One Silver Coin For a Pound of Demon

Chapter 20

Draft
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So it goes like this, Lemuel gives you a shopping list, you bring back the ingredients, and he cooks it.

Vegetables, meats, the ingredients that you've bought countless times are turned into magic in Lemuel's hands. If it wasn't you that had bought them and watched how they were turned into food, you wouldn't be able to imagine such a complete makeover. You're amazed and Lemuel shakes his head at your fuss, he says, "It's more amazing than making everything just one flavor, right?"

He says you're throwing money away and you answer that you've never waste food, you eat everything to the last bite- it's Lemuel instead, you see him picking the ginger off of his plate. "That's the seasoning!" He says ironically, "Would you eat lavender?" When he got a positive answer, Lemuel became speechless.

Things like ginger, lavender, and fennel weren't ingredients and shouldn't be eaten, so it's no wonder they taste weird.

Lemuel seemed to have found a new hobby, he's passionate about making all kinds of food beyond what's required for a full meal. He makes you buy lots and lots of sugar, icing, syrup, lots and lots of butter, cream, cheese, and makes pastries out of them that started out grotesque and then began looking as good as those in the store. It might even taste better, after all, he used plenty of ingredients.

There are times when you stand in front of the icing aisle and feel needle-like pangs of guilt. There are people in war, many are hungry, and you're buying so much candy. It makes you feel like you're committing a crime. This isn't right, indulging in the lust of the tongue is also a sin, have you gone too far in the sin of gluttony?

You're not buying these for yourself, you're completing Lemuel's purchase order, and he, like the frightened people on the battlefield, needs a lot of sugar and can eat a lot of sugar. You use this to convince yourself to put those beautiful ingredients inside the shopping basket, and when the cashier says that you're finally enjoying life, the guilt lingers on your way back, like you've just heard a harsh accusation.

You'll finish the meal that Lemuel cooked, and you tell yourself that it's to avoid waste, it's a sin to splurge. But you don't touch Lemuel's desserts, not at all, and after a few times, he began not making your share. You watch Lemuel eat those fragrant pastries and were somewhat relieved, as if it once again proved that your decisions weren't wrong. 

The weather is getting warmer day by day, and the temperature in the kitchen is higher than the outside. In there, Lemuel gradually changed out of his sweater, taking off his shirt, and cooking while wearing only an undershirt. The vest isn't too small, but it looks a little tight on him. His chest muscles fills the upper part of the undershirt and the strap is stuck in the trapezius muscle, it instead looks more like a bold symbol, making the texture of his upper arm more obvious. You ask him if he wants to buy bigger clothes, and he shakes his head in confusion.

When the fire is too high or the action of flipping the iron pan is too frequent, Lemuel will sweat, not the kind of sweat droplets that slides down the skin, but fine sweat that evenly covers the skin. His exposed skin looks like windowpanes fogging in winter, covered with a layer of moisture. It isn't cold, but hot. For some reason, you find it offensive staring at his sweaty skin, it seems too... private. You take away your eyes and look down, trying to place your gaze on the wrapping of clothing. 

The top half of the undershirt is stretched wide, but the waist part seems just right. Beyond the chest, the waistline is constricted. Most of the blame is on the contrast of the upper part. Lemuel's waist is surprisingly slender, and you almost feel like you can hold it with a hand. Between the dark undershirt and light-colored jeans, the piece of wheat-colored skin seemed particularly eye-catching. Lemuel's pants were low-waisted, he had to find a place to put his tail.