The soft click of my bedroom door shutting echoed in the sudden emptiness of the hallway. Downstairs, in the back main area of the shop, I slumped onto one of the large seat pillows.
Above me, in my own room, slept a woman sent by the Lord of the Realm to be his eyes and ears. When I thought of it again, A demon lord, a vampire, a dragon, two elves, a party of saints, a pair of dryads, a wandering elf, and now a spy from the human kingdom.
The next morning, I awoke. The routing was the same. I stretched, went through my toiletries in the bathroom, and headed to the kitchen. I checked my inventory as I was scrolling around. There wasn't any thought of what the breakfast will be. Egg and rice? Noodle? Porridge?
Let's keep it simple, I thought. A noodle omelette was fast and not plain like a normal omelette. I pulled the two instant noodles and two eggs from the inventory.
The sounds of cooking filled the quiet shop: the bubbling of boiling water for the noodles and the sharp sizzle as I poured the whisked egg and cooked noodles into the hot pan. As I was cooking, slowly I could hear the footsteps descending the stairs.
Orla appeared at the entrance to the kitchen. She was still a mess; her gown was – I almost saw her entire top as her gown hung loosely from one shoulder.
I immediately turned my face away, but I don't want it…However, the reflection of mine was different than what I thought, so I turned my face.
"What are you doing?" I asked her.
"What?"
"That…That…That…" I pointed to everything on her gown. "I thought you were a noble who knew etiquette…"
"Huh? Who do you call noble?"
"You. Of course…"
"Me??? Why?"
"Because you said, 'You need some servant to take a bath.'"
"Yeah…But it doesn't mean I am a noble…"
"Wait? What?"
Orla looked at me as if I were the one being dense. "I require an attendant, or servant as you called it, to assist with bathing and dressing, yes, " she explained slowly. "However, that's a privilege afforded by my station. By my rank. Not by my birth. Therefore, I am not a noble."
My mind stalled for a second. "Then… what are you?"
"I am Orla Quinn, First Commander of the Human's realm…"
"First Commander, huh? Does that mean you are the highest one in the military?"
"Yes, that is correct. I am in charge of all military operations and decisions within the human's realm," Orla replied with a hint of pride in her voice.
"Woah, that's actually amazing… However, I have one question…" I felt it was odd about the relationship between her and the saintess…
"Go ahead, ask your question," Orla said, her expression curious.
"Back in the transportation, you were being separated from me and the Saintess, as it was like the Saintess didn't want you to be with us. Even the Lord of the Realm noticed it. Why?"
"Because the Saintess actually doesn't like the military. So she separated me from you; maybe she thought about a bad scenario, as the Lord of the Realm was ordering me."
"Okay, that makes sense…" But why is her highest order the Saintess? "Yet, one more thing…"
"What is that?"
"As Cera, the Saintess, didn't like the military, and maybe the Lord of the Realm. Why do you place the Saintess as the highest order that you need to obey? You are the First Commander of the Human's realm; it should be the Lord of the Realm, not the Saintess."
"True, it does seem strange. But the Saintess holds immense power and influence over the people, making her commands difficult to ignore even for someone in your position, and she is the chosen one by the Goddess."
"Okay, I got it. How about you stop standing there and take a seat?"
Orla took a seat, and I continued to cook. The sizzle from the pan brought the interest of Orla. I felt her two eyes burning into my back as I cooked. I slid the two omelettes onto plates and brought them to the counter. I brought one plate in front of her and one in front of me.
As I wanted to take a seat and my butt was inches away from the seat, Orla began the question, "What is this?"
I continued to move my butt and took a seat before answering. "It's an omelette," I said.
"What is an omelette?"
"Omelette is an egg dish…"
"I know egg dishes, but what is an omelette?"
"You know fried egg?"
"Surely I know that…"
"The difference is I mixed the egg separately before I cooked it. As you see right now, it's yellow, so it's mixed."
"So it's like scrambled egg, but you don't cook and mix it on the pan, but before that."
"Exactly… How about you taste it first?" As I started to take the fork and tasted it.
Orla took her fork and a small bite of the omelette. "Interesting. Inside of it, there are things that I used to eat, but somehow they are softer."
"What do you mean, 'these somethings'?"
"Lagana…"
I was surprised, as I stopped my fork halfway to my mouth. LAGANA, SHE SAID. That's an ancient word, way before the word of pasta. Maybe that's the answer to why Chistera didn't know the word 'pasta'. As this word knows it as Lagana.
She seemed to separate the noodle with the egg... One by one, she peeled it from the egg; her fork touched it and tapped it a few times until she turned her face to me. I immediately knew what would happen next.
"This Lagana is different than I had eaten. The shape is different; it's thinner and longer, even smaller. What is this?" She asked.
"Tell me the Lagana! That you knew, as you said, it's different."
"The Lagana I know is different. It's served in sheets… flat and square. You cut a piece with the edge of your fork and lift it to eat."
Is she talking about the lasagna sheet? Do I have that in my inventory system?
I quickly checked my inventory system to see if we had lasagna sheets available. As I scrolled through the list, I found it, and I realised this inventory system may have had everything. Maybe if someone in the cafe thought something, or I thought about something, the system would be actively listening and responding.
I took the lasagna sheets and showed them to her. "Is this what you were referring to?" I asked, hoping I had found the right item in our inventory.
"Yes, it's that." She looked at it more closely and asked to touch it. As she inspected the lasagna sheets, she looked at me with the face that I knew.
"How do you have this?" Her face seemed to be confused or amazed; I didn't know.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, this is such a well-made lagana; I've never seen anything like it before."
"How could you say that?"
"Even in the place Lord of the Realm, the food of Lagana, the Lagana isn't like this…" She looked closer. "The colour of this Lagana is bright, the texture is perfectly smooth, and the aroma is divine. It's truly a work of art. Most importantly, the shape's perfect."
She placed it back down carefully, as her look shifted from the Lagana to me. "This level of quality may suggest to me an advanced method that is far beyond even the Lord of the Realm's palace kitchen. Is this the same thing as the fruit that you called about earlier…? Orange… That you summon out of nowhere." Her expression changed; suddenly, it became sharp. "How do you do that?"
How do I explain that to her, as I don't know anything about that?
"It's magic, I think?"
"Magic? What type of magic?"
"Type of magic that can summon things?"
"So where do these things come from?"
"I don't know…"
"What? You don't know where they come from?" Orla's eyes narrowed, suspicion evident in her gaze. "You must have some idea?"
Let's see…I couldn't say anything to her about the screen and modern features that I see in the system. She will ask me a lot about that, so I need to say something about this. "Speaking of the idea, I think Lilith had said something about it earlier; it was like a gate, but this magic isn't a gate."
"The demon lord? you said? She was seeing your magic and already had some knowledge about it. It means you and the demon lord exchanged some information?" Orla's tone was laced with suspicion as she probed further.
Well, it's more like I give her information, and there is less exchange of information. "I guess so…How about we pause this conversation and just enjoy the food…" I took a deliberate bite of the omelette, hoping she'd take the hint and move on.
She seemed not to immediately respond as the silence stretched for a moment. I risked a glance up to her as her expression hadn't softened; if anything, the suspicion in her eyes had remained. Right now, I felt Orla wasn't as clueless as before, but she observed me like a spy and true commander, even though she hadn't touched her food again.
~
"Pause the conversation, huh?" she repeated flatly, not as a question. "Convenient. You are trying to deflect some questions about your abilities by claiming ignorance…"
"Well, that's the truth… It's not ignorance if it's the truth…" I said as I was eating…
"This truth…" Orla set her fork down and forgot about her food. Somehow, her voice suddenly became cold and precise. "Let's call it truth if you want! But it's an… incomplete truth, isn't it? You may not understand how your magic works, but you understand what your magic is. You know you can summon things from thin air. Even you know you're having theoretical discussions with the Demon Lord about your magic. You know this shop is a fortress that repelled everything. And you know you have a connection to the Saintess…" She leaned forward slightly and held a gaze towards me. "So Darya, what is the truth then?"
I felt her gaze as it pierced through me. "If my truth is not your truth, then what is it that you believe in?" I paused. "My truth is this magic is beyond my understanding; I don't know anything at all…" I stared back at her. "If my truth isn't convincing you, what is the truth that you seek right now?"
Orla's gaze went cold, and she leaned forward again. "As you say, your truth is 'I don't know anything.'" For me, that's not a truth; it is an evasion… As for my truth, it is what I just laid out for you: you can summon items out of nowhere. You are having discussions with the Demon Lord. You are connected to the Saintess. You do control this fortress that can stop anything. For me, those are the facts."
She held her gaze, unblinking, towards me. "You asked what truth I seek right now. I seek the truth of your identity and your capabilities." Her voice became flat, as if it were leaving no room for argument. "Show me your status screen."
"If you really just want me to show my status screen, you can just ask it…" I deactivated the shop's spell… and showed the status screen towards her, "There you go…My information…"
Her expression didn't change. She leaned forward as her gaze swept across the panel. I saw her eyes scan the screen once, then twice. Her brow became tight, not in suspicion, but somehow in sharp, analytical confusion. It was different than before; as Lilith and other creatures who had seen my status didn't seem to think deeper about it, but she, Orla, seemed to want to go deeper.
"Name, Darya. Race, Human. Job, Barista…" She muttered the words as her voice was low and sharp. "Where is the rest of it? Your level? Your Attributes? Is this a false screen? Or an illusion?"
"That's it," I said, holding her gaze. "That's all it's ever shown. I don't have them."
"Imposs—" Suddenly her voice choked off, and she gasped. It wasn't a sound of surprise from my status, but it was a desperate, choking heave for air, like it was stolen from her lungs before they could even draw it in.
As for me, I felt nothing. Around me was dead silent. However, Orla's eyes, which had been fixed on me all the time, now snapped wide with a primal terror I hadn't seen. She was forced to her knees. Yet not by the shop's gravity. She clawed at her own throat, her face instantly turning pale, her body shaking as if she were being strangled. She crumpled, with her legs kicking uselessly.
"ORLA!" I yelled, taking a step. I couldn't feel a thing, yet she was suffocating right in front of me. What was happening?