Menu no. 6 - Sister and the healer

Okay, sooo this is the sixth day of working at the guild café, the rhythm of my life had finally started to settle. Midday sunlight filtered through the high windows, painting warm streaks across the wooden tables, and the faint scent of roasted beans mingled with the buttery sweetness of fresh pastries. The bustle of yesterday had quieted down, leaving the place comfortably busy rather than overwhelming.

Behind the counter, Gustav stood like a fortress, thick arms folded as he observed the oven. His voice rumbled like distant thunder as he offered yet another round of advice.

“Don’t rush the dough, Daiki. Let it breathe. If you push it too hard, it’ll fight back.”

I nodded, flour streaking across my cheek as I worked the mixture with careful hands. “Like coaxing it into life rather than forcing it, right?”

The old chef gave a satisfied grunt. “Exactly. Bread’s alive, boy. Treat it with respect.”

Simple words, yet they carried weight. Every suggestion Gustav gave me stuck, not because they were complicated, but because they were so natural, like lessons one could carry outside the kitchen.

Gustav Dragunovic is a half-orc built like a giant—broad-chested, muscled, and with a voice that carried across the entire guild hall. Once Alisa said he is a fierce adventurer, he had laid down his weapon after tragedy struck (she doesn't tell the detail about it), and now ruled the guild’s kitchen with the same discipline he once brought to the battlefield. 

The team moved like a well-oiled machine. Arumi flitted between tables, her long hair swaying as she balanced trays of steaming plates, her laughter spilling into the room like a bell. At the front, Alisa managed the quest board and payments, her expression calm yet alert as adventurers crowded around the counter. Gustav commanded the kitchen, while I worked at his side, still learning but slowly becoming more confident.

Every day brought familiar faces too—particularly the rowdy group known as Operation Shadowlight Valkyrie Unit. Quite a mouthful, and I’d only remembered it because Tiara patiently repeated it twice after Kazuha smugly declared it.

“Asuna, you’re being loud again!” Tiara’s voice had that practiced calmness as she tried to rein in her teammate.

“I’m not loud! This is just… enthusiasm!” Asuna retorted, hands on her hips, hair bouncing as she leaned toward me.

Meanwhile, Kazuha tilted his chair back, arms crossed, oozing that faux-cool aura he always seemed to wear. “Don’t pay her too much attention, Daiki. She thrives on it.”

I chuckled, serving them their drinks. “Honestly, you guys brighten the room. Even if your party name is a nightmare to memorize.”

Tiara giggled softly. “I told you, it’s Kazuha’s fault. He insisted on it.”

“Great names make great legends,” Kazuha said, chin tilted arrogantly.

“Or O'great headaches,” Asuna muttered under her breath, earning another laugh from me.

Moments like these gave me warmth. Still, deep inside, a restless part of me whispered. I longed to step beyond these walls, to join the adventurers into the depths of the dungeon. To face monsters, maybe even stand against a Demon Lord… yet reality pressed heavy on my shoulders. Without combat skills, I would only drag a party down. That dream felt distant, like smoke slipping through my fingers.

So the days passed. Comfortable, repetitive, until the second week arrived.

The crash of the guild doors swinging open shattered the calm. Conversations died mid-sentence as a group of adventurers staggered inside, panic carved across their faces. Between them, on a makeshift stretcher, lay a dwarf drenched in blood. His armor was torn, his skin pale, his beard matted crimson.

"Somebody please call sister Arietta!" a man shout.

“Grendoll!” someone on their party shouted.

The name rippled through the guild like a curse. Grendoll Dzagoev—the stout warrior of the Oathbound party, known for his unshakable resilience. Seeing him broken and gasping sent a chill crawling up my spine.

“He was ambushed—something new, some kind of monster—” one of his party members stammered, struggling to hold back tears as they laid him down on the wooden floor.

Alisa’s eyes widened, but her voice was sharp. “Daiki! Fetch Sister Arietta, now!”

“Go kid!” Gustav said firmly, waving me off. “We’ll handle things here.”

I didn’t waste a second. My legs carried me out of the guild, heart hammering in my chest. Sister Arietta? I hadn’t even realized there was a healer living nearby.

“Sister Arietta? Who is she?” I’d asked earlier, breathless as I ran.

“Guild’s sister. Healer too. Lives just behind the Sanctuary of Richtofen,” Alisa had answered quickly.

The name rang in my head as I sprinted through familiar streets. Richtofen. I’d jogged past the sanctuary once or twice in the mornings, though I hadn’t paid much attention. A modest stone building, hardly imposing, but marked by a quiet air of reverence.

When I reached it, my lungs burned. The sanctuary wasn’t large—maybe space for forty people inside at most. It had once been a resting place for soldiers who fought under the legendary hero Richtofen van Hartman. Asuna had told me the story with sparkling eyes one day.

I slipped behind the sanctuary, past a small garden, until I found the modest 3x3 meter dwelling attached to it. Knocking furiously, I called out. “Sister Arietta! We need you!”

The door creaked open, and she stepped out.

I froze.

She was exactly like a vision lifted from the anime of my world—draped in simple, immaculate robes, her veil fluttering in the faint breeze. Her features were serene, framed by hair the color of moonlight, and her eyes . . . . closed? But yet steady, as though she already knew why I had come.

“I am ready,” she said softly.

I blinked. “W-wait, you already knew?”

Her lips curved into a faint smile. “Someone’s life, trembles on the edge. I felt it.”

We hurried back, my questions spilling out between gasps of breath. “You . . . you can sense this? You knew someone was dying?”

“Not sense,” she corrected gently. “See. The future brushes against me sometimes. Shadows and echoes, not always clear, but enough to guide me.”

I nearly tripped in awe. “That’s . . . that’s amazing! Like a gift straight out of a fantasy story.”

She is smiling. “Perhaps." But then the smiles is gone. "Or perhaps just another curse. Let's go.”

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.

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When we returned to the guild, the room had turned into controlled chaos. Adventurers clustered around, some shouting for space, others pale at the sight of Grendoll’s condition. Gustav knelt by the dwarf’s side, blood staining his apron, while Alisa kept people from crowding too close.

The moment Sister Arietta entered, silence fell. She knelt gracefully beside Grendoll, placing her hand over his chest. A glow of pale light blossomed, washing the room in soft warmth. The dwarf’s ragged breathing steadied, though his wounds still looked dire.

“Stay with me Mr.Grendoll,” she whispered, her voice carrying a strength far greater than its gentle tone.

I stood frozen, awe-struck. To witness healing magic up close—it was beyond anything my old world could have imagined. The golden light seemed alive, threads weaving into torn flesh, easing pain, stitching what should have been mortal wounds.

Around me, the adventurers whispered. Fear and relief blended in equal measure. A “new monster” had appeared in the dungeon. Something strong enough to nearly kill a warrior like Grendoll. The weight of that fact hung over us all.

And me? I clutched my flour-dusted hands, heart racing. I wanted—no, needed—to be more than a bystander.

But for now, I could only watch, and wait.