Sweet Reincarnation

In the gentle sun.

Sip the boiled bean tea from the stir-fried beans. It's one of those things that was recently made as part of a prototype, and it's especially well made.

Tea with fragrant aromas calms the mind of what you drink naturally.

"So, you'll explain, won't you, boy?"

"Uh, heh."

"It's not hehe. You won't be deluded where you pretend to be a normal kid now, sweetie. Would you like me to explain it clearly?"

Empty the wooden pod with tea at once and place it on your desk with momentum.

It was true that I was thirsty because I wasted hours running around, and it was an instant to drink up tea.

"No, well, I didn't know Shiites was coming after me either. I ran to report the situation later. I misplaced it."

It was a tightening paice, but for some reason it didn't.

The reason is obvious if you think about it, he's sitting on his mother's lap.

To put it correctly, Mrs Mortairn, who was making her anxiety expensive, fell asleep on the chair when she saw her returning son and could hold him, refusing to let him go. I seem to be trying to get out of this earlier, but I can't seem to move because I'm disappointed.

Without stopping, it is up to the sermon in an atmosphere that is unsuitable to speak seriously.

"Well, I don't know what else to do because I chased him for nothing and he misplaced him. By the time we got to the scene, we were already back at the mansion."

"Yeah, yeah"

"But how can you outrun the people who went after you? Though I would physically have to fly in the sky to say I misplaced it!!

"I want to know that, too. Pais, what the hell did you do?"

Son on his wife's lap. casserole with a father's face to see it and its one-armed shiites.

That's where the lord and his belly wanted to hear the most.

It's a pleasure to have the boy in front of you back safely. However, if you don't know what you did for it, you may also be misjudged as a leader.

If you tell me exactly what's going on, I'm going to do half the preaching on my son, but I'm going to listen to the situation.

"Let's follow the order. First of all, why did you go after the thief alone?"

"Because I knew the power of thieves. I thought if I took a person unfamiliar with the sword, it would be more troublesome than chasing him alone, even if I didn't even have to say he was a foot wrapper. I also thought we'd be more hostages."

"You shouldn't have bothered to chase him right away, but you should have waited for me or Shiites to chase him"

"Maybe, but that wait could have been fatal. At that point, time was more precious than gold. Even if it's awkward, it's smart enough to beat it."

I see, and the adults sigh.

To tell the truth, I also want to be angry that we should have waited for ourselves. But what if we were ourselves at that point? There is a good chance you wasted more time than contacting other gestures and partners to wait for the rally.

If you are just a child, you can scold, but even if the pastry is adult. Though still half a serving, the judgment in the field should be respected unless it is comparable. Later on, people can say anything, so if judgment on the spot had been avoided to the worst, it would have been a good enough point. The fact that we were able to successfully rescue the hostages is, above all, a result to be respected.

If we scold this, we will always be asked for the best with ourselves, and even the two warriors of the war cannot say enough that our judgment was always the best. I can't even scold you for not being the best than I can tell you.

"Okay, that'll be all right for now. I wasn't necessarily wrong, and I don't know what I'm going to say about the decisions I made."

"Yes."

"So, did it happen with the thief or not? I know the arm of your sword, too. He led a band of bandits that size. Wasn't the opponent quite an arm stander? Yeah, you were invincible, you know."

Pais glanced at her for a moment.

I didn't want to be heard, an attitude that seemed like I could hear my heart say, Etc.

It was somewhat doubtful, but there was no material to deny words that would be close to assertiveness.

"Sure, he was a strong opponent. If it was just a sword, I'd say it was definitely a few steps above me."

"You didn't think it was impotent"

When dealing with many good opponents with swords, it was possible that they would not even be dealt with, but would just be truncated.

The story also persuades me that if I think I might have been left unconstitutional and unspeakable like Hatake's guide Yamako, it would have been better not to chase him.

"I thought it was tough. However, I was confident that I could protect only the steeple and avoid only fatal injuries."

"So?"

"If it's my [transcription], I can also transcribe my wounds to the target and wonder if I can strike the worst..."

Oh, and I sighed, it was Shiites I was listening to on the side.

Indeed, the magic of Pastry's [transcription] is extremely troublesome.

It was only with this magic that I thought before Shiites chased him that if he was a Tyman, he wouldn't lose first.

Even in the simulation, he was tormented scattered with this "transcription of wounds”. The spiciness with which the results of your attacks multiply and return. It is not once or twice that I have taken an unconsciousness to the irrationality of being at a disadvantage if I do not end up with a single blow.

The [instantaneous movement] of the fatherly casserole is also extremely troublesome in one-on-one duels, but my son is no less than a man who uses the same magic. It was a frightened sigh of death.

With such shiites beside him embarrassed, the casserole in his father's face continues.

"That's your decision too."

"Yes, I made my own decision."

"Then I won't say anything about it."

"Thank you"

It's just like parents and children to be impotent, I thought it wasn't Shiites, it was casserole.

Regardless, what is in his eyes is the appearance of his loving wife, after putting it up on the shelf, such as when he was young, that he had done something unscrupulous.

It reminded me of the impotence that I was happy to follow in the difficult task of pioneering in a secluded area where there was nothing.

I see remnants around sleeping in relaxation and still not trying to let go of my son on my lap.

"So, this is the most important part."

"Yes."

"How did you get back when you came back here? No, let's change the question. What magic did you use?

"Eh ~ I needed a very complicated situation and a detailed explanation regarding it, and I was wondering if I could give you some time to sort it out later."

"Where did you learn such a court aristocracy? Answer me."

It's important.

Even though the insanity of the pastry has never begun before, the magic you have is like copying something. Whatever happens, we can't imitate jumping over those who chased us and returning to the mansion.

There was only one thing in casserole that could be imitated like that.

I feel like I know better than anyone else.

Casserole looking at my son still.

To that gaze, it's Pais who's uncomfortable.

Shabu-shabu, and so on, clear the story.

"My magic is what your father copies things, as you know. Conditions include objects that you have seen with your own eyes and have touched the real thing. It's something you can recognize, something you can count."

"I know that because I went with the validation too"

"I snuck up on myself this time using your father's magic."

"I knew it."

This is it. This is the information that I was afraid of, and Casserole looked to heaven.

Normally, I don't think about doing other people's magic. I wouldn't do it if I could.

Magic is often treated like a tactical weapon. As no other casserole and shiites were used as trump cards on the battlefield.

Treating such dangerous goods only requires caution, naturally for fear of the magic of others. Imitation like sleeping under a bed with explosives you don't know how to use is something you would hate if you were a regular person.

If it is the magic of casserole, it may travel momentarily in the rocks or deep into the ground. If it were Shiites, I might see things like the sun and crush my eyes.

Magic seems convenient, and the danger is commensurately great. Carefully overlapping caution is not enough for handling. If it's someone else's magic, it's still something.

Besides, if the fruit of self-convergence, which can also be a lump of personality, is magic, it is normal to have no value for anything, such as the magic of others.

The same notes written with their own symbols and abbreviations are meaningless to others.

What world are you in, such as a seven-year-old, who does it like it's normal?

Casserole and Shiitz looked at each other and held each other's heads.

"Pais. I'll tell you what. This is very important, so be sure to protect it."

"What is it"

"In the future, I forbid you to brag that you can make other people's magic your own, and I forbid you to do it in public. Also, be careful not to let anyone else know about magical transcriptions and doings."

"Yes."

If I take it to Pais, I think this is what happened.

I know that magic is the treatment of dangerous goods without having to tell myself or my parents. That's why I didn't want to tell you. I wanted to keep it a secret.

In the future, keep it to yourself that your magic can capture the magic of others. There is no "no" there.

If others find out, it is seen as so dangerous that it is not the ratio of other wizards. If you're on your side, you'll still be the first person you want to kill from hostile people and so on. Think about it because of the amount of magic, but if you do poorly, you'll be treated like a strategic-class human weapon. If you find out, a normal life or something. Dream again first. I can't even hope for a quiet life.

Never let anyone else know.

"Then it hurts to let the thief go."

Yes, the most important thing Casserole cared about in listening to the circumstances was getting away with the head of the thief.

In order to protect the village child from the strong opponent, the choice of the son who first chose the safety of the child as his top priority to escape. I don't think I'm wrong, and I want to praise you for protecting my friend so well as my son.

"That's where I said I did my best to help the hostages escape. He wasn't the one who could fight a friend on his back. Just look at the gap and pull the marc."

"It was inevitable, huh? It's too late for that. If you wish, until you hope that the escaped opponent will be discussed with you sooner or later with a secret. He may be drowning wild where he escaped."

"I hope so. But we should stop arranging it."

"If you want to keep a secret,"

The means by which casserole, the father and lord, can be taken, as the escaped opponent has a secret he does not want to be torn apart for Pace, is limited.

It would be possible to gather information, look for patterns, and move to secure them.

In other territories, neighboring countries, etc., it is relatively easy to investigate insignificantly if there is an opportunity to say, "The thief has escaped, but is it okay?"

However, even nomination arrangements and circular letters also pose a considerable risk to Pace.

If you're interested in why you want to get caught that far, you could be a snake if you get caught by a person outside Mortarn territory.

Though collecting your ears and eyes is more likely to hold you back, on the contrary, you can't ignore the dangers that can lead you to hustle and bust Pace's secrets.

As a father, my son wants to complain about how all this causes problems.

However, it was only the boulder that said he was a famous lord that had enough weight to enjoy it.

Afterwards, after several questions and rewards for answers, says Caserol, who has finished summarizing the contents.

"Have you heard the rough stuff for now?"

"Well, there's still something I'd like to ask, is this what it is? After that, you just have to follow through."

"All right, then, Pais. You must be tired, too. Get some rest."

"Then excuse me."

Sir Mortairn, who gently awakened his beloved wife, let the boy who was in the woman's hands go free.

Fortunately for this, Pais walks out of the room.

But the boy is not willing to rest.

He had something to do now.

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

The villagers of the three villages were finally about to return to their daily routine from the battle.

The boy was alone and confused about not doing anything, mindful of the busy moving adults. I'm just sitting there.

The boy, Marcarlo, was at the edge of the village, where he was likely to be hidden and invisible.

He leans over and thinks as he looks at his toes.

Take a sigh of uncertainty for the tenth time, and think again.

"What's the matter? Doesn't it?"

If Marc looked to the voice he hung up on, there was a good friend figure there.

I shake my silver hair lightly watered by the bright sun and feel the lack of reluctance between my friends as they sit next to me.

"That's unusual. I can't believe Marc's so depressed."

"Shut up."

I'm depressed, by the fact that I was pointed out. By making myself aware of it. The boy feels even more depressed.

And again, the number of sighs increased.

The silence lasts for a while.

When the number of Marcarlo sighs only increased by five more, his best friend opened his mouth.

"You mean Lumi."

In response to that question, it was silence again.

Silence after holding your knees and putting your strength into those hands again. Pais continued the conversation by smiling at the boy who expressed his attitude that he was a star.

"Lumi's injuries are on their way to comfort. It will leave a wound, but there's nothing else in his life."

For the two of us sitting down, another friend.

Always taken apart, the grownups get mad at each other.

Just because the kid is not here, the infamous prank boy of the bad boy's name depresses you to this point? Pais was careless but also feeling fresh thoughts.

"My..."

"Hmm?"

"It's my fault. He was injured."

It was Pais's honest feeling that he still cared about it.

Marcarlo is the son of his subordinates.

I grew up surrounded by adults, but therefore I like pranks, have a bad mouth, and have nothing to shy away from adults and have no cuteness.

But the root is a man of a strong sense of justice and responsibility. Pais thinks that flirting is because he wants adults to see themselves.

It's not hard to imagine that he would care if he hurt others with his own inadvertent behavior.

"If I had done what he said, he wouldn't have been hurt. Bandits never escaped. I never bothered you."

"Marc......"

"All, all!! It's my fault!!

Soon, the emotional boy's eyes were wet in tears.

"I don't think I've been bothered. Plus, I'm sure Lumi will laugh and forgive Marc."

"But he's gonna have a scratch."

"If you apologize, you'll forgive me."

"I can't forgive you. He's... he's a woman. Wounds will last forever!!

Pace finally understood if that was what he really cared about.

Luminito, like Marc, has a bad mouth.

She's the youngest daughter of four brothers and sisters, all men up there. Therefore, the tone of the person is also a male victory, and the outfit is more than that of the brothers. A nasty old lady. Sometimes I get mistaken for a boy.

Still, it must be a girl. If the wound stays, the ugly, exuberant marks follow you around for the rest of your life.

I guess that's where you feel responsible.

"Anyway, it doesn't even start if you're depressed here. If you care, apologize directly to Lumi. Look, I'm coming."

"Hey, don't pull it. Where are you going?"

"Of course, it's her house"

Forcefulness, because sometimes you need it.

The depressed boy reaches his best friend's house as he is pulled. When we were both passed inside, there was a friend lying there in a simple bedroom.

The bandage that I can see properly left traces of blood, but apparently the blood is stopped and the color is brown.

"Yo, what's wrong with you both?"

I guess I noticed two friends I've been visiting.

Luminito greeted his friends by turning the face he was looking bored with into a smile. However, it was from the pain that the smile touched along the way, and her friend's eyes are not a pit to miss it.

"I'm here to see you. Injury, are you okay? It looks spicy, though."

"Mm, it still hurts pretty bad. But my dad said it was okay. He was mad at me when I tried to go see him, but he told me to sleep."

"Really? Oh, I have a little something to do, so I'll rent the kitchen."

"Tell that to your mother."

For some reason, the shittiness and the pastry that left the room.

Naturally, there are two bad boys left on the spot. Marc and Lumi face each other.

"That, Lumi"

"Mm, what, look weird. Did you even eat a rotten melon?

Boy with less of a combination of things called honesty in the first place. Had he had such a thing, he would have been a good boy with good behavior by now.

I don't have the personality to be honest about what I want to say, naturally.

Inevitably, while I say what I want to say, I will be a hundred faceted ministers who will say and make my mouth a letter to.

They finally made up their minds by pointing that out.

"Ahhh... sorry!!

Marc bowed his head in a momentum that seemed to make a lot of noise.

It was Luminito who tilted his neck at the behavior. She suddenly did that and didn't know what it was about.

"Hey, what is it all of a sudden? It's disgusting. I can't believe you're apologizing, Goosebumps. Stop it, you creep."

"No, 'cause you got hurt because of me, and I think it was bad. So I apologize. Sorry."

Once I apologized, I was later able to apologize surprisingly honestly myself. Marc apologizes with the utmost sincerity he can.

A sincere apology is something that conveys thoughts. The seriousness has been so conveyed that I say no to Lumi as well.

Childhood tampering with each other for a long time. I somehow know what the boy in front of me said about the apology. In terms of apologizing, two professionals. I was going to know better than anyone whether that apology was serious or not.

"Fine. That's about it. My injury was slaughtered by a bandit. It's not Marc's fault."

"But they stole my sword because I did something stupid. So apologize again. Sorry."

"That's enough."

If there is something to say about awkwardness, it would be between the two of us right now.

Marc wanted to apologize to the girl from the bottom of her heart, and she couldn't forgive herself for allowing it. That's why I keep trying to apologize.

From Lumi's point of view, it was a routine tea meal such as the boy's inadvertent behavior, and today was not special. So, anyway, if you're going to be angry at the person you've actually slashed, I didn't feel angry at you for making a Marc-like fool of myself. Still, I feel a different kind of bad sitting to my friend who keeps trying to apologize.

For quite some time we continue to be confused about trying to open our mouths to each other.

When the awkwardness of silence began with each other, it was Lumi and Marc's sense of smell that broke it.

"Something smells good"

"Oh, that smells like it."

The child's five senses are sharp.

Above all, the scent of fragrance and sweetness drifted through the smell of blood.

"Apparently, Marc was able to apologize properly"

The identity of the smell came.

A mutual best friend of two bad boys. On a wooden dish with a pastry, there is its correct answer.

"Hey, Pais, what's that supposed to mean?

Fighting all night, without eating anything busy, Lumi being put to sleep hears.

After being put to sleep, my stomach, which was only fed barley porridge like a sick cannibal, rang with a smell.

"I used the fruit I saw the other day when I went to Wang Du, and I just baked it. Apple with Bonca... not Bonca Pie"

"Sugeye......"

Who accidentally leaked his voice?

Maybe it's what both of us felt on the spot.

On a daily basis, two children live in a village in Mortairn territory where barley porridge and black bread are the staple foods.

The pie in front of me was the first thing I saw in my life, more than I'd ever been outside.

"From me, my sympathy for Lumi and my encouragement for Marc. Come on, try it. Oh, I've got Lumi's family's permission, so don't worry about the injury."

It smells like screaming how delicious it is before I put it in my mouth.

The assertion of a blend of fragrance and a hint of fruit makes me so appetized that I could accidentally drown in my saliva.

"Yay, me, the one over here."

"Ah, Lumi. That's the guy I was after."

"Hehe, the early win.... Ugh!!

A sip of disappointment made a crisp noise.

Fabric layered on multiple layers protects the utensils inside from escape. A moment ravaging there with teeth. Along with a pleasant sense of resistance, you can play a creepy sound.

Overflowing from that moment was a herd of fruit that should have been protected.

Lumi almost forgot the instant she mouthed the pie, even the pain of the injury.

Thick, honeyed sweet fruit.

The sweetness that leaves you refreshed and then greets you with bliss. It's not just sweet, it asserts its fruitiness strongly, but also plays a salty pie dough and exquisite harmony.

Taste. But to that effect, Lumi becomes obsessed.

noticed all the time, the pie that should have been in my hand was gone.

Instead, the feeling of unspeakable happiness and the satisfaction of eating the best sweets remained.

I shouldn't.

Eight pies. Limited.

If you look at the wood dish in a hurry, it's already two slices less. Because Marc and Pais also ate every slice of it.

I guess I felt the same way about myself.

Marc also did his gaze all the way over the wood plate.

Fight. This is a sign of a battle you will never lose.

Lumi reaches out and secures two slices, grabbing each slice in his left and right hand. Eat the guy with the right hand crispy. Do the left-hand thing Gabriel.

It seems very difficult to say how well behaved you are, but if you don't, you can lose the fight. And it is no exaggeration to say that this battle is for the last cut.

There should have been eight pies. Pais ate a slice, and Marc and Lumi cheeked the rest three slices at a time.

The world of arithmetic. All that remains is a slice of whoever calculates it. In fact, the treasure that remains on the plate is certainly a slice.

The settlement of the battle was a draw.

As a result of devouring each other with no regard for shards of bad behavior, reaching for the last slice ends with the result of the adhesion of Marc and Lumi.

"Both of you, I don't know."

"'Cause it tastes good."

Pais laughs bitterly that these places are perfect for breathing.

I was just sagging from day to day, and the words I uttered were the same together.

"Marc, Lumi, try this for a second, as the ownership of the last slice will be decided later"

"That's Bonca."

"Yes, it is. I picked it out to make this pie, keep it."

It's a shame to leave the pie behind. Ask for gaps here, to the point where even the temptation to eat them is so seductive.

However, I tried to avoid Marc and Lumi in doing so. Because we know that the boy they call their future master hates injustices about confectionery.

And because I'm also interested in the fruit itself.

The fruit that makes such a sweet pie ingredient. That must be the best fruit.

It's no different for both of us to think that we're sweeter than any fruit we've ever eaten.

Even if they tell you not to expect it, you can't do more than eat pie.

Pickled fruit honey. It would not have been a month since I put it on, which left the fruit shape of Bonca intact.

Two people with small cut fruits in their mouths.

Together, they glanced at the moment.

"Acid pepper"

"Awesome sour. What is this?"

There's only one person with a smile about doing it.

Only Pais smiles in his colored eyes and is the bad face of those when the flirtation succeeds. These bastards hurt that they haven't changed a bit to you as an adult.

"I was surprised when I ate raw, too. From sour to sweet, each one really tastes different. What the two of them have just eaten is fruit from a sour region. It also seems to be a young thing picked before the sweetness can actually be stored, and it seems quite sour even if soaked in honey."

"Pais, hey, you know I fed you."

"Of course, tasting and tasting before making is basic. I've been through that sourness, too. It's just, you know why I let you two eat that?

There was a serious shade in the boy's eyes that turned off his grin and asked.

I just wanted to make a fool out of it, not to say it doesn't seem like it. Besides, the two of you think about it for a while.

but I just said surrender, not that I can think of it in the child's mind.

"Fruits destined for pie, which is actually too sweet, are unsuitable. If it is raw food, it is highly sweet and juicy is preferred. However, it is more suitable for cooking this hand if it has a strong aroma and acidity and a small amount of fruit juice"

It is true what Pace says.

As it is common sense to say that red balls are suitable for making apple pies, etc., flavors that have more fruitiness are more suitable for cooking.

It is precisely this time that Pace used it for pie dough, the same barley powder that they received a reward for. Beyond becoming a fabric with a slight habit, wrapping utensils need to have just enough character to beat it. Easy to eat, the fruit they say is that if you return the back, you have no habits. Lack of individuality. Lack of decency. When cooking, that's the downside.

Praiseworthy is the arm of cooking that strikingly balances the things of habit with each other, and that praise should be directed at the boy with the silver hair biased.

From the two of us who have no idea, it's just that my best friend made me something delicious.

I received it on par because I don't even know the good or bad fruit I ate for the first time, but I can't possibly tell the unsuitability for pie, etc.

I guess sour pie would be better.

"People are the same, I think. It has a variety of flavors, a variety of personalities, and it depends on the artisan's arm how you make use of it. Marc, you felt bitter about this. Maybe there was something sour left in my heart. That's exactly the same as the scratch left on Lumi's stomach. You won't be gone forever."

"Sorry."

"There's one thing I want to say to Marc. I'm going to make use of whatever personality you have. Think you've got some depth in your taste about this one, and strain your chest. Reflections should be used in the future. If you want to be one of my men, yes."

"I will. Absolutely"

"That's my best friend."

Marc put the remaining bonka in his mouth.

After all, I made an excuse that the sour, dusty, spilled tears were due to the flavor.

My best friend, one grown up.

Pais and Lumi smiled and looked at it.

Finally, the two eyes meet. What really bothers me is still the look of Lumi's bandage.

"Lumi wound, will it still stay"

"Apparently. Well, a man's wound is a medal."

"Lumi would be a girl. Wouldn't they tell you to be a little more discreet?

"Don't preach like Grandpa. But, you know, if you're gonna give me the last cut, I'm gonna forget about the wound."

It is a cash one.

On a wood plate, only a slice of remaining Apple Pie-style bonca pie. It is literally a treat in the countryside where you never eat anything sweet every day.

It is rare that such delicious sweets can be eaten even during festivals. The lack of children's eyes on sweet things is the logic of immutability between East and West in ancient times, even on this occasion.

"You're welcome. Isn't that good? Marc's good, too."

"I don't know."

Still, it was a slightly trembling marc at the end of the story, but it seems to be regaining its natural temperament.

Finally, I got my feelings back. On the arrow tip that looked like it, the bomb drops.

"If you don't decide to forget to get hurt, Grandpa will shut up. He told me to take responsibility and be Marc's wife."

"Become, my wife?!

"Oh, I knew it."

Next to Lumi, who cheeks his pie happily, Marc was solidified for some reason.

His face was as bright red as an apple.