A Tale of One Deviant (Book One)

Chapter 67: Fae Are Family

Sometime during the night, as the dinner party went on, I decided to stop using up my mana so I would have anything in case an emergency happened.

As we all know, emergencies always happen with me.

A lot of them were surprised when all of a sudden I shined golden, and then the wonderful lady was gone. In her place was a tiny girl, one who could barely see over the table. Noticing this, Kitri decided to take me into his lap, but the girl next to him decided to take the cute girl and do the same.

A war of glares and daggers went between their eyes, until I asked, "Is it that important?"

"Very," Kitri narrowed his eyes at the sister and she gulped, then gave up.

Don't tell me he's yandere. I don't think I could stand that.

He was positively beaming when I landed in his lap, wings instantly around my waist. Thinking it was a faux pas, I decided to not pull my plate towards me to finish my meal and just sat there.

Staring at it.

It'd tasted so wonderful before.

I remember how slick that syrup was down my throat.

And my first time since coming to this world, I dared to try the meat. That was a feeling I'd never forget.

Really badly, I wanted to save it for later. My commoner instincts, no, my hunter-gatherer instincts from when I was Kaya kicked in. I needed to save this for later or I wouldn't have food. "Mother" would probably keep a constant watch on the fridge if I wanted to sneak down and raid it.

Wrong life! Never mind!

So, forlornly, I stared at it rom the corner of my eye.

"Do you still want it?"

"The best food I've ever had."

"Your mother's cooking wasn't enough?"

"She's a noble, cooks make the food."

"No, not at all," I shook my head. "Since she came from a humble life, she decided to try her hand at cooking for three months. When I woke up from my coma and she decided to make it again, to warm up her poor daughter's heart, I had to honestly tell her what I thought. As far as she knows, I don't know she practices and blows up the kitchen sometimes."

I told this story with a bit of trauma leaking on my face. Those days were good, but until both Thérèse and Mother gave up cooking I had a constant fear of coming to the table.

"I should've known better," the girl who asked shook her head as if apologizing.

"No, people always assume Mother's perfect. However, just because I was baby when I experienced it does not mean my memories are in any way hazy."

No lie.

That topic was dropped.

"So Firea," the oldest one, one of the farthest across the table from me, spoke up. I learned sometime ago that she was called Tuila. "What're your plans for the next few years? You've already got the basic educations of any human child, and much more in fact. How will you spend your livelihood?"

I didn't even have to think before answering that, I'd pondered this so many times. The words flowed smoothly from my tongue as my head was tilted to the side, oddly thoughtful. Kitri's wings looked like they were undulating in color-or was it in pattern?-but I didn't pay them much regard as I fingered the ends of my dress.