She just stood there, still surrounded by the warm mist from the bathroom, hazy and indistinct, shrouding her entire body in a layer of faint white vapor.
‘When those silver eyes looked over, Flora felt her breath catch.’
‘Not fear.’
‘It was a… indescribable feeling.’
‘It was as if she had seen something too beautiful, so beautiful it seemed it shouldn’t exist in this world.’
Ilya walked over, her steps light, barely making a sound against the floor. When she passed by Flora, Flora caught her faint scent.
This time the fragrance wasn’t the usual cold, sharp kind; it was a warm, soft scent mixed with the lingering steam.
Ilya sat down in another chair, picked up a dry towel, and began to dry her hair.
Her movements were slow and graceful. As the towel rubbed through her hair, the strands tangled and then fell back down, damp and shiny.
Flora watched her, forgetting to look away.
Ilya felt her gaze, turned her head, and glanced at her.
“What is it?”
Flora snapped out of it and quickly looked away.
“Nothing,” she said, her voice a little softer than usual.
But then Flora stole another glance.
Ilya’s profile looked impossibly soft in the light. The usual cold distance was washed away by the moisture, leaving only a quiet, gentle feeling that made you want to get closer.
‘She suddenly remembered the way Ilya had smiled by the river.’
‘Was it the same person?’
‘The one who had smiled with crinkling eyes and splashed around with her in the water—was that the same person as this quiet, cold one now?’
“Mother,” Flora spoke.
“Mhm.” Ilya didn’t look up, continuing to dry her hair.
“What do you want for dinner?”
Ilya’s motion paused.
She looked up at Flora, her eyes holding something Flora couldn’t read.
“Cornmeal porridge,” she said.
Flora was taken aback.
Cornmeal porridge was an ordinary food among humans, but then again, the demon race rarely made it. Still, if Ilya wanted it, she could have had it in the castle. Why would she say that now?
‘Just for the sake of a simple, original flavor?’
‘Not worth it.’
‘After all, it’s just cornmeal porridge.’
“Cornmeal porridge?”
“Mhm.”
After saying that, Ilya was silent for a few seconds, then spoke again, her voice very light.
“I heard it’s a specialty on the human side. Very ordinary, but hardly anyone makes it among the demon race.”
She paused.
“I just want to try it. Nothing else.”
Flora looked at her and felt as if there was something more hidden behind those words.
But she didn’t press further. She just nodded in agreement.
“Sure,” Flora said cheerfully. “Then we’ll have cornmeal porridge for dinner.”
Ilya nodded and continued drying her hair.
Flora thought for a moment. She didn’t know which place had good cornmeal porridge, because the only times she’d had it before were when her father made it at home.
***
After a while, Flora stood up, walked to the door, and glanced back at Ilya again.
Ilya was now blow-drying her hair. It was already quite dry.
“I’ll go ask the proprietress which shop has the good stuff. I’ve never had cornmeal porridge outside before, so I definitely need to ask,” Flora said.
“Mhm.” Ilya nodded.
Flora pushed open the door and went out.
The hallway was still very quiet, just the sound of her own footsteps, one after another, on the wooden floor.
As she went downstairs, she was still thinking about Ilya’s words.
‘”I just want to try it.”‘
‘She said it so lightly, so casually.’
‘But Flora felt it meant more than just “wanting to try.”‘
The proprietress was still sitting behind the counter. When she saw Flora come down, she smiled.
“What’s up, young lady?”
Flora walked over quickly and asked, “Excuse me, could you tell me which shop in town has the best cornmeal porridge?”
The proprietress was caught off guard.
“You want cornmeal porridge?”
Flora smiled. “Just want to try it. That’s why I’m asking.”
“Haha.” The proprietress laughed along. “I’ve heard people ask about all kinds of things, but I’ve never had someone come specifically to ask about cornmeal porridge. Pretty unique, little miss. Let me think about it.”
The proprietress hesitated for a moment before saying, “Hmm… it’s hard to give an objective review, but if you ask me which one I think is the best, it’d be the shop to the north.”
“They’ve been open for nineteen years, and their cornmeal porridge left a deep impression on me. Go out the door and head north, turn right at the second intersection, walk a bit further, and you’ll see it on the left side of the road.”
As she spoke, she pointed out a general direction.
“Okay, I understand. Thank you.”
Flora waved at the proprietress and headed back to the room.
When she pushed open the door, Ilya had already finished blow-drying her hair.
It looked mostly dry. She was sitting on the bed, looking out the window.
Hearing the sound, she turned her head.
“Did you find out?”
“Mm. I’ll take you there later.” Flora walked over and sat down beside Ilya.
Ilya nodded.
They were silent for a moment.
Then Flora suddenly asked, “Mother, have you… ever had cornmeal porridge before?”
Ilya answered quickly, “No.”
“Then why do you want to have it?” Flora pressed.
Ilya was silent for a few seconds.
“I heard someone mention it, so I just wanted to try it.”
In the evening, they went to that small shop and ordered two bowls of cornmeal porridge with a few side dishes.
After a short wait, the proprietress came over with two bowls and set them gently in front of them.
The two bowls of porridge steamed with heat.
The porridge was golden yellow, thick, with a thin skin on the surface that glowed with a warm luster under the dim light.
The whole bowl looked glossy and appetizing.
“Enjoy, you two. Feel free to ask for more.”
Flora looked down at the bowl and suddenly remembered that when she was little, her father used to make this often.
On winter mornings, steaming bowls of cornmeal porridge.
She and Eileen each got one, holding them in their hands, sipping in small mouthfuls, blowing on them because they were too hot.
She picked up her spoon, scooped up a mouthful, blew on it, and put it in her mouth.
Warm, soft, and sweet with the unique flavor of corn. The porridge was cooked just right, smooth and thick.
She swallowed, scooped another spoonful, then looked up at Ilya.
Ilya was looking down at the bowl in front of her.
She hadn’t touched her spoon. She was just quietly staring at it.
Flora was taken aback.
“Mother?”
Ilya looked up.
“What’s wrong?”
“Why… aren’t you eating?”
Ilya looked down, picked up her spoon, and took a mouthful.
She chewed.
Even though the porridge itself didn’t need chewing, she still moved her mouth slowly a few times.
Then she swallowed and set down the spoon.
Flora watched her, waiting for her to speak.
Ilya was silent for a few seconds.
Then she spoke, her voice softer than usual, so soft that it was almost impossible to tell what emotion she was feeling.
“…So this is the taste.”
Flora didn’t understand.
“What?”
Ilya didn’t answer.
She scooped another spoonful and slowly put it in her mouth.
This time she chewed very slowly, as if savoring it, or as if remembering something.
Ilya swallowed, then scooped another spoonful.
Then a third.
A fourth.
She ate very slowly, tasting each mouthful, lingering on every bite.
Halfway through, she stopped and looked at the remaining porridge in her bowl.
“What’s wrong?” Flora asked.
Ilya didn’t speak. She just looked at the porridge.
The dim light fell on her face, softening her features. Her eyelashes were lowered, casting a small shadow under her eyes.
After a long while, she finally spoke.
“Nothing.”
Flora watched her, waiting for her to continue, but Ilya didn’t.
She picked up her spoon again and continued eating, occasionally taking some of the side dishes.
The two of them stayed silent, simply eating.
Flora finished her meal and looked up at Ilya.
There was a faint, somber look in her silver eyes.
Soon, Ilya finished eating too.
She said to Flora, “Let’s pay and go.”
“Mm.”
They both stood up and walked to the counter to settle the bill.
When they stepped out of the shop, the night wind hit them, making Flora feel a bit chilly.
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