The Following Morning
Arthur woke up a little earlier than usual. Today, a merchant caravan from the city was visiting the village, bringing goods to sell. A cool morning breeze drifted through the window, carrying with it a faint floral scent from the garden behind the house. Arthur stretched and sat up, and as he tossed his blanket aside, a faint shimmering light above the bedside table caught his eye.
"What… what is it this time?"
[ System: …Processing… ]
~ Hello~? System? You alive? ~
[ System: …z z Z… ]
Arthur let out a long sigh. It felt as if he'd been waiting for someone he didn't know for decades—but then he reminded himself that he was used to this kind of slowness."Alright… I've waited fourteen years already. A little longer won't kill me," he muttered, grabbing a towel and heading off to wash up.
After watering the vegetables and feeding the chickens, Arthur carried a basket of fresh eggs into the house. His mother's voice called from the kitchen.
"Arthur, breakfast is ready!"
"Yes, Mother," he replied, setting the eggs on the table.
The breakfast table was filled with the warm care of a new morning. The freshly baked bread at the center was soft and airy, tiny air pockets visible beneath the golden crust. A light dusting of flour still clung to its surface. The rich aroma of yeast and butter mingled together, making his stomach almost growl.
A sunny-side-up egg rested on top of the bread—its deep golden yolk perfectly cooked, the whites soft and springy. Fried in a layer of butter, the edges had turned slightly crisp and pale golden. If he tapped the yolk with a spoon, he knew that warm golden liquid would slowly spill out—tempting enough to devour in a single bite.
Beside the egg were plump sausages freshly grilled on a cast-iron pan. The char marks on the outside gave way to juicy, tender meat inside. When bitten into, the crisp exterior and savory sweetness blended harmoniously, with just a hint of salt and spices kneaded into the sausage from the start.
"Ar'er, ar'oo oh ooh all oing ooo ay o da aravan i ay?" Peter asked mid-chew, his mouth still full. A small trail of egg yolk dripped down his lip—not that he seemed to notice.
"Peter, please finish chewing before you speak. Arthur will end up copying you," Sarah scolded gently, shrugging before letting out a soft laugh at her husband's confused expression.
Arthur couldn't help but smile. Seeing his parents tease each other so naturally, he decided to answer in the same mouth-full manner his father used."Es, a'ay," he mumbled while chewing.
Peter froze, eyes widening as though he had just realized his son knew how to tease back."Arthur!!" he yelled—laughing loudly.
"Hahaha!" Arthur laughed with him. Their voices echoed cheerfully throughout the dining room.
Sarah nodded in satisfaction, gently patting Arthur's head."See? He learns quickly. Just like his father," she whispered to Peter with a smile.
After the laughter settled, Peter cleared his throat, speaking a little more seriously but still warmly."After you eat, go check with Uncle Cyrus. See if he needs anything from the caravan."
Arthur nodded, warmth flooding his chest. Starting the day like this—simple as it was—felt like a kind of magic.
He scooped another bite of egg, bread, and sausage into his mouth, chuckling softly. Everything around him felt perfectly harmonious—just like the breakfast.
The inn's only long-term guest was old Cyrus—a quiet, white-bearded man who spent his days writing novels about a strange world without magic. In that world, people created things using "technology" and "science," concepts far different from the magical world Arthur lived in. Yet Uncle Cyrus' stories were captivating, filled with imagination and ideas unlike anything ordinary folks could conceive. His books often ranked among the kingdom's bestsellers.
Arthur knocked softly. "Uncle, I'm heading to the merchant caravan. Would you like me to buy anything?"
The door creaked open to reveal the elderly man, his long white-gray beard brushing against his robe. His pale blue eyes were kind and gentle, and even on such a quiet morning, his breathing was as calm as if he were still reading.
"I need some paper and ink, if you don't mind. I'm almost out," he said warmly.
Arthur nodded and peeked inside the room. Bookshelves overflowed with manuscripts, ink bottles, quills, and stacks of parchment. It was the world of a writer—peaceful yet full of stories waiting to be told.
"Alright, Uncle. I'll get them for you," Arthur replied with a smile. Helping Uncle Cyrus—even with small things—always made him feel meaningful.
Before leaving, he glanced back once more. Uncle Cyrus' aged, wise eyes held depths like someone who understood the truths of many worlds.
The Moonlight Village market was livelier than usual. Late-morning sunlight filtered through colorful canopies shading the vendor stalls. The air buzzed with bargaining, laughter, and chatter. Wagons loaded with goods lined the main square, and scents of fresh bread and dried herbs filled the air.
Stalls stretched as far as the eye could see—blacksmiths with gleaming knives, fabric merchants shouting cheerfully, and farmers offering freshly harvested vegetables.
"Good morning. Do you have anything new today?" Arthur asked a merchant arranging dried herbs.
The merchant flashed a grin and pulled out a dark cloth bundle. When he unwrapped it, an assortment of dried roots and herbs appeared, releasing a sharp, fragrant aroma.
"Of course. Just returned from the Eastern lands. Look—ever seen this before, boy? They call it The Trio."
Arthur froze.
The Trio…!?
Memories of his past life surged forth—the stone mortar and pestle in a Bangkok kitchen, the rhythmic tok-tok-tok of pounding garlic, peppercorns, and coriander root. The sharp, spicy aroma that stirred both hunger and nostalgia.
The Trio—simple yet unbelievably powerful.
Whether for marinating meat, flavoring soup, or stir-frying quick dishes, even a small amount could elevate flavor to another level. Just thinking about it made his mouth water.
"Oh my god… I finally found something familiar," he whispered, eyes sparkling. The taste of his past world—something he thought he would never encounter again—was right before him.
The scent alone conjured dishes in his mind:Clear broth infused with The Trio…Or even simple fried rice becoming a masterpiece with just one spoonful.
[ Ding! You have unlocked the skill: Ingredient Encyclopedia ]
Huh!? Seriously? Just like that? Fourteen years of nothing, and suddenly the system wakes up?He grumbled inwardly, deciding he'd inspect it later.
"How much is it?" Arthur asked, excitement obvious in his voice.
"Sixty copper coins for a hundred grams."
So cheap!!Arthur was stunned. Compared to his old world's value, this was a steal.
He grinned and negotiated immediately. "How about forty copper coins?"
The merchant burst into laughter. "A future merchant, eh? You've got the talent! Alright—fifty copper coins. Final price."
"Deal! Thank you!"
He paid and clutched the herb bundle to his chest with joy.
Throughout the afternoon, Arthur explored other stalls—wood carvings, exotic spices, and strange powders from a traveling witch. He bought ink and paper for Uncle Cyrus before heading back.
As he walked along the riverbank, he spotted a large man struggling with a net.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Thompson! How's the catch today?"
The fisherman looked up, chuckling."Quite a lot today! But these nets are a pain—the shrimp keep getting stuck. They kick so hard I'm afraid the net might tear… They're swarming this season!"
Arthur stopped.
Shrimp…!?