"By some of the Celts' more superstitious beliefs, you could say that House-elves' magic infused food with natural energy, making it taste better and stay fresher," Tierra concluded.
"Is that so?" Professor Frolov scooped up another spoonful of fried rice and ate it heartily, as though hoping to ease the exhaustion of his long journey through delicious food.
As Professor Frolov savored the meal, the dishes Tierra and the others had ordered were gradually brought out by the House-elves—
Tierra's squid fried rice and creamy shellfish soup, Mitchell Megan's seafood pasta and vegetable salad, and Jeffrey Rogge's fried fish cakes and buttered seafood fried rice.
"Professor? Professor?" Mitchell Megan's voice rang beside Professor Frolov's ear, abruptly pulling him from his warm, beautiful memories back into reality—
In reality, Professor Frolov was still sitting inside the cold, gloomy fishing boat, leaning against a somewhat damp bunk.
"Mm, sorry, Mitchell. I... I was just thinking about something," Professor Frolov said.
"It's time to eat, Professor," Mitchell Megan said gently. Then she slipped her arm through Professor Frolov's and made as if to help him up from the cold, damp bed.
"Did I... did I fall asleep again just now?" Professor Frolov asked hesitantly as he rose.
"You seemed to have dozed off for a while," Mitchell Megan replied. "About ten minutes. Mr. Jeffrey Rogge has already gone to the dining room."
"Th-thank you for the trouble." With Mitchell Megan's support, Professor Frolov stood up and then walked stiffly out of the cabin with a limp—
When Professor Frolov was young, he had accidentally fallen during a geological survey in the Strait of Denmark and shattered his knee. It left him with a lingering injury; whenever it rained, snowed, or a cold front came through, his leg would ache and become difficult to