clearing his throat, now a habit, he opened the large cloth-wrapped bundle and sorted out the items he’d brought. He took a small piece of clothing in his hand and moved a step closer.

There were no children among the workers, and the fairy was so small that he wondered if it would fit, but if not, they could take it home to their family with the stew. That was the light-hearted intention behind the items, even though the size of the bundle was as big as two people.

‘…Bringing it was good, but.’

Looking at the pile of blankets, Clara found it hard to say, “You can have it.”

Even though they were items humans would go crazy for, suddenly telling them to take it to their family seemed a bit rude, and giving such things without expecting anything in return didn’t feel right, especially when they were already wary.

…He remembered crying a lot when he experienced something similar as a child.

Poverty, where you can’t even have a proper meal, tends to make people feel miserable. Clara, who had gone quiet while choosing his words, was observed by Ravid, who asked from within the blanket without showing his eyes.

“What is that…?”

“Oh. Your first… salary? No, not salary, daily wage? No, a welcome gift? Something like that.”

Answering the question with a question, Clara began to repeat to himself.

‘I am a wicked employer. I tell them to make do with food instead of money and mix rice bran and sand into the rice. This is me pretending to be generous by bringing second-hand goods with a clear mind….’

Using authority to block uncomfortable questions was Clara’s bad habit. But this time, it didn’t work.

“Why are you giving it?”

Awkwardly shuffling his feet, Clara eventually gave up acting and sighed, pushing the pot a little closer. The lid rattled, and the warm, rich aroma filled the warehouse.

“It’s not like I brought it for you to eat! …You have family, right?”

“……?”

“I’m not saying your family is starving or anything. …Anyway, take it to your family. You feel guilty eating something delicious alone when everyone’s at home. You can use magic to get there quickly, right? Or should I get you a cart? Do we even have any horses left?”

Realizing he hadn’t thought about transportation, Clara looked down at the stew. Would sealing the lid tightly be enough? No, right. But if you’re a mage, you should be able to use a teleportation spell or something.

After pondering a few times, he decided the fairy’s opinion was important and looked down. But the blanket that had been twitching was now silent.

Why aren’t they saying anything? As he stared, a small voice came out.

“…Can I really take it?”

“Ahem. It’s not like you need permission for this. It’s your reward for working, so do whatever you want.”

Oh, but don’t starve yourself. Starving is so miserable. Briefly recalling his childhood, Clara took out a warm pie slice and a fig jam pastry from his pocket.

As the warm, sweet, and rich aroma wafted out, the blanket rustled once more. Clara carefully placed the tray next to it, ensuring it wouldn’t scare them away. The warm warehouse quickly filled with a pleasant scent.

“I liked this when I was a kid, so I tried making it. You can’t eat too much when you’re grown up because it’ll ruin your teeth, so you should eat it while you’re young. …If you’re hungry, let me know later. I made plenty.”

Maybe he should have brought more for the family too?

“Oh, right. Stay right there, don’t move!”

Remembering the voice of a child blaming themselves for needing to feed their family last night, Clara quickly returned home and brought the remaining pie pieces.

He brought three large pies and seven slices, leaving only three pieces for the child and himself. Since he usually made meals for the workers using the heavily blemished produce from the harvest, he was used to making large quantities, and it was already a hassle to deal with.

Rushing back in a few minutes, he checked the blanket, but in that short time, both the large pot and the child wrapped in the blanket had disappeared.

‘Did they carry it away…?’

He should have offered to lend them a cart. …Well, it would be strange for a fairy to trust human transportation.

But it’s quite chilly now. It’s late, and the night path will be dark.

Wondering if there was anything else he could do, Clara was about to leave the warehouse when he noticed the tomato sack twitching and smiled softly.

Thankfully, they seemed to know teleportation magic. Realizing this, he felt relieved.

“…You were there.”

What else should he say now? Scratching awkwardly, Clara reminded himself that they were in a worker-employer relationship.

And then…