Chapter 19 – Miss Snail

The teaching had gone quite well.

The young witches who had previously been at a complete loss facing a room full of ingredients now had at least some idea of how to approach pan-seared steak and vegetable salad.

Regardless of how things would turn out when they went back to practice on their own, by the time Mo Lan and Iris finished their lesson, every young witch could recite the cooking process for both dishes with perfect clarity.

They were already giants in theory, at least.

The rest was up to them to figure out on their own.

Even Mo Lan and Iris could only demonstrate and answer questions — they couldn’t possibly go to every young witch’s kitchen and guide them through it hand by hand.

But what they’d done was already enough.

The young witches carried off their steaks, vegetables, and sauces, brimming with confidence as they headed home to make dinner.

Mo Lan was about to call for Sylph when she noticed her standing outside the Ingredient Collection Station, staring off at the distant farmland in a daze. “Sylph?”

“Moira, you go on ahead!” Sylph said. “I want to go find Bi’er.”

She wanted to tell Bi’er that even if she didn’t want to form a contract, it was fine — she would still visit to tell her stories whenever she had time.

Seeing the earnest look on Sylph’s face, and considering it was still early, Mo Lan nodded.

Sylph loved sprites far more than she did. It was only natural that she hadn’t given up yet.

Mo Lan left on her own, carrying the basket.

The basket of ingredients was heavy. She walked and rested, walked and rested, taking twice as long as the trip there before finally reaching the dormitory.

Stepping into the courtyard, she noticed faint traces of water on the little path worn by footsteps.

She had fetched water that morning.

The half-plane where the Witch Academy was situated had pleasant weather, and this afternoon had been nothing but bright sunshine.

Water from the morning shouldn’t have lasted until now without drying.

A thought stirred in Mo Lan’s mind. She set the vegetable basket down at the dormitory entrance and followed the water traces, which led her, sure enough, to the cistern in the back courtyard.

She climbed up and looked — the cistern that she had spent an exhausting half-day filling only halfway was now completely full.

Surely it wasn’t kindly upperclassmen who had taken pity on her and helped?

After all, that morning, the upperclassmen had collectively taken their sweet time filling their own water, watching the show with amusement.

And among the first-years, every one of them had gone to the Ingredient Collection Station that afternoon, sooner or later, and had all learned to cook from her and Iris. Every one of them — except for one young witch.

Mo Lan walked over to the entrance of Sylph’s dormitory and, sure enough, spotted traces of water there too.

Case closed. “There’s only one person with the strength for that — Vasida, Miss Snail!”

She hadn’t expected that after turning down Vasida’s help that morning, Vasida had still seized the opportunity while she and Sylph were out to fill their cistern to the brim.

If the lingering water traces hadn’t given her away, Mo Lan would probably have been puzzling over it days later — wondering why a half-full cistern had lasted so long without running low.

Mo Lan looked toward the tightly shut door of Dormitory No. 70 and smiled with a helpless shake of her head.

Well then. Today, Vasida had been the only one who hadn’t gone to the Ingredient Collection Station.

If she remembered correctly, Vasida was also not skilled at cooking.

Having that stomach of hers, it was certainly convenient to just stuff food straight into it.

But she couldn’t always survive on breadfruit alone.

The sensory pleasure of fine food was one thing, but even just in terms of filling her belly, Vasida’s need for cooking skills was greater than any other young witch’s.

After all, once she graduated, there wouldn’t be vast groves of breadfruit trees for her to pick from at will.

Other young witches who couldn’t cook could at least earn money to buy food. But with Vasida’s appetite, buying food would eat her straight into bankruptcy.

Besides, Mo Lan needed to make dinner anyway.

She walked to the entrance of Dormitory No. 70. The courtyard was in such disrepair that knocking seemed pointless, so she called out directly: “Vasida!”

“Coming!”

Before long, Vasida emerged clutching a breadfruit. In the time it took her to step through the door, she had already stuffed it into her Devouring Stomach.

Seeing this, Mo Lan asked, “Are you hungry again?”

“No, no! I just felt like my stomach could fit a little more, and since I had nothing else to do, I went and picked some more breadfruit,” Vasida said with a cheerful grin.

That put Mo Lan at ease. If all those breadfruit from last night had only sustained her for a single day, then the side effects of that Devouring Stomach would have been far too severe.

“You went to collect ingredients? What was it like over there?” Vasida asked curiously.

“Not bad — plenty of ingredients to choose from,” Mo Lan said. “Iris and I just taught everyone two simple dishes in the little kitchen at the Ingredient Collection Station. You were the only one who wasn’t there.”

“I’m about to make dinner now. Would you like to come over and watch? You could learn a thing or two and try my cooking while you’re at it.”

“Even if breadfruit is filling, you can’t just eat that one thing forever, can you?”

She didn’t mention the water in the tower.

Better to keep it in her heart. Bringing it up now would make it seem like she was rushing to repay the favor.

“Sure, sure!” Vasida trotted along happily after Mo Lan.

She had been fretting about this very problem. She’d taken a stroll through the Breadfruit Grove that afternoon, and breadfruit was certainly available in abundance.

But someone who had awakened a talent like the Devouring Stomach was naturally not indifferent to good food.

Her mouth had been so bland and tasteless that she’d just been thinking about gnawing on another breadfruit, if only to taste that sour tang.

Mo Lan first taught her to identify the ingredients.

Then they prepared the dishes together.

But unlike the simple cooking lesson that afternoon, Mo Lan felt that egg fried rice — generous in portion, satisfying, delicious without being heavy, and quick and easy to make — would be perfect for Vasida.

The only prerequisite was learning how to steam rice, which wasn’t difficult either.

Once she’d learned that, she could put it to good use — when starving, she could just wolf down plain rice for a quick fill.

So on top of the pan-seared steak and vegetable salad, Mo Lan added egg fried rice to the menu.

She increased all the portions, using up every usable ingredient she’d brought back. Beyond just demonstrating, she also let Vasida try her hand at it.

Her instruction was even more detailed than the afternoon lesson.

Vasida’s comprehension was remarkably good — she essentially picked things up on the first try, better than any of the young witches from the afternoon session.

This eased Mo Lan’s worries about her considerably. “You’ve got real talent for cooking. Once you’ve learned Culinary Magic, filling your belly shouldn’t be a problem at all.”

Cooking by hand to feed a champion eater was no simple task. But cooking with magic? A wave of the wand, and as long as you had enough magical power, whipping up a hundred servings single-handedly would be no trouble at all.

“Really?” Vasida was overjoyed.

“Of course!” Mo Lan said with certainty. “Just wait until you taste the portions you made yourself — then you’ll know.”

“Mm!” Vasida swallowed secretly. It really did smell incredible.

A basin of vegetable salad, a large plate heaped high with pan-seared steak, and a basin of egg fried rice.

Three dishes alone were enough to cover the entire table.

Today, Vasida ate with far more composure than the night before — slow and measured.

Almost excessively so, in fact. For every two bites Mo Lan took, Vasida would take only one.

It made Mo Lan start to doubt her own cooking. “What’s wrong? Not to your liking?”

(End of Chapter)