Acknowledgement (Part 1)

“This is so good brother!” A little girl looks at me with a cheerful smile.

“Really?”

“Yeah! All the other ones you made were terrible, so this is a masterpiece in comparison!” The little girl scoops up another mouthful of the food.

“Hahaha… Haa…” I slump my shoulders when a strong burnt smell emanated through the entire room.

“Was I making something?”

…

…..

…….

“…Hrghh…”

I gradually open my eyes, allowing the earthy scent of clay to seep into my senses, mingling with the faint aroma of something burnt that tickles my nostrils.

“Burnt?”

I slowly sit myself up, my back and neck hurts a lot. With a slight wince, I perform a few stretches to ease the tension before finally rising from my resting spot in the workshop.

Leaving the workshop behind, I head towards the kitchen, scratching my stomach as I go. I then step into the kitchen,

“…”

“…”

I lock eyes with the perpetrator of the burnt aroma, their posture tense. In their hand, a knife is held, and their gaze locks on me with their eyes dilated.

“…M-Morning…” The perpetrator, Celicia said with a stiff smile.

“Good morning…” I stare dead into her, then I walk forward and look at the charred meat sitting on the table, followed by a wok that is submerged in the sink.

“…”

“…What were you trying to make?” I ask, Celicia’s shoulder still drooped, and her gaze stuck towards the floor, looking as if she’s being punished for doing something bad.

“…Some boar meat…”

“Did you cook it without lowering the fire?”

“…” Celicia meekly nods.

“Haah…” I put my hands on my hips. I strain my ears and pay attention to my surroundings, noticing no sounds in this house. I ask Celicia, “Did your mom go somewhere?”

“…Yeah… She was in a hurry, so she can’t prepare anything for us…” Celicia explained as she continues to avoid eye contact.

“…What about that porridge though?” I point at a plate sitting next to the burnt meat.

“Oh… I made that for Grandpa Algar. He has a hard time chewing, so we made that for him…” Celicia said as she looks at the plate with her upper eyelids drooping.

“…I see…”

I’m guessing she’s talking about that one person that appeared when we had that discussion yesterday. So that’s her grandpa huh…

“…”

“…I’ll make something for you.” I quickly walk past her and head towards a nearby fridge to see what’s in stock.

“Eh? You can cook?” Celicia asks.

“A little bit, yeah. You can just sit down and keep me company…” I said as I scrounge through the fridge.

“Oh, Grandpa and Dad will be here soon, so can you make some for him as well?” Celicia asks.

“Sure… You already made one for Grandpa, so I just have to make an extra for your dad, right?” I ask as I continue scrounging through the fridge.

“Yeah… Thank you…” Celicia said with her voice trailing off.

“…Thank me after you ate it, okay?”

“…Okay.”

“…”

---

“Woaaaaah~! What is this…?” Celicia asks, her ears wiggling up and down.

She kind of looks like a dog. That’s pretty cute…

“This is Tonkatsu, a food from my home. There’s a lot of leftover meat in the fridge, so I decided to go with this.” I explained.

The plate only has fried boar meat takes center stage, accompanied by a sauce reminiscent of ketchup. However, a distinct tanginess sets this sauce apart—it's sourer than its familiar counterpart. Oddly enough, the pairing surprisingly works well, resulting in a decent taste.

Celicia grabbed a piece with her fork and put it in her mouth. As she took a bite, her eyes widened, revealing a subtle dilation of her pupils.

“This is really good! I’m practically eating Honeymaw food for free!” She said as she mauls on the food.

Is my food really that good? I’m assuming Honeymaw is some sort of luxurious restaurant judging from her reaction, which is a bit of an overreaction for some simple home dish, but I’m really glad that she’s enjoying it.

“I’m surprised you can make food like this son… Why do you want to work in marketing instead of being a professional chef? It’s such a waste…”

“Our Yuuma did say that he wants to keep it strictly as a hobby, so we should let him do what he wants, dear. Hehehe….”

“…”

“Oh? Something smells nice…”

Celicia’s father walks into the kitchen whilst pushing a wheelchair with Celicia’s grandpa on it.

“Good morning… Uhh…”

“It’s Crutz.”

“G-Good morning… Mr. Crutz…” I stare into his eyes. He then tilts his head while crossing his arms. I continue, “Uhh, do you want some?” I point towards the saucepan where there are some leftovers.

“I want more!” Celicia abruptly cuts in, bringing her plate to my face.

“O-Okay…” I immediately grab the plate and head toward the kitchen table to add more to Celicia’s plate.

Hehe… Guess she really likes my food huh…

“I want some too!” Mr. Crutz sits down, barking orders. He continues, “Also, bring his porridge as well!” Mr. Crutz points at Grandpa.

“O-Okay…”

Well, I’d take this than that awkward mood we had a few minutes any day.

I take the porridge and Celicia’s share to the table first, followed by my share and Mr. Crutz’s share as well.

As Celicia continues to munch on her second time, Mr. Crutz took the first bite. He closes his eyes as he munches through the meat, and then his eyes dilated after he had swallowed it.

“This is good…” Mr. Crutz mutters.

Crutz then silently munches the food at a fast pace, with each bite making his stern look slowly becoming more animated.

“That’s good…”

I pick up one of the meats with my fork and got ready to put it in my mouth—

“Hey… When Clairene asked you if there’s something you’re good at, why did you answer no?” Mr. Crutz suddenly cuts in.

“…Is it really?” I fix my gaze on the plate, playing around with the meat, “Back where I’m from, these kinds of food are pretty common to find…”

“Are you from a rich family?!” Mr. Crutz suddenly yells out.

“Don’t scream dad.” Celicia grabbed her plate and headed towards the kitchen.

“No—no. My family is normal. Everyone in my world eats these kinds of food…” I explained.

“Woow… We’d have to sell our organs if we want to eat food this good…” Mr. Crutz said as he looks at his plate.

Is it really that valuable? I’m only a decent home cook at best, so it feels weird to be complimented this much.

“But…”

When was the last time someone praised me this much? It’s been so long to hear comforting words that I forgot how much it can make me feel gratified…