Living in different worlds (no chanter) - The Yufuwa Talent Dispatch Life of the Regenerating Wizard

Tolkiiba also had a bump of snow these days.

I never even saw snow on the south side where I was before.

I can't keep the cold from just the coat of supplies, and everyone is teaching knitting kids to make all kinds of cold gear.

Mr. Chicken with the money wore a nice fur collar roll, but we are mufflers and patient not yet discharged.

Your husband wanted to try making alcohol or something, and lately he's been walking around in the cold looking for properties that look good.

The ideal is where the crowd is small, large and cheap.

Even though Turkiiba has been getting more people lately, plus the Schenkers are buying a lot of properties and the market is getting better, you can't find that.

A small house would sell some, but a large place would be limited.

The realtor doesn't have a good property right now, and we're negotiating directly with the owner of the good property.

I just stopped by a real estate agent or something that said, "Wouldn't land around the dungeon be cheap to buy?" What a fool.

Even noblemen can't buy land in the Dungeon Autonomous Region.

You want me to dig up outside the city and set up a cabin?

I couldn't stand the cold coming at the same time from the sky and the ground, and hooked a glass of Tsuji selling distilled liquor.

Five copper grains, expensive.

But my body gets so hot.

Momentum also buys torquiiba roasting at the Schenker family stalls.

I'm already a jerk, I can't do it because it's cold.

"Uh, booze. I'm sorry if I dillent you."

"I'm not gonna let it get cold anymore."

"We're warm by the fire."

"Hey."

The uncontrolled smile makes me angry.

About Mr. Chicken I'm the one who chose the path to knowledge slavery, but now I envy the ease of the general slave girlfriends...

A thin, round stretched spring burns all over the iron plate.

Cabbage, thinly sliced meat, boiled pepperoncino (...), very ordinary torquiiba roasted with polished potatoes.

Your husband thought of this, too, you're a clever man.

"Plenty of sauce."

"I can't help it, Jillen."

"None."

When the drizzling black sauce was sprinkled, the smell began to drift from the top of the iron plate with the sound of jaw-wood.

I can't wait to smell it. I think I'll drink ale, too.

"Ladies, you're the next uncle."

"Me and me."

"I'm half the size."

Soon there was a crowd around the stall.

I knew it was hot ~ powdered on cold days, right?

"Gillen, do you want to put that on?

"White sauce? Plenty, please."

"Shh shh shh shh shh shh"

Kunechne and white lines pop out of the thin inlet at the exit, and a clean pattern can be made on the canvas with black sauce.

I decided to ask because this sauce splits people who don't fit the mouth so well.

I definitely like it though.

She was so surprised to hear that your husband hated white sauce.

I think I can't help it because the sourness is on my nose...

"Yes, wait!

"Town."

"Thanks."

The Tolkiiba grill that I could do was folded into two pieces and came out wrapped around a leaf of bursting mollusks.

Yeah, well, it's a good place to eat with one hand.

"Ha, ha, ha, ha..."

Warm ~.

I knew I had to eat something warm when it was cold.

I waved to the two of them who worked on the next Turkiiba bake and turned my foot to the next place to visit.

This flavor and stomach feels good in an amount that won't fit with both hands, and 3 copper grains are great for company splitting.

It was the former lumberjack in East Town who walked all the way here.

It's deep off the street, next to the cemetery, and it's reasonably large.

You said you burned it all in the spring at the end of the fire, and then it stayed that way forever?

It's more or less like a rental house. There's no way humans can save money.

I headed to a crude tent built next to the burn.

"Go home, go-ho! Goho!"

"Why don't you just listen to me?

"This is my ancestral land, and I've been entrusted with the tomb guard. I can't sell it."

"Without saying so, keep this one organized and quiet..."

"I'm dying."

This old man is really pale.

I have yellow spots everywhere, even though they are bright blue, and I am likely to die now.

"Who told you that?

"I'm a doctor, even if you don't ask me that, you'll see! Goho! Goho!

Oh, isn't this a chance?

My husband, who cured me easily for being equally morbid, would be able to cure this grandfather, and in exchange...

No, no, but I also think I'm the slave who decides to let your husband work on his own.

"Just go home... and give me..."

Bubba.

In front of my troubled eyes, an old man fell into depression.

For a moment, my head turned white.

Eh!

What shall we do!

We're still in the middle of negotiations!

This...... supposedly I killed him!!

You won't believe what slaves say when your grandfather dies that you brought a nearby doctor...

Worst case scenario, you're tied up by the alarm!

I managed to run to the boulevard with my legs clasped and took my grandfather to HQ with my buddies who were running a store nearby.

Post-approval, but I can't help it, my life is at stake!

Waiting for your husband to come home from school didn't make him feel alive.

Grandpa's complexion is almost earthy enough that he doesn't even know if he's breathing or not.

If your grandfather dies like this...

If they think I went to the ground and killed my opponent, I might be offered to the Turkiiba authorities.

I got a warm bunk because of it.

I had company because of you.

I could have survived!!

As I cried in front of my grandfather, who didn't wake up, someone stroked my head.

"It's healed, it's been a bad time, you."

He was your husband, wearing a uniform from the School of Magic Conduction.

Grandpa's face, which was out of the dead minister, is already completely reddened.

Thanks...... but I have to give an explanation!

"Hih... that... hih... hih..."

For some reason, I don't get the words right.

Even though I have to explain.

Despair buries my heart.

My breath is getting painful.

Waving one hand at me like that, your husband smiled and said:

"Never mind, I heard the story. I'm glad to hear that."

Tears pulled into the words and instead sniffled.

I can't cure why my breath hurts either.

I also tease my head, my eyes turn.

"But if Grandpa couldn't, he wouldn't have sold you."

I got one sneeze.

That's weird, my tears are pounding again.

"I wonder if you have a cold, too, or if the coat of payment is enough to protect you from the cold"

Your husband uses restorative magic on me too and walks towards Mr. Chicken.

I gave myself up to the drowsiness I had suddenly pushed over and let go of consciousness as it was.

Then there was a discussion between your husband and his eldest husband, and the old man apparently decided to sell the land on condition that a house be built next to the grave.

The brewery is already under construction and is scheduled to be completed by summer.

In the end I continue to work as I am, with no blame.

Speaking of one thing unusual, is it about as much as a fur hat and collar wrap were paid for?

It is a warm and common substitute for the luxurious use of grass-fed wolf fur.

The muffler loosened up and turned it into gloves and socks, and now I think I'm going to catch no more cold.

For the record, the nearby merchants have killed the Schenkers for a lift.

You know, it's been rumored as a way to halve it, and then cure it and talk about it...

It's not like that!!