Life in the elf village was an entirely new experience.
I had spent my entire life as an imperial noble, so naturally, living in the remote northern wilderness felt utterly foreign—particularly since my new neighbors were none other than elves.
It was sothing I couldn’t have even imagined re days ago.
Yet through an unavoidable series of events, I found myself living among elves.
Ti too, flows like a ga of tag.
When you watch closely it almost seems still, but the second you look away, it already caught up with you.
The sa was true here in the elf village.
The past few days had been a whirlwind.
I spent ti getting to know the dozen or so villagers, exchanging greetings, and trying to adapt to a new way of life.
Before I knew it, I had already flipped several pages on my calendar.
During that ti, I ca to a few realizations.
Among them was that the elves’ food situation was far more dire than I had imagined.
Not long after I first arrived in the village, I received an invitation from Uncle Dolph.
He seed to take a particular liking to during the banquet and went so far as to offer a ho-cooked elven dinner.
I had no reason to refuse.
In fact, I’d been curious about elven cuisine for a while, so I gladly accepted his offer that night and headed to Uncle Dolph’s house together with Ruget.
It turned out to be a shabby hut.
Although I heard that he was the village carpenter, his own ho looked no different from other hos in the village. Given the elves’ circumstances though, it wasn’t surprising.
Construction, after all, is the culmination of nurous skills.
From planning and design to sourcing and processing materials, ‘construction’ encompasses a wide range of skills. For elves, receiving professional training in these aspects was nearly impossible.
That was primarily due to their extre lack of resources.
Hence, among elves, being called a ‘carpenter’ usually just ant that you were handy with tools, rather than soone with formal training.
That was evident from Uncle Dolph’s hut.
No carpenter would skimp on building their own ho, yet his looked identical to those he had built for everyone else.
Of course, that also reflected Uncle Dolph’s character.
He was an honest and straightforward elf that put his all into every task, whether it was for himself or for others.
Additionally, he was a good-hearted neighbor with a selfless nature—though from what I’ve heard he did have the drawback of becoming hot-headed and sowhat tactless after drinking.
However, it wasn’t sothing that I’d witnessed firsthand.
I’d never actually seen Uncle Dolph drunk.
These elves could barely scrape together enough to feed themselves, so there was neither the opportunity nor resources to brew alcohol in the first place.
According to Ruget, they get to drink alcohol maybe once every few years—if at all.
It seed unlikely I’d ever get to see Uncle Dolph in a drunken stupor.
With these thoughts, I entered the hut while chatting with Ruget.
Despite the modest exterior, the interior was cozy and warm. A central stove-cum-fireplace blazed brightly, radiating heat throughout the room.
For a mont, the sudden rush of warmth felt like it was scorching my face.
Southern elves were particularly conscious about heating. They tended to use what might seem like an excessive amount of firewood—perhaps because the coniferous forest provided such an abundant supply.
Everything else, however, was scarce. Firewood was the one resource they could use generously while hosting a guest.
Not that it mattered much to , personally.
Having reached the level of an Expert, my body no longer felt the extres of heat or cold. Even the biting chill of the northern winds wouldn’t affect .
Still, it was only polite to respond to hospitality with gratitude, so I bowed my head and offered a polite greeting.
“Thank you for inviting today, Mr. Dolph... The room is exceptionally warm.”
“Haha, I can’t let a guest who’s co all this way shiver in the cold, now can I?! That aside, you’re all hungry, right?”
His voice carried a strange sense of anticipation.
Uncle Dolph rubbed his hands together eagerly as he spoke, like a child who couldn’t wait to show off so marvelous new toy.
It was characteristic of elves.
Even after centuries of life, they never lost their childlike spirit. At best, they could be called innocent; at worst, naivety. Perhaps that was the secret to their remarkable longevity.
Living for centuries with a heart worn down by life’s trials would be excruciating.
You’d need to treat each day like a blessing, much like a child would.
Seeing Uncle Dolph’s reaction, I couldn’t help but smile as I got more excited.
Just how amazing is the dish that has him so fired up?
Ruget, it seed, felt the sa as I did. Unable to contain his curiosity, he finally asked Uncle Dolph,
“Well, Uncle Dolph. What exactly are you cooking up today that’s got you so excited?”
“Heh heh, trust , even you’ll be quite surprised when you see it!”
Uncle Dolph responded with a cryptic smile, confidence radiating from the faint smile on his lips.
Only when Ruget and I both looked like we were on the verge of bursting with anticipation did Uncle Dolph finally seem satisfied as he made his way to the kitchen.
Our expectations started to peak.
It wasn’t long before Uncle Dolph returned, carrying a large pot.
Wisps of steam escaped through the small gaps beneath the lid.
A peculiar, aty aroma wafted to my nose, sothing I had never slled before.
Could it be a dish made from a creature found only in the north? I could barely contain my excitent.
That was when Uncle Dolph, with his hand as large as the pot’s lid, lifted the cover off the pot.
White steam blurred my vision as the hidden ingredient ca into view.
Animals skinned clean with its raw, reddish flesh exposed.
They were rats.
For a mont, I clamped my mouth shut, at an utter loss for words.
I had thought that they were welcoming , but this was enough to make question whether I’d misunderstood. The situation felt so jarring that I half suspected it might be so kind of cruel joke.
Of course, it didn’t take long for that doubt to crumble.
“Rats... and two of them, no less! Uncle Dolph, how on earth did you catch them?”
“I decided to try making a trap. You know how rats love gnawing with their front teeth, right? So, just in case, I set a piece of wood as bait... and look at that—these foolish rats got themselves caught! Hahaha!”
Ruget let out an exclamation, while Uncle Dolph boasted with a smug look on his face.
Silently, I looked down at the soup in the pot.
It lacked even the most basic vegetables. Besides the rats, there was nothing but so unidentified moss floating in the broth.
Without proper seasoning, the soup emitted a foul, almost nauseating odor.
Not that the rats in the soup were particularly large either. Just two palm-sized rats—offered as a feast, no less.
The watery broth seed like a desperate attempt to make the al appear more substantial . Yet no matter how much one ate, it would still reek of earthy moss and the unpleasant stench of rat at.
Despite all that, Ruget and Uncle Dolph were more thrilled than I had ever seen them.
Seeing them like that left deeply shaken.
“And that’s not all, you see. Just take a good look at this rat’s belly...”
Was there still more to be surprised about?
My gaze drifted blankly to the rat’s carcass. Sure enough, the rat’s stomach, floating on the soup, appeared slightly swollen.
Before I could even ask, Uncle Dolph used a pair of tongs to lift out the bloated rat. With practiced skill, he sliced open its tiny belly before translucent lumps of flesh spilled out.
They were rat fetuses.
I barely managed to suppress the nausea rising in my throat.
Ruget, on the other hand, grew even more excited, his voice growing louder.
“Wow, it’s a pregnant rat! And what’s more, the fetuses are a real delicacy too... We’re unbelievably lucky today!”
“Exactly! But this delicacy is reserved especially for our esteed human guest. He’s the benefactor who shared his bread with us, after all.”
At Uncle Dolph’s pleased tone, Ruget nodded his head in agreent.
A bright smile, filled with genuine goodwill, spread across his face.
“Human, you’ve got good luck. Pregnant rats are nearly impossible to find. Not only is the at nice and plump, but those fetuses have an irresistibly tender texture.”
“Then what will you two eat?”
“Hahaha, don’t worry about us! We’ve still got one whole rat left for ourselves.”
Uncle Dolph laughed heartily, as though it were absurd that I’d even ask—like it was perfectly ordinary for two grown n to share a single rat.
My own expression grew ever more grim.
Out of respect for their hospitality, I felt obliged to at least try it—but I simply couldn’t bring myself to do it. It was possible I could force myself through the rat, but there was no way I could handle the fetuses.
In the end, I decided to make a counteroffer.
“Uncle Dolph, Ruget... I happen to have ingredients that might make this wonderful dish even better. Could you let handle it for a mont?”
Their eyes widened with curiosity.
They had no reason to refuse. The elves were always starving, so if I offered more food, how could they say no?
I did my best with my limited cooking skills.
I added tomatoes, onions, green onions, beef, and a mix of spices, letting everything simr for a good while. Although dinner ended up being served quite late, it was worth it.
Ruget and Uncle Dolph each shed a tear.
“It’s delicious—so rich and savory...”
While Ruget was voicing his admiration, I managed to finish the al without having to eat any rat at. Even so, I was still a bit hesitant to pick up my spoon at first.
I figured that I would adapt to it over ti.
And so, that’s how the dinner ended that night.
Just before I left the hut, Uncle Dolph shook my hand firmly. Wiping away tears of gratitude, he spoke.
“It’s a sha the at lost so of its gaminess, but it’s incredibly delicious otherwise.”
I had deliberately worked to neutralize the gaminess of the at, but apparently, the elves considered that part of the flavor.
It’s true what they say—taste really does adapt to one’s environnt.
Does that an I’ll need to adapt to this type of diet as well?
If it’s just rat at, I suppose I can manage sohow...
Mulling over these thoughts, I spent another day in the elf village. Then, the next morning, my housemate Aviang brought breakfast.
It was a thin, watery porridge. Among the murky broth, I could make out strands of sothing white.
I asked, dumbfounded,
“What is this?”
“It’s tree porridge. It’s one of our staple foods. You peel away the bark, then boil the soft inner layers for a long ti.”
Hah, I couldn’t even muster a hollow laugh.
I simply asked the first question that ca to mind.
“Does it have any nutrients?”
“It’s high in fiber.”
“That’s not sothing you can actually digest.”
At that, Aviang fell silent.
Her flushed face suggested that she was embarrassed to reveal just how dire the elves’ living conditions were—even though it was a reality impossible to hide from now.
With a sigh, I resigned myself to trying it.
When I stirred the porridge with a wooden spoon, the pale fibers clung to it. After a mont’s hesitation, I steeled myself before taking a spoonful.
The thin threads got caught in my mouth as a grassy, raw flavour filled my palate to the point of discomfort.
It was far too unappetizing to be considered a proper staple food. It was also practically devoid of any real nutrition.
It rely served as sothing to fill one’s stomach.
“If you dried this out, you could probably use it as paper...”
Swallowing a bitter laugh, I made up my mind.
I couldn’t adapt to this kind of life.
That left only one option: I would have to improve the villages
food situation myself.
A few days later, I decided to go hunting.
Accompanying were Elder Poff, Isha, and Aviang.
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