I've Been Killing Slimes for 300 Years and Maxed Out My Level Max Level Witch - Volume 15 - Chapter 6

  WE MET A HERMIT WHO WAS FAMOUS FOR FASTING  

“It sure has been a while since we’ve been here, hasn’t it?”

“It has, yes, though I must confess I find the weather a little too cold for my liking.”

“Oh, right. Sorry, Laika—let’s hurry inside!”

We had arrived at Mount Modadiana, a desolate, mostly treeless mountain home to the workshop of the Wizard Slime, aka Wizly. That workshop was right in front of us, and I’d come bearing plenty of gifts for its occupant. Wizly lived in a seriously inconvenient location, so I figured she’d appreciate them.

My hands were full of said gifts, so Laika knocked on the door in my place. A blond-haired girl—Wizly herself—opened it up barely a moment later.

“Yes, who is it…? Oh! Well, if it isn’t the Witch of the Highlands and her apprentice!”

I took a moment to appreciate how understated Wizly’s reactions were. Most people I knew tended to blow everything out of proportion, so it was a relief to interact with someone like Wizly every once in a while. The people of Flatta were a bombastic bunch on the whole…

“It’s nice to see you again,” I said. “You’ve done a lot for my (step-)daughter, so I wanted to stop by and say thanks.”

“Your daughter? Oh, you must mean Wynona! You didn’t have to come all the way here just for that, you know.”

Wynona was Wizly’s apprentice in magic. Granted, all this had happened long before I met her, but she was still my (step)daughter, and I felt an obligation to thank Wizly for her help in whatever way I could.

I carefully set the parcels I was carrying down on the table. There wasn’t all that much to Wizly’s workshop aside from a table, incidentally. She barely had to eat, being a slime, so her lodgings didn’t feature a kitchen, bed, or toilet. It was a very simple building all around.

“I had no idea what you’d like as a gift,” I explained. “So I asked Smarsly, who said artifacts like these would be a good choice.”

“Oh? Let me see… Ah, these are certainly some nice talismans! And this is a splendid amulet as well. Oh, and I see you brought a mana storage tool!”

Wizly opened the packages I’d brought one by one. All right, I thought. That’s our biggest objective complete!

“I believe we can call this a success, Lady Azusa,” Laika said as she turned to face me. I gave her a look signaling my agreement.

The question is, how will she react when she opens that box?

Wizly kept opening packages until suddenly, she came to a stop. “Oh! This is certainly a surprise,” she said.

You don’t sound very surprised to me…

The box she’d just opened contained none other than Smarsly itself. Just to be clear, we hadn’t packed it up in a box against its will! It had asked us to take it to Wizly for a visit, and it had personally suggested that we carry it in a box. I offered to bring it along in a more normal way, but Smarsly had replied that it enjoyed being shut up in tight spaces to be alone with its thoughts every once in a while.

Less think tank, more think box, I guess. It wasn’t like Smarsly was in any danger of suffocating to death, so I’d packed it into the box and carried it along with the others as requested.

Smarsly bounced excitedly. It seemed full of energy, which was nice to see. It was never easy to tell how a slime was feeling, but I’d found that as a general rule, hopping was a sign they were doing just fine.

“Oh, now this takes me back. I used to pack myself into boxes all the time as well.”

“You’ve done that, too, Wizly?”

It wasn’t me asking this time—Laika beat me to the punch. Apparently, two out of four people in our group had been stuffed into boxes at some point in their lives.

Maybe this is just normal for slimes.

“Yes, I have,” said Wizly. “I was particularly fond of boxes that had been used to store sweets. Sometimes, you can just barely smell whatever treat used to be packaged in them.”

“That’s a less intellectual motive than I was anticipating,” Laika remarked. She seemed a little taken aback at Wizly’s reasoning, which was a lot more worldly than Smarsly’s.

Smarsly itself was still hopping away in front of Wizly as Wizly gave it the occasional understanding nod.

“I see, I see,” said Wizly. “That’s an option, certainly, but I can’t say I would recommend it. If you’re really certain, I can at least point you in the right direction. Hmm, hmm… You learned the value of meeting new people from an encounter with one of the three great sages? Fascinating.”

“…So, um—how are you two, you know, communicating?” I asked, interrupting the exchange. From what I could tell, all Smarsly was doing was hopping around.

“Oh, you can’t tell?” asked Wizly. “Right now, the slime I’m speaking with, ummm…you call it Smarsly, I believe?”

“Yeah. I know most slimes don’t have names, so I came up with something I thought sounded cool.”

“Lady Azusa? Are you truly under the impression that Smarsly’s name is ‘cool’…?”

Well, that’s not the reaction I expected from my apprentice. Hmm… Do I have weird taste in names?

You know what, I’ll unpack that some other time.

“You see,” said Wizly, “Smarsly was just saying, If you know anything about the rest of the three great sages, please let me know. Meeting with the dryad sage Miyu-miyu Kuzzoco was extremely informative.”

“How exactly did you get all of that out of a few jumps?” I asked.

Smarsly jumped again.

“Did you see how when Smarsly jumped just now, its body was turned slightly away from me, and it reached a middling height? That conveyed the meaning If you know anything about the rest of the three great sages, please let me know.”

“I don’t get it. This is all way beyond me.” How could “the three great sages” be packed into a single jump? That’s not exactly an everyday phrase!

“It’s a perfectly normal way of communicating for us slimes. Like, for instance… Oh, I know—Smarsly, would you show us an example, please?”

Smarsly hopped out of its box. It must have made it at least a half meter into the air that time. As far as hops went, it was a pretty impressive one.

“That meant ‘Words only carry meaning when spoken to one with whom you share a tongue. That, in and of itself, proves language’s inherent limitations.’ -The Collected Proverbs of Alcei, Volume 5.”

“You have got to be kidding me! It cited a book, by name, in a single jump?!”

“I was watching closely as well,” said Laika, “and I have to agree that seems simply impossible!” Both of us non-slimes were having a really hard time accepting this situation.

“Oh, to be fair, not even slimes can express proper nouns through jumping alone. Smarsly didn’t just jump, though—it also raised a very slight protuberance on its back half.”

Smarsly seemed to nod toward us. I guess Wizly’s telling the truth.

“For slimes in the know, that particular gesture instantly indicates that it was referring to The Collected Proverbs of Alcei, Volume 5.”

“Oh, that makes sense—not! It makes no sense at all! I can tell you two are communicating somehow, but…”

Is this sort of like how computers can autofill whole phrases from just a couple letters, if you set them up right…?

“It seems that when Smarsly met with the individual named Miyu-miyu Kuzzoco, one of the three great sages, it discovered that speaking with her granted it a wealth of information that reading books on its own could never have provided. That was an eye-opening experience, and now that it knows how much it has to gain from speaking with fellow scholars, it’s decided that it wants to seek out other sages, and so it asked me where it could find them.”

Once again, Smarsly seemed to nod in agreement with Wizly’s words. Incidentally, it didn’t really matter, but every time I heard someone say Miyu’s full name, it struck me how strange it sounded…

“Well, I certainly understand how Smarsly feels there,” I said. “But…well, I have a feeling that’s something of a big ask, for all sorts of reasons.”

“Why would you say that?” Wizly asked as she laid a hand on her table. There was only one chair in the whole workshop, so all of us were currently standing. In her defense, she couldn’t have expected many visitors way out here.

“Because if you go out and meet all of the three great sages you can find, you’ll run out in no time at all. It’s not like they’re that easy to stumble across, right?”

Now, I knew perfectly well that there were a lot more than three people who fell into the “three great sages” category. As it happened, if someone wasn’t confident enough to call themselves the greatest or second-greatest sage, they could just say they were one of the top three and get away with it. It reminded me of how back in Japan a list of the three greatest Inari shrines would always include the Fushimi Inari Shrine and the Toyokawa Inari Shrine, but when it came to the third spot, a bunch of different shrines would insist it belonged to them.

That said, the number of shrines vying for third place wasn’t in the hundreds or anything. There was a limit, even if that limit was a bit bigger than three. And come to think of it, isn’t the phrasing the three great whatevers a Japanese thing to begin with? I figure every culture around the world has something equivalent, though…

At that point, Wizly walked over to her shelf and pulled out a book.

“Why don’t we look some up in the Three Great Sages Encyclopedia?”

“There’s a book about something that incredibly specific?”

“It lists every individual in the world who has claimed to be one of its three greatest sages—roughly three thousand of them, in total.”

“Never mind! With numbers like that, no wonder there’s an encyclopedia!”

“In this book, a team of five sagely reviewers have assigned a score from one to ten to each of the three great sages included, for a potential aggregate score of up to fifty points.”

“Isn’t it kinda rude to grade someone who might be one of the world’s three great sages on a point-based scale…?”

“As a side note, when asked to rate their own credentials, each of the reviewers gave themselves a perfect score.”

“So much for their credibility!” That’s the worst thing you could do in a position like that!

“Well, I won’t pretend the system’s perfect, but thanks to them, we at least have a basic number we can use to get a gist of all our options. Most of the sages who scored in the forties have already passed away, so we can skip over them. It’s hard to speak poorly of the dead, after all—you know how it goes.” As Wizly spoke, she started flipping through the book’s index.

Nothing about this seems even slightly sagely.

“On the other hand, the sages who scored around ten points are mostly cringey posers, so there’s no point whatsoever in seeking them out. Take this individual, for instance, who founded a company that made a killing, then put out an autobiography in which they referred to themselves as a sage. That’s their only claim to the title.”

“Why would they even include someone like that in the book…?”

I guess that means company founders like writing autobiographies in this world, too. If Halkara ever tries writing one, I’ll have to remember to make her stop. She’s free to do whatever she wants, of course, but I know for a fact that if she publishes anything like that, she’ll end up so humiliated she’ll want to tear her own hair out.

“Um, Miss Wizly…?” said Laika. “I think we understand that some of the sages won’t be helpful to us, so perhaps we should move on to learning about the ones who are actually worth visiting?” She looked as exhausted as I felt. This had been a draining digression.

“Yes, of course!” replied Wizly. “The most reliable sages are those who rank in the thirties. There’s Millhent the Frugal, for instance, and then there’s Sortorhein the Inspired, Laika the Bashful, Nansetes the Pessimistic…”

“One of those names sounded awfully familiar!” She definitely just said Laika, didn’t she?!”

“P-please calm down, Lady Azusa!” said Laika. “My name isn’t especially rare. I’m certain it’s just a coincidence.”

Wizly flipped through the encyclopedia. “Let’s see here… Ah, found her! She lives in the province of Nanterre, it seems, so she’s right nearby! It says she’s A graduate of the Red-Dragon Academy for Girls. She came to be called Laika the Bashful due to her endearingly bashful performance as a café waitress. Her dedication to self-improvement is commendable.”

“That’s literally just our Laika!”

“Aaaaaaugh! How did this even happen?! I don’t understand! When have I ever called myself one of the three great sages?!”

Laika buried her face in her hands as she wailed. I feel you, girl!

“Um, well,” Wizly muttered awkwardly, “one of the reviewers gave her a perfect ten out of ten. They wrote I want to spread the word about her far and wide. I’ll cheer her on, no matter what she does next.”

“Sounds like that reviewer’s just a fan.” And this encyclopedia’s credibility is plummeting further and further by the second!

“Well, that’s just how it goes. They put as many people as possible into books like these, in the hopes that the sages themselves will want to buy them. Encyclopedias are quite expensive, so every single sale is important.”

I’d prefer not to learn any more about the dark side of the publishing industry.

“Even the eccentric company founder got in. I think they were hoping they’d get lucky and he’d buy a few dozen copies to pass out to his subordinates.”

“First things first: Can we all agree that anyone involved in publishing that book doesn’t deserve to call themselves a sage?”

It seems like everyone in this world will do anything for money, doesn’t it? Lately, I’ve been running into stuff like this a lot.

“Now, now,” said Wizly. “Some of the people listed are reasonable, I assure you! Take, um… Ah, here’s one! Moryake the Abstemious. Total score: thirty-four out of fifty. An asphalt spirit who lives in the desert, quietly devoting herself to long-term fasting. How about her?”

This one actually sounds pretty decent. The part about her being an asphalt spirit had me a little curious, but my understanding was that asphalt could occur naturally and was used even by ancient civilizations back on Earth, so it probably wasn’t that strange to find it in this world, too.

Smarsly jumped higher than ever before and landed on the tabletop.

“Oh, is that so?” said Wizly. “Smarsly says, Sounds good! I’m glad to hear it.”

“Okay, see, that’s simple enough I can actually buy it being communicated through a jump!”

Seriously, that was nothing like those full-blown sentences from before!

“Let’s read a little more of her entry, shall we? Those who wish to meet with Moryake should inquire with a spirit acquaintance or the Desert Talent Agency. Visiting her without an appointment risks disrupting her ascetic training and is strongly discouraged.”

“Why would a talent agency have anything to do with someone practicing ascetic fasting in a desert…?” Laika asked, cocking her head curiously.

You’re asking the right question, Laika.

“I bet so many people started showing up out of nowhere to see her, she decided to tell them to go talk to her agency to get them off her back!” I suggested. “That way she could train without any interruptions! Yeah, that’s gotta be it!”

I wasn’t totally sold on my own logic, but I didn’t want to disappoint Laika. I could tell she was a little interested in the sage already. They seemed to share a drive for self-improvement, after all.

Smarsly jumped so high, it almost touched the ceiling.

“You’d like to speak with her, then?” asked Wizly. “I have to say, Smarsly seems very lively today!”

I actually understood that one. Smarsly’s priority was clearly to go out and meet more sages. Laika also seemed interested in talking with a sage devoted to her training, so I figured the three of us could go to meet Moryake the asphalt spirit together.

And if we’re meeting a spirit, I should first get in touch with Momma Yufufu. She’s so well-connected in the spirit world that even if she can’t get us in touch with Moryake directly, I bet she’ll know something to put us on the right track.

We left Wizly’s workshop and made straight for Momma Yufufu’s house.

“The asphalt spirit? Hmm. What was she like, again?” Momma Yufufu muttered. Judging by that reaction, she barely remembered the sage we were looking for.

“I guess spirits live for such a long time, you’ve probably met more of your kind than you can count, right? No wonder you can’t remember all of them,” I said. “Sorry for asking such a weird question, Momma Yufufu. We’ll just talk to the talent agency like we’re supposed to.”

“Oh, there’s no need to apologize, Azusa! Wait a moment—there’s a book that might have the information you need in it.”

A moment later, Momma Yufufu returned with a book entitled Spirit Encyclopedia.

“There’s a book like that for spirits, too?”

“Ah, here she is! The asphalt spirit: Aligned with the element of earth. Not very sociable, it says.”

We obtained an incredibly unhelpful piece of information!

“‘Not very sociable’? That’s less a description and more an insult,” I muttered.

“This was bound to happen, I’m afraid. This book was written by spirits, for spirits, and carelessness runs rampant among our kind. This printing technically came out a little over a century ago, but the text hasn’t been edited at all for more than a millennium.”

Once again, my one big takeaway was that the vast majority of spirits were extremely irresponsible.

“That must mean Falfa and Shalsha aren’t included yet, huh?” I said. “I guess not having anything written about you is better than having something really weird written about you, though.”

“There’s something seriously wrong with me having an entry in the encyclopedia of sages while Falfa and Shalsha aren’t in the encyclopedia of spirits,” Laika grumbled.

Apparently, she was still dwelling on the fact that she’d been added to the book of sages without her permission. It’d be one thing if people called her a sage on a regular basis, but nobody in Laika’s immediate vicinity—from her family to the people of Flatta to Laika herself—had ever done so…

Anyway, Laika looked so worn-out that Momma Yufufu decided to make a nice, meaty meal for us, presumably to cheer her up.

“An orange juice–based sauce goes remarkably well with meat!” Laika remarked. “It’s faintly sweet and so refreshing.”

“Momma Yufufu’s cooking always has such a perfectly homey touch, doesn’t it?” I agreed. “It almost feels like I grew up eating this every day.”

“Well, the two of you are welcome back home any time you wish,” said Momma Yufufu.

Smarsly, who had come along with us, started shuffling around on a piece of fabric with letters written on it—sort of like a keyboard—that it had laid out on the ground. Apparently, it had something to say.

“What’s that, Smarsly?” I asked. “Let’s see… Being a literal mother is by no means a prerequisite to possessing a motherly nature, huh? Yeah, you might have a point there.”

I was pretty sure a droplet spirit like Momma Yufufu didn’t have any blood relatives, after all.

Smarsly wasn’t done writing just yet.

“Oh, there’s more? A picture is worth a thousand words. We should go to the desert and make our own judgments. Yeah, sounds good to me. Why not meet that spirit for ourselves?”

That had been my plan from the beginning, of course. Smarsly wanted to meet more sages, and I wanted to make that happen.

But for now, Smarsly headed home to the demon lands aboard a wyvern—though rather than riding, it was once again packed up into a box. Apparently, it was safer for it to fly that way, since it was less likely to get dropped en route.

It’s almost like its luggage, rather than a passenger…

Some time later, we went to the Desert Talent Agency’s office and easily received permission to visit Moryake the asphalt spirit. Later still, we received a letter from the agency that detailed the dates she’d be available to meet with us. The letter also included a request that we find a magic streaming celebrity to bring along, if at all possible. Apparently, the idea was that they’d stream our meeting with the sage.

I could practically see the question marks floating above Laika’s head—three of them, by my count—when she read that part of the letter. “Why would a magic streamer need to accompany us? Magic streaming is that moving image service largely utilized by the demons, isn’t it? I can’t see how that could have any real connection to the sage’s training.”

Recently, the demons had started using technology from the ancient kingdom of the dead to become whatever-tubers. Their streams still played on their own in my house every once in a while, but since I could mute and minimize them whenever I wanted nowadays, I barely ever actually watched them. That hadn’t been the case in the early days—the streams had been more or less compulsory, which was super obnoxious. It had taken a while for them to develop into the kind of “service” Laika was describing.

“To be honest, I don’t think there’s any connection between streaming and her training at all,” I said. “The spirit might have only started working with the agency to stop people from visiting her out of nowhere, but the agency will want to make some money from the arrangement. I’m betting that’s their goal with all this.”

I knew if I were a talent agent, making money off my talents would probably be my highest priority. The question, then, was why magic streaming? But it made sense that a talent agency would be in the know regarding demon technology. I’d heard their streamers had a fair number of viewers and listeners in the human lands, too.

“We have to go back to Vanzeld Castle to pick Smarsly up anyway,” I said. “So I might as well pay her a visit while I’m at it.”

Even if I keep quiet, it always turns out she knew about everything anyway, so why not seize the initiative and be the one to involve her for once?

I climbed aboard Laika and set out for Vanzeld Castle. Once we arrived, barely a moment after we stepped inside to meet with Smarsly…

“Elder Sisteeer! Leave it to me–I have the most subscribers out of all the top-ranking channels, so I’m just the streamer you need!”

…I found Pecora and Smarsly both standing at the ready, waiting for us.

“You could’ve at least given me a chance to ask first!”

“Sorry, but you were too late! The Desert Talent Agency already contacted me and asked if I could work a sage who’s famous for fasting into one of my streams!”

“So the agency made a move before I had the chance…?”

Clearly, the talent industry was a force to be reckoned with. They’d probably already looked into the state of magic streaming and learned I had a connection with Pecora.

“My subscriber count is in the millions, after all! That sage might already be famous for fasting, but I’ll make her more famous than ever!”

“Wait, in the millions?! That many?! That really is amazing!”

“Magic streaming devices have gotten cheaper lately, which has helped a lot. You can get your hands on one for only a hundred and fifty thousand gold these days!”

That still sounds like a pretty big chunk of change, but I guess it’s not that crazy compared to buying a computer.

“And you need a magic streaming device if you want to control the volume and stuff yourself,” Pecora added.

“Right! That! You kept streaming into my room, and I couldn’t even lower the volume! It was awful!” I’d had no choice but to watch Pecora’s streams back in the day. I didn’t have one of those devices, so there was no way around it. “Also, the sage we’re visiting just wants to quietly train in the desert, so we shouldn’t make her too famous… But I guess it’s not that easy, is it? I’m sure the talent agency wants her to stand out as much as possible. What a dilemma…”

Considering she was living like a hermit in the desert, I felt safe in assuming she didn’t want to stand out. Her agency, however, would have conflicting priorities, and I wasn’t sure what to do about that.

“Oh, I’ll take care of it,” said Pecora. “If the sage doesn’t want to show up on stream, I’ll respect her wishes! I have to be responsible, considering my follower count. I wouldn’t want them to drag her to oblivion, after all!”

So the concept of cyberbullying has made the jump to this world? I’ve been alive for three hundred years, but it feels like civilization’s been advancing in leaps and bounds these past few years alone.

And so I set out for the asphalt spirit’s quiet desert abode, accompanied by Laika, Smarsly, and the demon king—though in this case, it would probably be more accurate to call her Pecora the ultra-popular magic streamer. The trip would be too tiring for Laika to fly us the whole way, so we took wyverns instead.

We touched down in the first town we came to in the desert, where we swapped out our wyverns for camels. I’d recently visited another desert, which had been remarkably different from this one.

Turns out there’s more than one type of desert. This one is just as hot, though…

“Hey, are you doing okay, Smarsly? Not going to melt, are you?” I asked.

Smarsly was small enough that it hadn’t needed a whole camel to itself, so it had bounced up onto mine and was now riding right in front of me. It sort of wibbled in my direction, which I took to mean it was doing just fine for the time being.

“I would have been able to take us directly to the sage, Lady Azusa,” Laika noted. She seemed to be doing better than ever thanks to the heat.

“I know, but she’s doing the whole hermit thing, right? I thought a huge dragon showing up and landing next to her home might upset her. I’m betting she’ll be a little touchy, so we should tread lightly at the beginning.”

This whole excursion had taken a lot of time to prepare for, and the last thing I wanted was for the spirit to get upset and send us home.

“Plus, it’s not that far of a trip this time! The camels will get us to her just fine,” I added.

Smarsly, meanwhile, spent the whole trip constantly glancing around. Traveling through a desert must have been a real novelty for it.

After two hours of riding through the desert, a small stone building came into view on the horizon.

“That must be where the hermit who’s famous for fasting lives!” said Pecora, who was acting like a total tourist by that point.

“Well, it’s not like there are any other buildings around. That must be the place,” I said.

Smarsly hopped excitedly atop my camel. It was definitely looking forward to this meeting.

The question is, what’s she going to be like?

We brought our camels to a stop and approached the building. I knocked on its door.

“Um, excuse me? Is this the local hermit’s home?” I called out.

I barely had to wait a second before the door opened.

“It is, yes. You are indeed speaking with the asphalt spirit, Moryake.”

A short-haired spirit girl stepped out to greet us. The way she was dressed seemed a little shabby to me, though on reflection, spending all your time fasting in the desert would do that to a person.

“We came here to— Actually, no, it’d probably be better to let Smarsly speak for itself,” I said. I laid out the slime’s keyboard-like piece of fabric on the ground, and it immediately started hopping from letter to letter.

“Oh really? You wish to see how a desert hermit lives her life? Very well, then. If you desire to witness my fast, then witness it you shall.”

Her fast, huh? I guess that is what she’s famous for, but is fasting really something you can make a show out of? What is there to watch…?

It’s not like we have weeks to stick around and keep an eye on her, and even if we did, wouldn’t that be incredibly boring? That said, my initial impression is that she seems calm and reasonable, as far as hermits go. Maybe she’s not all talk.

Laika seemed to have high expectations for the spirit as well. In a sense, the house in the highlands was similarly removed from the hustle and bustle of city life. My home’s location could have easily been the location of a monastery, and you could say that Laika was leading something of an ascetic lifestyle herself.

  I said something along those lines to Shalsha once, and she told me, “It’s true that our home resembles many people’s image of a monastery, Mom. However, monasteries can be built in a variety of locales. Broadly speaking, there are remote monasteries, rural monasteries, and urban monasteries. Out of those three categories, only remote monasteries tend to be built in quiet, secluded places like this. Furthermore, the demographics of our household mean it would be more accurately called a convent rather than a monastery.” That whole explanation went straight over my head, though, so I continued to think of Laika as something like an ascetic monk.

At that precise moment, we heard a very loud voice completely unsuited to the solemn atmosphere around us.

“Hello, hellooo! Pecking at your heart and pecking at your eyes, it’s Provato Pecora Ariés, on the scene! And boy oh boy, do I have a fun stream in store for you tonight! Don’t touch that dial, viewers!”

She’s in full-blown whatever-tuber mode!

“Pecora, no! This is really, really not the time for that! At least say hello to her first!”

“Huuuh? But giving the audience the feeling that they’re really watching you live is so important! Anyway, today, we’ll be paying a visit to a certain hermit whose fasting regime has made her famous! I wonder what sort of fasting techniques she’ll share with us? I’d sure love to learn some diet tips while I’m here!”

For a second, I wondered why Pecora was acting like the camera was already rolling—and then I noticed Fighsly off to the side, pointing some sort of weird artifact straight at her!

Okay, so she really is on camera after all… And come to think of it—

“Since when were you here, Fighsly?!”

“I didn’t detect her presence at all,” said Laika. “If she used some sort of martial technique to avoid my notice, then it’s an impressive one indeed…”

Laika may have been impressed, but I was downright confused.

“Huh?” said Pecora. “Oh, we had a lot to prepare for this stream, so she came out yesterday to pregame the place.”

So she was already here! And what do you mean, “pregame the place”? Is that some sort of magic streaming industry slang? You mean she got here yesterday to set up, right?

“Oh my. It’s Pecora herself… You’re a real celebrity,” said Moryake. “I’d like your autograph later, if possible. I’ll have to make an extra effort to show off the grandeur of my fasting.”

I’m starting to get the sense that she’s more famous as a streamer than she is as the demon king…

“She lives in seclusion, but she still wants a celebrity’s autograph…?” Laika muttered skeptically. “That’s a surprisingly worldly desire.”

Oh no. I think our hermit’s mask is already starting to slip.

“Well then, I have prepared everything I need to display my fasting in the next room, so let us begin at once! You shall witness as I emerge victorious against my own hunger!”

With that, Moryake stepped into the next room. The rest of us filed in after her.

“What do you think she needed to prepare before she could fast?” I whispered to Laika.

“I’m afraid I haven’t a clue,” she replied.

The moment I stepped into the room, my eyes fell upon a table…

…that was so covered with extravagant dishes, it looked like a full-course meal laid out all at once!

“This looks more like a feast than a fast!” I shouted, unable to stop myself. “I’m no expert, but doesn’t fasting mean only eating plain bread, water, and salt, or foraging for berries, or something? This is downright lavish!”

“Ooh, excellent callout, Elder Sister! I can always count on you to point the finger at absurdity! You didn’t even hesitate!”

That was a very weird thing for Pecora to compliment me on, but this was no time to get sidetracked, so I ignored her.

“No, no, please, do not misunderstand. This is a fast, I assure you,” Moryake said as she sat down before the full-course meal.

“I shall now sit before this glorious feast and not eat a single bite, withstanding temptation for three hours! Behold the might of ascetic fasting!”

“Way to waste food!”

I mean, that does explain why she had so much to prepare, but in three hours, all that food will be stone-cold, and— Huh? Wait. She said “for three hours,” right…? Yeah, she definitely did, so does that mean…?

“Are you going to eat all that after the three hours are over…?” I asked.

“But of course. It would be truly wasteful to discard food that was prepared with such care. The blessings of the heavens are to be consumed in full, down to the last crumb. That is the proper way to live.”

“You could’ve just not cooked it!”

“Ooh, now what do we have here?” said Pecora. “This is an impressive assortment of scrumptious dishes indeed! I’m starting to feel a little hungry myself!” By now, she had fully shifted into her magic streamer persona.

Just then, Fighsly stepped up to the table and added another dish full of food to it.

“Oh? It’s okay for me to eat that one? Thanks so much!  ” said Pecora. She then started chowing down in front of Moryake without missing a beat. “Mmm!   It’s seasoned differently from most demon food, but it’s still very tasty!  ”

Fighsly was still pointing the mystery artifact at Pecora, presumably filming the whole scene. Meanwhile, on the other side of the table, Moryake the hermit was clenching her teeth.

“Delicious! It all looks so delicious, but my fast has only just begun! If I eat now, my training will have been for naught! Endure! Endure, O flesh of mine!”

“Could this possibly get any stupider?!”

“If I just stay strong for a mere three hours more, I will be able to eat my fill! Hunger is the greatest of spices! Until then, I must endure!”

“I knew you were going to stuff your face the second the three hours were up!” I exclaimed. “I don’t know what this is, but it sure isn’t fasting!”

“This is my monumental thousandth fast! I shall not be vanquished!”

She sounds an awful lot like people from my past life who kept trying to quit smoking but couldn’t keep it up. They’d say things like “This is the seventh time I’ve managed to quit,” but they hadn’t really managed to quit at all… Then again, it’s not like she asked us to come out and visit her. This was our plan from the start, so what right do we have to complain about her eccentricities…?

I was, however, worried that Laika—and even more so, that Smarsly—would be disappointed by the so-called sage. I glanced over at Laika and saw an icy expression on her face.

Oh… That’s worse than disappointment. That’s the look you give someone when you’ve stopped caring about them entirely.

“I see now, Lady Azusa, that to live a well-ordered life is difficult indeed,” she said, her tone dull and her expression vacant. “All it takes is the slightest hint of conceit to turn a sage into a fool. I understand well how vital it is that I keep my own pride in check.”

“I don’t think the problem’s quite that deep, in her case… But yeah, that’s a good attitude to have,” I agreed. I made a mental note to never, ever go around self-identifying as a great witch.

What about Smarsly, though? I hope it’s not so disappointed it melts away on the spot…

I made eye contact with Smarsly (or the slime equivalent of eye contact anyway), and it immediately started hopping around on its keyboard cloth.

“Um, let’s see… The way she’s turned breaking her ascetic vows into its own kind of ascetic practice is fascinating…? That’s…an extremely generous take.”

Smarsly wasn’t done typing yet. Judging by how light and easy its movements were, I got the sense it wasn’t too upset.

“Rest assured that I’m not disappointed at all, huh? Well, if you say so. I’ll take your word for it, Smarsly.”

Our lifestyles were just too different for me to imagine what was going on in Smarsly’s mind. But if it was okay with how this had turned out, then that was good enough for me. It seemed to appreciate that we were less than impressed with the person we’d come all this way to visit, yet it still thought she was fascinating.

Maybe it’s pleased to have the chance to study a weird, offbeat hermit. I guess in that light, this could be a valuable experience in its own way.

Pecora cleaned her plate, and almost immediately, Fighsly returned with another piping-hot serving of food for her.

“Here’s the next course, Your Majesty!” said Fighsly. “This one’s the fasting hermit’s favorite dish: an oven-baked cheese gratin! It’s fresh out of the oven, so be careful!”

She’d left the artifact resting on the table—I figured that meant she was currently filming from a fixed angle. I was pretty impressed by her work ethic, considering she was serving as both cameraman and director.

“Oh, well doesn’t this look delicious?!   What do you think, Miss Hermit? Tell our viewers how the dish looks to you, please!  ”

“Aaagh, I would shovel that whole thing into my mouth right now if I could! I wouldn’t even care about the burns! But I shan’t! I am in the midst of my training! I must not eat so much as a morsel for another two and a half hours! I shall not drool excessively! I shall clear my mind and think of nothing!”

It seems like they’re enjoying themselves, at least…

“Ooh, just look at that cheese pull!   Nothing tastes better than cheese gratin when you eat it right in front of someone who’s fasting! This is at least three times tastier than it would usually be!”

That’s just plain evil! She’s really in character as the demon king!

At that point, Pecora turned to look straight into the camera.

“This, dear viewers, is pure bliss!”

I could practically see the words pure bliss pop up in front of her face in big block letters. There’d probably be some reverb on her voice, too.

Fighsly ended up bringing portions of the cheese gratin to me and Laika as well.

“Here you go! I had a feeling you’d be bored during the recording, so I thought you’d like something to eat,” she explained.

So she’s straight-up calling it a recording now… It’s hard to believe we ever had a halfway decent reason to be here…

The cheese gratin was really tasty, though, and it seemed to cheer Laika up quite a bit. A good meal made it hard to stay negative.

“Were you the one who made this, Fighsly?” Laika asked. She held good cooks in the highest of esteem and was the sort of person who would call out a restaurant’s chef after a particularly good meal to pay her compliments.

“Yeah, that was me. We’re in a hermit’s hut in the middle of the desert, so I had to make do with ingredients that keep well. Cheese has a pretty long shelf life, you know.”

I guess you can’t casually go out for groceries in a place like this, but I’m still not convinced any real ascetic training happens out here…

Dessert came next. Pecora was served a pudding-like dish, a spoonful of which she held in front of Moryake’s face.

“Come on, say ‘aah’! It’s delicious, I promise!  ”

“I shan’t! If I eat, it means my fast has failed!”

Your time frame for this fast’s success or failure is way too short! Anyone could spend a few hours without eating!

After dessert, Pecora started personally putting together a dish atop the table.

“The key to this dish is cramming as many chili peppers into it as you possibly can! If chilies don’t grow where you live, then just catch a wyvern and fly somewhere where you can get your hands on some.”

Pecora threw pepper after pepper into a cooking pot. My eyes were stinging just being nearby, and it looked like Laika was in the same boat…

“Lady Azusa, I’m crying!” she exclaimed. “I can’t stop the tears! I’ve never seen an attack quite like this before!”

“I’ve heard that spicy food stimulates your pain receptors instead of your taste buds, but this is taking it a step too far!”

Tears were dripping down Moryake’s cheeks as well.

“This is painful, yes, but the pain has dulled my appetite! Less than half the time limit remains! I shall persist, and I shall prevail!”

I don’t even know what’s happening here anymore!

During the second half of the fast, Pecora had Moryake’s top five favorite foods brought out in order. It was a pretty devious plan, but the hermit pushed through and endured, every step of the way… Not that her efforts were particularly impressive, in my opinion. It would probably be harder to find someone who truly couldn’t hold out.

In the end, Moryake wound up covering her eyes with her hands. “If I can’t see, then my appetite can’t be stimulated! I shall use blindness to my advantage and overcome this trial! My spirit shall never falter! My mind is as still and clear as the surface of a placid lake! My fast shall succeed!”

Your spirit’s done plenty of faltering already!

“They say that when delicious food is laid before one’s eyes, one cannot help but drool at the sight of it. Today, I have experienced for myself how true that really is!”

That would sound a lot more impressive if it wasn’t super obvious.

“Um, Miss Pecora?” said Moryake. “I would very much like to distract myself at the moment. Perhaps we could make small talk?”

“Oh, but the whole point of fasting is to gain a sense of self-satisfaction through adversity, isn’t it? If you’re going to ruin that for yourself by diminishing the adversity, you might as well just eat something now! That way you’ll be satisfied in a totally different way!  ”

Leave it to the demon king to offer up a devil’s temptation!

At long last, the time limit—which was excruciatingly long by Moryake’s standards and barely noticeable for anyone else—was just about to come to an end.

“Okay, five seconds left!” said Pecora. “Five, four, three, two, one, zero! Your fast is complete! Congratulations!”

“Once again, I have emerged triumphant!” Moryake shouted as she pumped her fists. For the record, that was not a gesture I ever expected to see from a hermit. “And now, I shall eat! Mmm! Delicious! Truly delicious!” she said between mouthfuls as she dug in on the spot.

“And that’s all for our broadcast today! Don’t forget to subscribe, everyone!  ”

Fighsly pressed some sort of button on the artifact, and the light it had been emitting went out.

“Phew! That’s a wrap, Miss Hermit,” said Pecora. “Great work! I think this should really get your name out to the masses.”

“Many thanks. I’m certain the Desert Talent Agency will be thrilled,” said Moryake, offering Pecora a polite and proper bow.

“So I was thinking that if this stream gets a good reaction, we can play a game in the next one where we each pick out a bunch of foods we love and one food we hate, then take turns guessing which of the other’s foods they can’t stand! What do you think?”

“Ah, yes, that sounds fine…”

Oh? Our resident hermit doesn’t sound so enthusiastic, all of a sudden. Is she the sort of person whose personality shifts when she’s on camera? I’ve heard that a lot of celebrities who act like full-blown entertainers on TV are actually pretty quiet and subdued in their day-to-day lives.

Moryake let out a lengthy sigh, then muttered to herself, “Ugh… Is there any point in me doing these things…? Nay, I think not.”

For just a moment, her expression was as vacant as Laika’s.

Smarsly started hopping around on its keyboard cloth. “As expected,” it wrote.

Huh? Does that mean it’s figured something out about her?

Moryake stepped over to Smarsly and sat down on the floor in front of it. “You must have thought this most laughable, did you not, honorable Smarsly? Truth be told, I feel the same way. It would appear I have chosen poorly in following this path.”

“Um, excuse me,” said Laika, a look of astonishment crossing her face. “Should we take that to mean everything you just did was an act?”

“It was indeed, honorable sage of the dragons.”

Oh, so she recognizes Laika as a fellow sage.

“I’m no sage! I’m not worthy of such a title… But, well, if that was an act, then why…?”

Smarsly moved across its keyboard once more, answering in the hermit’s place. To sum it up, the slime’s explanation went roughly like this:

• A piece of literature from the demon lands listed the asphalt spirit as a famous hermit.

• That piece of literature was very old, however, and there seemed to be no records of that spirit from more recent dates.

• Within the last hundred years or so, an individual calling herself the asphalt spirit entered the public eye under the direction of the Desert Talent Agency.

• That individual could have claimed the name of the asphalt spirit despite being totally unrelated to her, or otherwise could have been the asphalt spirit herself, simply choosing to try something new for a change.

• Smarsly wanted to confirm which of those theories was true.

• Smarsly now felt certain that she was, in fact, the real spirit.

Laika looked downright mystified.

“So you mean to say that this woman really was a distinguished hermit in the past?!”

Moryake heaved a sigh. “I’m afraid agreeing with you would mean calling myself ‘distinguished.’ Moreover, ‘a famous hermit’ is an oxymoron—a denial of the very nature of the word. If a hermit is famous, you can be certain their practice is nothing more than a publicity stunt.”

Couldn’t have put it better myself!

“For many a long year, I lived hidden amid the desert sands. Some walked the desert in search of me, hoping to hear what words of wisdom I had to offer, and it was on their account that I was stricken with doubt.”

“Doubt? How so?” asked Laika. This sort of thing interested her, so there was no need for me to butt in.

“I am an asphalt spirit—close in nature to the dirt and the sand. Thus, is it not natural for me to live in a desert? And if it is natural for me to live here, then does it not seem wrong to call me a hermit for doing so?”

““Now that you mention it…!”” Laika and I exclaimed in harmony. It’d be one thing if she were an ocean spirit living in a desert, but for an asphalt spirit, this was more or less her home turf.

“Time and time again, I was told how incredible and admirable it was that I had lived in the desert for so very long. But to me, this is simply natural. And so I began to worry that my reputation had become overinflated through no virtue of my own…”

Her self-perception didn’t line up with the high value society had placed on her, putting her in a fix. I could certainly relate to that—it was something I’d experienced as well.

“And so several hundred years ago, I traveled all the countries of the world on foot in an effort to reexamine myself. My wanderings, however, were fruitless, and around a hundred years ago, I returned to this land. That’s when the people from the talent agency sought me out.”

She’s lived a more impressive life than I thought.

“The talent agents said this: ‘A new age is dawning, and in this new era, hermits will need to be connected to society more than ever before. Won’t you join our firm as one of our talents? We’ll handle all your interview appointments!’”

“You must have smelled like money to them. I know how that feels,” said Fighsly with a confident nod.

Of course she could relate.

“That, in and of itself, was not a problem for me. Many came to me seeking to speak with a hermit, and one trait hermits share with the common folk is the irritation they feel when visitors arrive without warning. I had wished for a means to limit those visitations, and being able to direct people to my agency would make turning them down much easier, so I agreed to sign on with them.”

Something about associating the words hermit and talent agency felt wrong to me, but then again, I couldn’t fault her logic.

“However, I felt terribly obliged toward the agency. They gained nothing from our arrangement, and so for the past several decades, I have been trying out new ways to present myself. Hence the display you just witnessed.”

I tapped Laika’s shoulder.

“Hey, Laika? Looks like the description in the book Momma Yufufu showed us was right after all.”

“Come to think of it, it did say that she wasn’t very sociable, didn’t it?”

It had completely slipped my mind thanks to the high-energy persona she’d had going when we first arrived, but it was likely the asphalt spirit’s true nature was much more solitary.

“And that’s why you decided to make up the fasting shtick and see if it would sell, right?” Pecora said as she chewed a piece of bread. I felt certain she’d been taught table manners, but she was gleefully talking with her mouth full, regardless.

“Exactly,” said Moryake. “And I did indeed spend fifty years subsisting on bread, water, and salt long ago, but what of it? Does limiting the food I eat make me worthy of praise? If so, then all those who have died of starvation are the greatest sages to have ever lived. The very thought is absurd. And so now, I simply eat the same way everyone else does.”

I get it. Sounds like she’s tried out a whole bunch of different lifestyles over the years.

“And yet,” Moryake said, before pausing to take a long, deep breath.

“I find my current lifestyle vacant and unfulfilling. What is the point of fasting a hundred times, or a thousand…? Is that truly amusing to witness?”

“Yeah, you can’t take stuff like that too seriously!”

It was a tough situation, all right. If Moryake wanted to be popular, she had to follow the current trends, and the way I saw it, you couldn’t be cynical or insincere about stuff like that. Besides, most of the people who jumped onto trends enjoyed them knowing perfectly well that they weren’t meant to last…

Moryake stood up from her seat.

“Now then, honorable Smarsly, I’m sure you have grown bored of hearing my life story. Let us talk of other matters. I shall guide you downstairs. The rest of you may follow, if you so choose.”

I didn’t see any particular reason to refuse, so I followed Moryake down the staircase.

I reached the bottom of the stairs—and found myself in a library practically overflowing with books! For some reason, Smarsly was acting very strangely. It was bouncing like crazy, but that part wasn’t particularly unusual. The strange thing was that it was bouncing onto and off the bookshelves, careening around the chamber like a bouncy ball someone had hurled with all their strength. A loud, sharp bam resounded each time the slime smacked into one of the walls.

“What’s going on, Smarsly?” I asked.

“Oh, so you do understand! This room holds a multitude of tomes and manuscripts from an old human nation. There may well be books here that not even the honorable Smarsly has read before,” said Moryake. She sounded a little pleased by Smarsly’s reaction and must have been happy to find someone with an appreciation for her interests.

I turned to glance at Pecora. This seemed like a good moment for us to make ourselves scarce and give the two sages some time to themselves. Pecora met my gaze and nodded.

All right! Looks like we’re on the same page—

And then for some reason, Pecora closed her eyes and started leaning toward me!

“Nope! Stop! You’re definitely picking up the wrong signals!”

“Aww, really? But I was so sure you wanted to share a sisterly kiss!”

“As if! Also, how could this possibly be the right time for that?! There are so many people in the room with us!”

At that point, Laika quietly slid between me and Pecora. “No, Miss Pecora. Absolutely not,” she said. I couldn’t see her face, but from her tone of voice, I could tell she was smiling. Not a nice smile, though—this was one of the scary ones.

“Hmph… I suppose it would complicate things, so I’ll refrain for now,” Pecora grumbled and stepped away again.

Laika just made the demon king retreat—she really has gotten stronger. Though, on second thought, maybe what just happened between them didn’t have much to do with strength.

While we were distracted by that nonsense, Moryake and Smarsly had struck up a detailed conversation on some specialty topic.

“Oh, the biography of Saint Dalisensor? That one is a forgery, yes. In fact, I have another, even older biography of a completely different person right here, and you’ll note that its first half is exactly the same as that one, word for word.”

Boing, boing!

“The Fifty Precepts of Yalsenjic as well, indeed. They were written two hundred years after Yalsenjic passed away by a flagrant impostor who falsely claimed to be the same individual. You can tell something’s wrong with that one because primary sources from that era say nothing about the precepts whatsoever.”

Boing-boing, boooing!

“Yes, it’s all but certain that the Goddess Nintan’s Book of Liturgical Sincerity was a forgery as well.”

Boing-boing, boing-boing!

Why are they only talking about forgeries?!

I had no clue what was so interesting about such things, but Smarsly looked as excited as could be, so I had to assume it was really engaging for those in the know. I couldn’t help getting the impression that Moryake was talking at the slime rather than with the slime, but I had faith that the exchange really was a two-way street…somehow.

Later on, Moryake treated us to some proper hospitality…in the form of a plate piled high with what looked like sand.

“So, um, I don’t suppose you have any, you know, food…?” I asked hopefully.

There was an old custom back in Japan where you would offer houseguests a particular dish—rice with tea poured over it, basically—as an indirect but clear way of asking them to go home. My best guess was that this was a similar gesture, but if so, I would’ve preferred something edible, at least!

“Actually, that’s a newly developed product meant to evoke the lifestyle of a hermit living in the desert: sugar that looks exactly like sand!”

“Sounds pretty low effort, huh?” Some types of brown and raw sugar already look more or less like sand.

I gave the sugar-sand a tentative lick and found that it really was sweet.

“I must say,” said Moryake, “I’m impressed by the knowledge of one of this world’s three great sages! The honorable Smarsly’s scholarship is a thing to behold.”

She’d settled into a personality so different from the one we’d first encountered, it was sort of hard to believe they were really the same person. Maybe it was natural for people who lived for a ridiculously long time to have that sort of multifaceted character. On the other hand, I knew a number of people who’d lived for ages—Godly Godness, for one—who didn’t give off that sort of vibe at all, so maybe that was just a misconception on my part.

“Perhaps the best thing for me to do is to return to my hermit ways and live as I always have, without forcing the matter. I’ve come to believe I should emulate the honorable Smarsly. I must be as the sand itself: a lump of matter, at rest within the landscape, simply existing.”

If that’s how Smarsly looks to you, I’m pretty sure that’s just because it’s a slime…

“I had thought that simply being a hermit was not enough, so I invented the fasting act and assumed a false persona, but no more! I shall return to living quietly as the simple asphalt spirit that I am.”

I guess if someone in the Three Great Sages Encyclopedia is having a crisis, meeting a fellow sage might be just the thing to help them reach a breakthrough.

“Perhaps I’ll start using asphalt to stick all sorts of objects together next?”

“That’ll just lead to different rumors about you being a weirdo, so I’d recommend finding something else…” Yes, I’ve heard that many cultures have used naturally forming asphalt as an adhesive in the past, but if you overdo it, people might start calling you the glue spirit or some other awful nickname!

“Well, in any case, I plan to simply take my time and live as I will, for now. I have no reason to obsess over being a hermit, but I have no need to flee from the role, either.”

Laika nodded ever so slightly in agreement. She seemed encouraged to see Moryake cast aside her doubts. Laika was a truth-seeking type as well, so she could probably relate.

Just then, a voice rang out.

“But that’s such a waste!”

Fighsly had stood up from her chair and shouted at the top of her lungs. Now she was stomping over toward Moryake.

“Wh-what’s a waste…?” Moryake stammered.

“You’re raking in the cash with your fasting hermit persona, right?! How could you come up with a moneymaker like that and just give it up?! It’s a waste! You gotta make all the dough you can when you have the chance! By the time you catch yourself thinking you should’ve made more when you could, it’s already too late!”

Yep, that’s exactly the objection I’d expect from Fighsly.

“But I have no particular attachment to money…”

“If you don’t need it, then don’t use it. You can still have it! What if you find something you really want to buy a hundred or two years down the line?! Maybe you’ll find some legendary book or whatever, and if you don’t have any money when it happens, you’ll be out of luck! There are plenty of things in this world you can’t do without cold, hard cash on your side!”

She was actually making a pretty well-reasoned point, and Moryake was quickly caving to the pressure. As a scholar, I figured she could deconstruct any number of less logical arguments in an instant.

“I’m a martial artist, you know?” Fighsly continued. “Even I’ve had moments when I ask myself what the heck I’m doing out in a desert, working as the demon king’s magic streaming assistant. But I do it anyway because I know that having the ability to handle all sorts of jobs will give me the marketable skills I need to get ahead anywhere!”

Now she’s just straight-up monologuing.

“If your goal is to take life as it comes and live as you will, then don’t quit when you’re making money! Keep at it until you’re sick and tired of it! Everyone will forget all about it in no time once you give it up, and then you can go back to being a normal hermit, just like that!”

“Don’t you think that argument’s founded on some questionable assumptions?” asked Moryake.

“All I’m saying is that when you have a chance to rake in the cash, you should take it!”

Fighsly had drawn in so close to Moryake, she was practically looming over the poor sage. Moryake, bent over backward, paused for a moment, then slowly replied.

“…All right. I’ll keep being a weird fasting hermit, for the time being.”

“That’s more like it,” Fighsly said with a bright, cheerful smile.

I can’t believe I just witnessed Fighsly talk circles around an eminent hermit…

A few days later, the video of Pecora going to meet the fasting hermit was published by way of magic streaming. It got an impressive number of views, even compared to Pecora’s usual view counts, and word on the street (or rather, in the air, considering said word had been spread by wind spirits) had it that more visitors were making the trek to meet with Moryake than ever.

Momma Yufufu was the one who shared that particular rumor with me when I went over to her place for a visit.

“Watching that video reminded me that I’d met with the asphalt spirit after all! It came back to me the moment I saw her face,” Momma Yufufu said, sounding like she’d just learned an old classmate of hers had become a celebrity since their last meeting.

I had no idea if this turn of events would make Moryake happy, but if worse came to worst, all she had to do was withdraw from her talent agency, so I figured things would work out just fine. Plus, she could consult with Smarsly if she ever had any really pressing worries. I had a feeling Smarsly would make a point of visiting her from time to time now that it knew where she lived.

“Oh, right, that reminds me! I brought a present back for you, Momma Yufufu.”

“Oh? What would that be?”

I pulled out what looked like a bag of sand.

“It’s sugar meant to look like sand. It’s supposed to evoke the lifestyle of a desert hermit.”

Momma Yufufu used some of that sugar right away to whip up a perfectly sweet and delicious rolled omelet for us.

The End