After she sat down, the nun immediately regretted it.
The War of the Gods was still going, but now she had gained a backseat strategist in the form of Sylvie.
"Why would you play a One Staff here instead of a Four Staff?"
"You've got four of the same—why not go straight for a meld?"
"She played a Six Ring, why didn't you chow it?"
"You drew your winning tile just now—why didn't you go for the win?"
Intimidated by Sylvie's imposing presence, the nun obeyed every suggestion Sylvie gave—and didn't win a single round.
After a few humiliating defeats, Sylvie finally realized she was the problem and promptly shut up.
Immediately afterward, the nun won a hand, proving once and for all that Sylvie's "strategic guidance" was utter dogwater...
"Sorry. How much did you lose this round? I'll cover it," Sylvie offered, trying to make up for her blunder in her own way.
But the nun hesitated before replying, "We're not gambling money… It's time."
"Huh?" Sylvie blinked, confused by this "gambling time" mechanic.
Had the nuns found a way to split and trade time during the War of the Gods?
That sounded like nonsense…
"It's just leaf-harvesting time," the nun said sheepishly. "The base rate's one minute. Whoever loses has to do chores for the winner."
Sylvie fell silent in thought.
The winning nun, seeing her expression, quickly added, "Let's just play for fun this round, no time on the line."
"Yeah, yeah, just for fun! This round doesn't count!" the other two nuns chimed in.
Sylvie couldn't think of a better idea, so she just nodded.
She wasn't embarrassed about helping nuns with their leaf harvesting—these nuns had their own logic when it came to embarrassment anyway.
But she couldn't stray too far from His Highness Ron. She had to be close at all times to protect him, so there was no way she could stay here at the chapel and serve out her "penalty."
"Sister Sylvie, since we're not betting anything this round, how about you take my place?" the nun offered, already halfway out of her seat.
She could tell Sylvie was just too self-conscious to admit she wanted to play, so she decided for her.
This time, Sylvie had no excuse to refuse.
She stared at the now-empty seat before her, deeply tempted.
Clearing her throat to hide her awkwardness, she walked over. "Then I'll just play a few rounds…"
"Sylvie! Time to go!"
Ron's voice rang out from the chapel entrance just as she was about to sit down. Her body froze mid-motion.
She glanced at the War of the Gods board in front of her, at the "Sheaf of Grain" tile face-up on the table, and could only sigh and stand up slowly, regret blossoming in her chest.
As she walked toward the door, she saw the nun reclaim the "throne" she'd just vacated, and sighed again.
There had been a chance right in front of her. And she didn't cherish it.
Now that it was gone, she regretted it deeply.
Nothing in life is more painful than this.
"What's wrong? You look down," Ron asked, puzzled.
"It's nothing. Thank you for your concern, Your Highness," Sylvie shook her head, her cheeks a little flushed with embarrassment.
The three boarded the carriage and headed into town.
As the carriage rolled along the main avenue, Ron leaned on the window, watching the scenery blur by in a monotonous retreat.
Suddenly, something cold brushed his cheek.
"Hm?" Ron reached up to touch his face, then looked up at the sky.
Tiny snowflakes had begun to fall, drifting slowly like a gentle rain.
It was snowing.
"Let's have hotpot tonight. Sylvie, anything you want to eat?" Ron turned and asked.
The two had known each other for over a month now. After living together and spending time day in and day out, Sylvie had gotten a pretty good grasp of Ron's personality. So she didn't hold back when he casually asked:
"Chinese cabbage, bean sprouts, shiitake mushrooms, sliced potatoes, tofu skin, enoki mushrooms, ox tripe…"
"Alright, we'll pick those up," Ron smiled and nodded, then turned to Guy. "Want to join us at the shop for dinner tonight?"
"Thank you for the offer, Your Highness," Guy smiled and shook his head. "My wife's waiting at home. If I'm late, the food'll go cold."
"Tch." Ron groaned at the public display of affection, rolling his eyes. "If you run out of the spice mix I gave you last time, let me know—I've got plenty more. Same with that tea."
Guy thanked him repeatedly, then added with admiration, "That spice mix is something else. My wife used to barely enjoy her own cooking, but now both of us have way bigger appetites."
"And that tea too—I've been in such good shape lately. My wife even said that at night I've become—uh, well… cough… yeah, she said I'm much healthier now."
He cut himself off mid-sentence, glancing sheepishly at Sister Sylvie.
Ron stifled a laugh. "Good, as long as it's working."
Guy hopped off at the road leading to his home, bidding them both farewell.
Under Ron's direction, the carriage headed toward the market.
"Let's get some fish for Nora—she loves it sliced into fillets."
"And Yuna likes… actually, who cares what she likes. Just grab whatever."
Finally, after picking up ingredients for dinner, Ron and Sylvie headed for Ron's Wonderful Flower Shop.
As they neared the shop, Ron spotted a carriage parked right at the door and raised an eyebrow.
Getting off and walking inside, he immediately noticed Edith seated at the tea table—and beside her, an older elf gentleman.
Despite his naturally fair skin and elven features, this man clearly wasn't young.
If he were human, he'd look to be in his mid-forties or fifties—probably the type who worked out regularly and aged gracefully.
For an elf, though, that likely meant he was well over 300 years old.
This was the Elven Priest Edith had mentioned before. Ron had met him during the ritual ceremony.
Later, when the elves bought several hundred Scalevines, this priest had been the one to oversee the transaction.
"Your Highness Ron," Edith stood up and greeted him when she saw him enter.
"Edith," Ron nodded in reply, then turned to the priest. "Priest Greville, long time no see."
"Your Highness Ron," Greville placed a hand over his chest and traced the sigil of the God of Life, giving a polite bow. "It has indeed been a while. Sorry to drop by uninvited."
"Sorry to keep you waiting. How about I make it up to you both with a nice dinner?" Ron didn't jump straight into business, but instead extended a warm invitation.
Greville glanced at the sky and nodded readily. He and Edith followed Ron upstairs to the second-floor parlor.
Nora took the groceries and headed into the kitchen.
She prepared a hotpot base and added some golden syrupy resin for umami.
Following Ron's recipe, she mixed several hotpot dipping sauces, also sprinkling in some powdered spice pine fruit for extra flavor.
Before long, the "enhanced" hotpot broth and condiments were brought to the table.