“Ahhhh…” A relieved sigh escaped my mouth. “That was scary.”
As soon as I set out for my house, that lady was waiting for me. Her eyes remained fixed on mine the entire time. I wasn't some extroverted weirdo, for goodness' sake; prolonged eye contact will make me lose my bearings.
At least she was sensible. I had offered to return the lamp as a kind of apology, but she didn't respond. I could only assume that she was gracious enough to let me keep it. I knew without question it wasn't out of the goodness of her heart; she probably didn't want to touch something that the kid with the contagious disease had handled. However, choosing to believe in the kindness of the world would allow me to sleep better tonight.
I did try to ask her to keep the fact that I left my house a secret, employing the most business-like tone I could summon, courtesy of my past life experiences. However, the fear in her eyes, probably because she thought that she'd contract my disease, left me uncertain about her willingness to comply. This encounter likely only reinforced her conviction that they needed to eliminate the hazard-spreading six-year-old.
“Ahhhhhhh…” This prospect took an even longer sigh out of me.
I had woken up a bit later than usual, but that was okay; I didn't have any way to keep track of the time anyway. Along with the things I normally packed for the river, I brought the lamp, a wooden spoon, and some dry bread for lunch.
I left the water to boil, as per routine, and prepared for my new job.
“Time to make some soap!”
Step 1: Melt the fat. How am I going to do that if I don't have a metallic container that I can carry to the riverside? Behold... My recently acquired lamp! It is made of metal, so of course, I was going to put it to good use.
Given that it was already in use as a lamp, the fat was almost perfect tallow. I simply threw away the lamp wick, pushed aside some bits and pieces of solid fat, and my job was done.
Step 2: Um… Mix the ash in the fat?
“Oh! The ash is a DIY sodium hydroxide, so I should mix it with the water.”
Honestly, I had no idea about the water-to-ash ratio that I should be aiming for here. But I figured it shouldn't be too diluted, so in the end, by holding out on the water, I had a gray muddy mess, which certainly didn't feel right. So I ended up using enough water to dilute all of the ash.
Step 3: Just throw everything in the lamp that I'm using as a pan, and that's it. What? Does it sound too easy to be true? Is important to keep in mind that I have absolutely no clue of how long it will take to become functional soap. So from here on out, I had to keep the fire going until the gods graced me with the finished product.
Stirring, stirring, stirring.
“Man, my arm hurts!”
Stirring, stirring, stirring.
“Do I really have to get more firewood?”
Stirring, stirring, stirring.
“This smells way worse than I thought it would…”
The fire cracked, and the lamp bubbled. As a dedicated alchemist, I pressed on, the sun tracing its course from east to west across the cloudless sky. The once-gray mixture had begun to show signs of transformation, with the fat and ash blending into a less useless substance.
Stirring, stirring, stirring, stirring, stirring, stirring, stirring, stirring, stirring, stirring, stirring, stirring, stirring, stirring, stirring, stirring, stirring, stirring, stirring, stirring, stirring, stirring, stirring, stirring.
“Is night already!?” Exhaustion had settled in, my arms ached like hell, firewood grew scarce, and, at long last, after what felt like an eternity, the contents in the lamp thickened, adopting a more soap-like consistency.
“Okay…” I had to pause, taking a moment to catch my breath. “Screw it!”
Falling on my back, sprawled like a starfish in the dirt, I cursed this body once again. I knew it would take some time; even with all the modern technology, it still required hours of boiling to achieve the right consistency. I understood it, but that knowledge didn't prevent me from feeling utterly drained inside.
It was peculiar; I had been living as this child for a week, but throughout my entire life, I had never worked so hard for so long.
“I'm too tired to go back…”
“-■.”
Their voices sounded so distant.
“■■■!”
But it didn't matter how much you struggled to stay afloat.
“Are you hearing me?!”
Someone would always pull you back underwater.
“Of course I am.”
“I repeated this so many times!” Her screams were closer now; it seemed my mind was back in my body. “Your ■■■■ can't work forever!”
I knew that. I had already struggled with that. I had bashed my head against the wall over it. I just couldn't do it. My hands were small, they got full just with my feelings.
I'm so freaking sorry! I thought.
If there was one thing I desired, it was not to be a nuisance to other people. That was hammered so deeply into my brain that sometimes I wondered if there was anything else inside it. Why do you study? Why do you still talk to your friends? Why do you never leave this room? The answer was always going to be the same: I didn't exist to solve my problems; I lived to run from them. If it inconvenienced anyone, it was a path I wouldn't tread.
Accept gifts? Who do you think I am?
“I know,” I said.
“Then what is this?! Why are you-” her voice grew fainter and farther away. I sensed the start of the lecture, so I ran from it.
Indeed.
Why am I so—
“Eh?” Startled awake, I jolted upright, scanning my surroundings. Confirming my location, I sighed with relief. Yep, still a forest.
The sky had nearly succumbed to darkness, but the outlines of my surroundings remained discernible. It wasn't so deep into the night that I needed to worry about Uncle catching wind of my activities.
The firewood was nearly depleted, with only a few scattered pieces emitting a faint amber glow. The lamp had already cooled, and the contents inside resembled a peculiar goo. While it wasn't a perfect soap, it was certainly better than having nothing at all. I promptly began to scrape the lamp with the wooden spoon, transferring the soap into the smaller bow I had been able to find—that was going to be my mold.
I took everything except the lamp back with me to the house. The mold was going to the side of my bed, I considered letting it dry in the sunlight, but recalling something I had read about the potential drawbacks, I opted for the safer route and decided to let it dry indoors.
As soon as I finished tidying up, Uncle appeared at the door.
I escaped by the skin of my teeth, huh. But for some reason, he arched his eyebrows upon seeing me at the bed.
“Where in tarnation were ya?!” He stormed inside the room looking distressed. “Some ghostly figure or whatnot wandered into the chief's place. Seems it scared the daylights outta his missus and made off with their lamp.”
As I thought, something happened… Wait, what?!
“Huh?!”
“Folks reckon them spirits got riled up 'cause we held back on the harvest shindig, so now everyone's scramblin' to get ready for it, pronto.”
No matter how you look at it, isn't the timing of the spirit's intervention awfully convenient? It even took a lamp, just like—
“W-what did the spirit look like?”
“Huh? You askin' 'bout that? I reckon it was some ghostly-lookin' kid or somethin', pale as a ghost.”
A-am I pale? I didn't have a mirror, and the prospect of confronting a different face when looking at myself unsettled me. Consequently, I made a habit of averting my gaze from my reflection when near the river, fearing potential psychological consequences.
Don't tell me… If I thought hard about it, I was already aware that she'd come after me sooner or later. And, for goodness sake, she was an adult! What are adults known for? They always lie through their teeth, and do things that are unfair! There was no chance she'd approach me like some manga hero. The most plausible scenario involved branding me as a demon, involving the church, and subjecting me to the stake.
