"Don't be too moved. If you hadn't stood there as bait, I wouldn't have been able to drive the iron rod through the carrion rat so easily." Lan Grace spoke with feigned lightness.
Mi Milo, however, knew perfectly well she was only saying that to make it easier for him to accept the nutrient solution.
Back then it had not been a matter of trying to catch a carrion rat at all—she had saved his life…
"Lan, why are you so good to me?" Mi Milo asked earnestly.
It was the one thing he could not puzzle out.
Lan Grace lifted her face slightly. She seemed to give Mi Milo's question serious consideration before saying, "Probably because the instant I saw you, I felt you couldn't be some heinous criminal."
Exactly.
A boy of fifteen or sixteen like Mi Milo, soft‑looking on the outside and simple‑hearted within—what wicked thing could he have done?
Most likely, like the original owner of her body, he had been framed.
The two of them were, in a way, fellow sufferers in the same boat.
That was why, at the start, Lan Grace had lent a hand to Mi Milo and given him a lifesaving piece of bread.
But those gifts were not given for nothing.
In truth, Lan Grace had her own selfish reasons.
At that time, in the strange world and strange environment of Waste Star, she was surrounded by vicious, dangerous exiles; natives wary of exiled criminals; and soldiers of the stationed detachment who monitored and controlled them in all sorts of ways.
So when she saw Mi Milo, this harmless "little animal," saving him was also her way of finding safe companionship for herself.
With at least that, when facing the icy world outside, there might be a touch more softness and warmth in her heart.
Completely unaware that he had been adopted as a picked‑up pet, Mi Milo was moved to the core by Lan Grace's words.
"And… you look good~" Lan Grace said, eyes crinkling as she looked at Mi Milo.
Even with all the grime on him, those beautiful eyes had won Lan Grace over at first glance.
To take in a soft, pretty "pet" for the price of one mould‑scraped piece of bread—worth it!
Mi Milo: "…"
…
Waste Star No. 101, Sector Nine.
The news that among the exiled criminals there was someone who could turn the most common carrion rats on Waste Star into delicious food spread like wings and flew everywhere.
In just half a month, Lan Grace's rat‑on‑the‑griddle had become the talk of all Sector Nine!
Mention those special carrion rat strips and anyone who had tasted them would give a thumbs‑up and wax lyrical.
When it came to that exile's cooking, everyone had only two words: delicious food.
But the fragrant, spicy, mouth‑watering rat‑on‑the‑griddle was ultimately limited.
Lan Grace only made it three times before announcing she lacked seasonings and could not make it again.
Plenty of stationed soldiers who hadn't tasted rat‑on‑the‑griddle were green with regret!
Why hadn't they been clever enough to cultivate a good relationship with this exile who could make delicious food?
At the very least, they could have done what others did—pay a "deposit" up front and queue for a reservation.
The natives of Sector Nine were both relieved and pained by the news.
Relieved that they would no longer have to suffer the torment of that meaty aroma; pained that they would no longer get to smell those maddeningly enticing scents.
Though there had been only three rounds of trading, they had been enough for Lan Grace to make so much that she could have laughed herself awake from a dream!
Her room now held a hoard of over a hundred bottles of low‑grade nutrient solution, not counting what she had given Mi Milo.
It was enough for her and Mi Milo to live on Waste Star without worrying over food for quite some time.
Once basic hunger was solved, new pursuits followed.
To Lan Grace, while low‑grade nutrient solution would keep her from starving, its flavour was such that, as a foodie, she found it very hard to accept.
These sticky, gloppy synthetic nutrient slurries met the body's basic nutritional needs—beyond that, the companies that made nutrient solution simply did not care how their products tasted.
If the things scavenged from the rubbish heaps could not be stomached, low‑grade nutrient solution wasn't much better—it was like drinking medicine. For one's tastebuds, it was sheer torment.
It was the same in every world: the poor far outnumbered the rich overall, and because nutrient solution was cheap, it had become the daily staple for most people across the interstellar.
There were only two companies in the whole interstellar that made nutrient solution—Glory and Jinhe.
So these terrible‑tasting nutrient solutions never worried about not selling. In fact, demand outstripped supply.
They had no need to consider the consumer's feelings.
Even on Waste Star, though she had enough low‑grade nutrient solution to fill her stomach, Lan Grace still wanted, as far as possible, to improve what she ate.
Of course, that was only the first step.
The original owner had been exiled to Waste Star under the charge of murder, but since Lan Grace had come, she had no intention of staying here for life.
Waste Star was too poor; the days too harsh. Even if she could never return to her original world, she needed to find a more comfortable place to live in the future.
…
Waste Star No. 101, the border of Sector Nine.
Here there were no towering rubbish mountains—only endless expanses of wild grass.
Under the blistering sun's year‑round baking, even the plants on Waste Star were mostly straw‑yellow. As with the abandoned planet itself, everything was steeped in decay.
Even in such harsh conditions, there were still hardy plants and animals clinging to life.
Aside from the carrion rats that occupied the rubbish mountains and fed on refuse, insects, birds, and even larger, low‑level star beasts existed among the wild grasses.
In short, Waste Star had a complete food chain of its own.
Lan Grace carefully parted the grasses and patiently searched for all sorts of insects.
Whether plump‑bodied or long‑legged jumpers, she did her utmost to catch them, then separated them into two bottles.
"Can these really be eaten?" Behind her, Mi Milo imitated her movements, catching insects alongside her, but could not help voicing his soul‑deep doubt.
The insects looked so ugly that just looking at them made his skin crawl. He could not imagine, once they were made into food, whether he could overcome his fear and put them in his mouth.
"They can be eaten. I guarantee that after one you'll want another, and after two you'll want a whole pot." Lan Grace spoke casually, without letting it slow her hands in the slightest.
Mi Milo was so provoked by her words that his stomach heaved on the spot. He felt a bit like vomiting.
His fragile gut convulsed a few times but, in the end, he did not throw up.
With the low‑grade nutrient solutions Lan Grace had given him over this period, he no longer had to go hungry. To him, that alone already counted as a decent life. He truly did not understand why Lan Grace still insisted on finding strange things to eat…
"Conditions are limited. We can't help it—we can only make do with insects for now. When we get better ingredients later, I'll treat you to a feast!"