Chapter 29 – Two Steps to the Stomach
By the time they returned home, the night had already deepened.
Flamme gently laid Frieren onto her bed, crossing her arms as she gazed down at the white-haired elf sleeping like a rock — mouth slightly open, breathing softly.
"Frieren really works hard," Flamme murmured fondly. "She used to fall asleep like this all the time when she was little… mouth open, snoring just a little, so peaceful."
Elias watched her with a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
"Flamme," he said dryly, "I think you've let your sense of 'cuteness' cloud your judgment."
He gestured lazily toward the sleeping elf.
"Truly diligent people don't fall asleep in the middle of training."
Flamme shot him a glare sharp enough to pierce steel, then turned back toward Frieren and gently pulled the blanket up to her shoulders.
"Don't be so harsh on my disciple, Elias," she said softly — though her voice carried the weight of quiet authority. Then she added, with dangerous calm, "Besides… don't you think she's adorable?"
The way her smile froze, her brow slightly twitching, and that faint aura of killing intent… made it abundantly clear that Elias had better pick the right answer.
He instinctively took a few steps back toward the door, hands raised.
"Flamme," he said carefully, "what kind of answer are you expecting? I mean… 'cuteness' is a subjective concept, isn't it?"
"…What did you just say?"
Her tone dropped several degrees — low, cold, like the echo of something deep and ancient.
"You dare say… that Frieren's cuteness is subjective?"
Elias: (ᇂ_ᇂ|||)
What in the world is wrong with this woman…?
She looked absolutely possessed.
Had Frieren… cast some kind of spell on her?
Something like 'Anyone who meets me must call me cute'?
With a weary sigh, Elias resigned himself and forced a stiff smile.
"Fine, fine. Frieren is… very cute."
Flamme's entire face lit up with delight.
"I knew you'd see it my way!"
She turned back to gaze at Frieren again, eyes shining with genuine warmth.
"No matter how long I look at her, I never get tired of it…"
Then her expression shifted slightly. She leaned in, squinting, studying the girl's face with scrutiny.
"…Something's off."
"What is?" Elias asked, though he had a sinking feeling he already knew.
"Is it my imagination…" Flamme said, frowning, "…or has Frieren gotten chubbier?"
Elias froze. His mind flashed back to that nightmare — the one where Frieren had ballooned into a perfect sphere, rolling across the floor while Flamme stabbed him in the throat for "letting her go."
He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, Flamme's hand moved — and a silver dagger gleamed in her grip.
Elias stiffened. "Flamme… I can explain."
But instead of attacking, she stepped closer — and pressed the dagger gently into his hand.
"Thank you, Elias," she said with a quiet smile. "For taking such good care of my precious disciple while I was away."
Then she looked back at the sleeping Frieren once more, her expression soft and full of affection.
"She's even cuter with a rounder face."
Elias: (ᇂ_ᇂ|||)
"…Ah. I see now," he muttered under his breath.
He turned the dagger in his hand, eyeing its old-fashioned skull-shaped hilt.
The faint hum of magic within it was unmistakable.
"Let me guess," he said. "Another of your trophies from the demon war?"
Flamme opened her mouth to respond—
—but her stomach betrayed her first, growling loudly in the silence.
"Ugh… ahaha…" She rubbed her abdomen awkwardly. "Well, it has been a long day…"
Elias sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Two steps from discipline to appetite," he muttered. "You haven't changed at all, Flamme."
Flamme only grinned sheepishly. "And you still cook worse than I do."
From the bed, Frieren murmured sleepily, still half-dreaming:
«(=ω=)»
"…smells like dinner…"
Elias groaned. "Wonderful. Now there are two of you."
And as the night settled fully around the small house, the Archmage and the demon sat together in exasperated silence — while the little elf slept soundly, utterly unaware that her supposed "training" had just become the strangest reunion dinner in history.
The silence between them was almost tangible until Elias finally broke it.
"You've been traveling all day," he said evenly. "You probably haven't had dinner yet, have you?"
Flamme pressed her lips together, eyes darting aside as if wrestling with pride and hunger at once.
Elias smirked faintly. "Don't force yourself to act tough, Flamme. Even the mightiest archmage still needs to eat."
He turned toward the kitchen.
"Come on. I don't have much left in the pantry, but it's enough to fill you up."
---
In the softly lit dining room, Flamme sat stiffly on the edge of her chair, hands folded neatly on her lap.
It felt… strange.
She remembered the last time Elias had cooked for her — years ago, in a half-collapsed shed on the outskirts of a ruined town.
Now, she was sitting in a polished dining room with marble counters and an obsidian-tiled floor. The elegant setting only made her feel more… alien.
Had she simply been at war too long?
Or had she forgotten what "peace" even felt like?
Her thoughts broke as she lifted her gaze.
Elias was working methodically — whisking eggs, pouring them into a pan with practiced grace, the scent of sizzling yolk mingling with the faint sweetness of ripe tomatoes.
He peeled, chopped, and simmered them into a rich, fragrant broth before adding a bundle of slender noodles.
Within minutes, he set a steaming bowl before her.
"This," he said, placing chopsticks beside the bowl, "is tomato and egg noodles — my go-to meal when I used to live alone."
Flamme blinked in mild disbelief.
"Another one of your 'previous life' recipes? What kind of world was that, Elias?"
He chuckled softly.
"Even if I told you, you wouldn't believe me. Just eat first."
Trying to hide her curiosity, Flamme picked up her chopsticks, though her heart was already racing.
Tomatoes… eggs… noodles…
Such ordinary ingredients — yet in his hands, they seemed to promise something extraordinary.
Her hands trembled slightly as she lifted the first bite to her lips.
And then—
Her eyes widened.
(ರ_ರ)…
"…You forgot the salt, didn't you?"
Elias froze. (･ω･)
"Damn! You're right — wait, I'll fix that right now!"
After a hasty round of stirring, the noodles were salted properly. The two of them inhaled the rich aroma that now filled the kitchen.
Flamme lifted another bite — this time with a piece of fried egg — and took a cautious mouthful.
(⊙o⊙)!
Her eyes sparkled.
"…Mmph!"
Now it hit her stomach — perfectly.
The sweetness of the tomato, the golden crisp of the egg, the silky noodles — it all came together seamlessly, harmonizing like an unspoken melody.
Unable to contain herself, Flamme began eating faster and faster, devouring the bowl with almost childlike abandon.
Within minutes, it was gone.
She leaned back, eyes half-lidded, a soft sigh escaping her lips.
"Ahh… how is this even possible?"
"I swear," she murmured, voice dazed with awe, "even the genius sage Aivis couldn't have imagined such a simple yet perfect combination."
Elias chuckled quietly.
"Of course he couldn't. The man didn't even know how to cook. Without me, he and Serie would've starved on our travels."
Flamme looked up at him then, eyes softer than he'd seen in years.
"Elias… thank you," she said sincerely.
"For taking care of Frieren… and for this meal."
After a pause, she added hesitantly,
"There's something else I want to say. As absurd as it sounds… I've grown curious — about your so-called memories from a previous life."
Elias shook his head slowly.
"It's pointless. Even if I tell you, you won't believe me."
Her brow furrowed, a faint frown forming at her lips.
"Elias… do you really think I, of all people — a mage who's deciphered the deepest laws of the world — can't accept something new?"
"It's not about magic," he replied quietly.
"Then what is it?!" she demanded, hands tightening on the table's edge. "I'm the Archmage Flamme — do you really think there's anything left that could surprise me?"
Elias sighed and met her eyes.
"I come from a country," he said calmly, "with a population of 1.4 billion people."
Silence.
Flamme blinked. Once. Twice.
Then, without a word, she stood up, walked into the bathroom, and stared at her reflection in the mirror.
After a long pause, she patted her own cheek and muttered under her breath:
"…What kind of nonsense did I just hear?"
"There's no such thing as a country with 1.4 billion people."
Her brow twitched.
"Does he take me for a fool?"
---
Outside the door, Elias sipped his tea in silence, lips curving into the faintest smirk.
"Heh… some things really don't change," he murmured.
"No matter the world — no one ever believes the truth the first time."