PDCOO Chapter 5

After the black hair and cloak completely melted into darkness.

The men bent their heads and whispered.

"Those mushrooms, they won't kill him, right?"

"He'll just laugh and cry for three or four hours then pass out, that's all? No danger to life. Probably."

"'Probably' isn't good enough."

"What does it matter? Who knows if mushrooms will even affect that hulk. Well, we did something! Let's head back!"

The young men looked somewhat anxiously in the direction Bertram had climbed.

Like the older man said, one mushroom wouldn't cause big problems for that build...

Karlah dealt with the mountain of peeled onions in the simplest way possible. She dumped them in a pot and boiled them into porridge.

Boiling might reduce the volume, but the onion porridge occupying half the pot was enough to kill anyone's appetite just by looking at it.

"Mom, how are we supposed to get through all this!"

"Won't it work out if you and I eat it for three days or so?"

"Do you want us to suffocate together from onion farts? Onion fart smell is strong enough that even I can smell it."

In the end, Anna resolved to handle her own karma directly.

She loaded the onion porridge into a large pot and left the house.

She ladled out a bowl to everyone she made eye contact with, stopped by Dieter's house and forcibly dumped some into their pot. Even after all that, plenty remained.

"Ugh, seriously. I left it to him because it was amazing how he sliced onions without shedding a single tear...!"

She was in the middle of blaming Bertram all over again when a belated thought led Anna to wonder about the state of Bertram's stomach.

'Come to think of it, I sent him off without even feeding him dinner. He must be hungry. Has he reached the next village by now? Does he have money? He's probably a beggar, right? The next village is better off than ours, but they act like misers when it comes to food...'

Was it because he was a vagrant she had picked up after so long?

Or was it because she felt bad about not even feeding him a meal at the end?

Her mouth tasted unusually bitter.

'...If I meet him again, I should at least feed him some meat.'

The moment Anna made that truly generous resolution, she saw firelight flickering on the hill in the middle of the night.

'The night watch?'

No, the light was not moving. Someone had built a campfire.

Anna headed toward it with a slightly fluttering heart.

It would be a lie to say she felt no fear. But some pleasant premonition moved Anna's steps forward.

At last, she arrived at the place, hugging the pot of onion porridge.

Before the warm firelight, a large wolf-like man raised his head.

It was Bertram, the man who had at least been polite at the start.

"Good evening. It is a fine night."

"...Good evening. Mister Bertram, did something good happen?"

"No. It is merely a greeting."

Of course.

But perhaps because of the flickering orange firelight, his face looked strangely relaxed.

Moreover, what was placed in front of Bertram was...

"Mister Bertram, you can cook too?"

Various ingredients were bubbling away in a small camping pot. Bertram crumbled ship biscuits into it as he spoke.

"I can make ingredients consumable, at that level."

"Wow, that's surprising. I thought you wouldn't be able to do anything like this at all."

"I am competent."

"...Ah, yes. I know very, very well how competent you are. Then could you use that competence to handle this too?"

Anna pulled out the pot of onion porridge she had been carrying. Bertram seemed to understand the situation and silently ladled a scoop of onion porridge into his pot.

White steam rose up at first, but as Bertram alternated adding water, onion porridge, and some unidentifiable spices, the pot's contents slowly took on the appearance of actual cooking. Had he even been hunting? When he stirred with the ladle, plump bird meat bobbed up and down.

Soon a reasonably appetizing hodgepodge soup was complete.

When Anna swallowed involuntarily, Bertram said, "There. I have handled it as you requested. Please try some."

"Huh? What are you talking about?"

"Was that not what you meant—to make the unappetizing onion porridge taste good?"

"No! I meant for you to share eating the onion porridge since there's too much left over."

"...I see."

Bertram turned the ladle handle he had been extending toward Anna back to face himself.

"...Yes. I will not be hurt even if you refuse."

When the large bear of a man said such things, it was truly a scene designed to provoke guilt.

But Anna held firm. Besides, was he not the person who had said with his own mouth that he had no emotions?

"Right, I won't eat it."

"Understood."

Bertram focused on his meal alone without hesitation.

Thanks to that, Anna could observe him peacefully.

The Bertram she had first encountered in front of the restaurant had just been a starving, large vagrant.

But beyond the campfire, handling worn camping tools with practiced skill and a face far less tired than before, he did not look like just a vagrant. Was he someone accustomed to travel?

But what concerned her more than that was something else.

"Doesn't it burn? Don't tell me you lack that sensation too?"

He was eating the bubbling hot pot contents straight from the pot without cooling them at all.

Bertram glanced at Anna, then finally ladled some pot contents onto a front plate and made a 'hoo-' sound with his mouth. Anna sighed.

"Never mind. Just eat however you're comfortable. Actually, I thought you'd tear into raw meat, Mister Bertram, but you at least know to boil things."

"I do sometimes tear into raw meat."

"Ah, I see."

"However, the villagers I met earlier recommended boiling it. Even if we are not eating together, accepting others' goodwill means there will be no awkwardness when we meet next time."

"...I thought you only ever said things that scratched at people's insides."

"I am trying in my own way. Just because I cannot feel emotions does not mean I should hurt others' feelings."

"Then why didn't you do that with me? You could have at least pretended it tasted good."

"Mm."

"Don't just jump straight to 'I apologize.'"

"I will improve."

He really was an exasperating person.

How did Father ever end up in a relationship with someone like this? Besides, this person did not seem like someone who would casually go into debt to others either...

While thinking this, Anna suddenly realized something felt off.

"Mister Bertram. You're full right now, aren't you?"

"...No."

"Liar. I can see you slowing down."

Anna snatched away Bertram's ladle.

He was already stuffed but had been forcing himself to eat the onion porridge.

'Stop being considerate in only useless ways like this! Though of course people who don't waste food are good people!'

Her mental score for Bertram went up slightly. Anna spoke in a somewhat softened voice.

"I was also at fault for getting excited and leaving the onions to you, Mister Bertram, so I'll help with the rest too."

"Thank you."

Wasting food was unacceptable. Anna gulped down the onion porridge that had become almost a hodgepodge mixed with other ingredients.

The texture was terrible from overcooking, but surprisingly the taste was not bad.

Most of all, there was a pleasantly spicy, popping flavor that was quite good. Even with Anna's weak sense of smell, she could feel a distinctive scent spreading.

"It's surprisingly good. Thank you for the meal!"

"Thank you for the compliment. I will wash and return the pot."

"I appreciate the consideration, but do you have somewhere to stay tonight? Where did you sleep last night?"

"I am accustomed to camping."

"You don't seem to have a tent."

"...I am accustomed to sleeping rough. Also, according to the villagers I encountered earlier, there is an abandoned building suitable for staying up ahead."

An abandoned building?

Anna frowned.

There was only one abandoned building up there, and it was not a place anyone would recommend out of goodwill. The rumors of it being "cursed" were widespread.

But with just that rumor alone, she had no alternative to offer for telling him "don't go."

Anna, who had been worrying, raised her head to at least tell him about the curse.

Anna's eyes met Bertram's, who seemed to have been pondering something as well.

"Miss Anna, are you heading home now?"

"...Yes, my mother will be waiting."

While answering, Anna was on guard against Bertram.

There were people who, once they received kindness, demanded endlessly. If he were to ask her to guide him to the abandoned building or tell him about other lodging, how should she put him in his place?

But he brought up something Anna had not anticipated.

"I was caught up in my own concerns and forgot to consider you. Would you permit me to escort you home, Lady?"

Anna looked behind her.

But there was no one who looked like a lady?

"I am referring to you, Lady Anna."

Bertram seemed to have seen right through Anna. Anna turned her head, trembling.

"Um, ladies are, you know. Women who carry parasols and wear dresses."

"While it generally refers to noblewomen, I simply judged it could also be used as a respectful term for women in private settings."

"J-j-j-just call me Miss Anna! Don't be scary like that!"

"Was it scary? Oh my. I still have much to learn about emotions."

Having realized this on his own, Bertram stood right next to Anna. The atmosphere suggested he would not yield on escorting Anna home.

What kind of man was this, really?