Thanks for the Invitation, I'm on Terra, and I'm a Parasite

"Who are you? What are you here for?"

Without hesitating for long, Irene's professionalism as an Inquisitor allowed her to regain her usual bearing.

"Sorry to disturb you. If possible, may I ask whether you two have any spare rations? I was hoping to exchange these two Fowlbeasts I just caught for them—"

"Fowlbeasts... Citizen, Inquisitors do not accept bribes or—"

"Irene, give her some of our dry rations."

"Teacher?!"

Irene looked at her teacher in surprise.

Yet Dario calmly handed the other party something resembling compressed biscuits from beside him.

"We owe you a favor. I hope you won't find it too little."

"How could I? Mr. Inquisitor, it was merely a small effort."

"Rather, I should be thanking you now."

The nun smiled, accepted the dry rations, then set down the two Fowlbeasts and left directly.

..

"Teacher... do you know her?"

After a long while, Irene asked in confusion.

"She saved me once. I owe her a favor."

"Then, the Fowlbeasts she left behind..."

"Inquisitors do not accept bribes. You should know how to deal with them."

After leaving those words behind, Dario returned to reading the scriptures.

"Oh, oh!"

Irene nodded, then grabbed the two Fowlbeasts on the table...

"Huh?"

"What is it?"

"These two Fowlbeasts don't have any bones?"

Dario froze for a moment, then looked at the two Fowlbeast carcasses. There was only a single opening on each of them, yet every bone in their bodies had been precisely removed...

"Fowlbeasts... It seems her attitude is exceptionally firm."

"Attitude? What do you mean, Teacher?"

Irene was confused.

"No, it's nothing..."

"Nothing..."

..

"First of all, someone who has been hungry and malnourished for a long time cannot handle stimulating food."

"Whether roasted or stewed, meat isn't something easily absorbed."

"The right approach should be mild porridge... Fortunately, the Inquisitors' compressed rations seem to be made entirely of grains."

"And then—"

Zuo Jian glanced at the completely stripped Fowlbeast skeleton in his hand.

"Anita seems to have a particular fondness for bone broth. I hope the Inquisitors won't mind that the bones were removed from those two Fowlbeasts."

Come to think of it... I'm starting to look more and more like some old guy raising a child all by himself.

On-Shelf Thoughts

Wait, wait, wait. I know what everyone wants to see right now is a flowing update of tens of thousands of words in one go, not this long-winded and mostly meaningless on-shelf note.

Stop cursing, stop cursing. I don't want to either, okay???

But since it's going on the shelves, I should write something, like a summary of everything so far.

Overall, at this point, my own feeling about what I've written so far is—nine, even ten out of ten satisfied!

As for the protagonist alone, those familiar with me should know that every protagonist I write more or less has some kind of mental issue.

From the earliest withdrawn, silent types to those filled with world-weary thoughts, complete lunatics who only care about their own amusement from head to toe.

Without a doubt, every one of them was extremely off-putting to readers. I understand that, so although Zuo Jian in this book also has quite serious personal issues, the path he chose is much more normal than those previous ones.

With a traveling companion like Laurentina, I think I'll be able to write more content that I find interesting!

Zuo Jian is like a passenger, stepping aboard all kinds of trains across Terra. Along the way, he will continue meeting many interesting, or rather, memorable companions.

Perhaps sometimes, a train will stop once it reaches its destination, but he will continue on his journey.

Then the train where he briefly stopped will catch up with him again. Heh.

By the way, Doctor is my favorite character—

(As for updates, I'm writing, I'm writing! College students during finals aren't free at all, aaah!)

What I Believe Is Right

Under the night sky, within one of the ramshackle little houses found everywhere in Saltwind City, a small bonfire had been lit.

The firelight leaped and danced from the firewood, filling the cramped room with gentle light and warmth.

An iron pot that had been found somewhere was set upon a crude stand built from wood. Grains and shredded bits of meat were combining within it into a simple, thick substance resembling porridge.

Yet despite that, this pot of food without even a hint of seasoning, prepared in a way no different from something made by primitive people in the eyes of modern folk, held the gaze of the girl before it completely captive.

Anita knew Painter was amazing, but she had not expected Painter's friend to be even more amazing.

She could leap across rooftops that would take the combined height of several Anitas to reach, and after disappearing for a while, she could return with a bag full of strange things!

She did not know what was inside the bag. She only knew that the grain-like things inside seemed edible, but she had never seen food like that before.

In her memories, everything she could swallow had always carried a strange, somewhat nauseating sourness, or had been fish with a briny stench like sea salt.

"Painter... can I really eat this...?"

Anita stared blankly at the bowl in her hands, even suspecting for a moment that she was dreaming.

Once she woke up, Painter from outside, Painter's amazing friend, and the steaming bowl in her hands would all vanish in an instant.

"Of course you can. This whole pot was made for you—mm."

Laurentina had just been about to say something more when a wooden spoon was stuffed into her mouth the next moment.

"Mmph, mmph."

"And you. It's about time you fed some nutrients to that single-track little brain of yours."

Sitting by the bonfire, Zuo Jian scooped out a bowl of porridge and handed it to Laurentina as well.

"Mmph, mmph—"

"Swallow your food before talking."

Though she wanted to say more, with Anita still here, Laurentina could only swallow the food in her mouth, take the bowl Zuo Jian handed her, and give him a resentful little look.

It's fine, Laurentina. A shark can wait ten years for revenge!

"What is it? Don't want to eat?"

Yet Zuo Jian seemed to pretend he had not seen Laurentina's little look at all as he turned to ask Anita, who had yet to take a bite.

"I'll eat it now... Thank you... thank you..."

The girl hurriedly raised the bowl, scooped up a large spoonful, and brought it to her mouth.

However, when her soft, fragile lips touched the steaming porridge, the scalding sensation made her loosen her grip instinctively.

"It's hot!"

For an instant, time seemed to freeze.

Anita stared blankly at the bowl she had accidentally flung into the air, at the clean, steaming food that had already spilled halfway out of it and hung suspended in midair.

And directly below where it was about to spill was Painter's friend, who was even looking at her with concern right now.

I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I didn't mean to... I'm sorry...

Anita shut her eyes tremblingly. She did not even dare imagine what would happen next.

"Huh?"

Unexpectedly, the sound of the bowl smashing onto the floor never came. Instead, a familiar, gentle sensation touched her head.

Anita opened her eyes nervously and saw that the other person still wore that gentle smile, like a spring breeze. She had never seen a spring breeze, but she had seen several pictures depicting spring.

They were gentle scenes, the mere sight of which made people feel inexplicably at ease.

She felt that spring ought to be like this.

"Don't drink so much at once. It'll hurt your stomach, and it's very hot."

Zuo Jian held the bowl Anita had dropped in one hand while stroking her head with the other.

"Oh... okay..."

She blankly accepted the bowl he handed back to her, then watched as he asked, as though inspecting her.

"What about your lips and tongue? Did you burn them?"

"No... no..."

For some reason, his concerned appearance slowly overlapped with a vague figure from somewhere in her memories, even their voices gradually aligning.

"Are you really all right, little Anita? There are tears at the corners of your eyes."

He raised a hand and gently wiped away the tears from the girl's eyes.

"...Mom?"

Without any reason, as if it were a memory belonging to her body itself, she spoke two familiar yet unfamiliar syllables.

But the next moment, she hurriedly shook her head and apologized.

"S-sorry, Painter's friend. I-I accidentally knocked over the bowl just now..."

"Is that so? It does seem really hot."

Zuo Jian did not pay attention to the title she had unconsciously called him. Bringing it up would probably only stir up memories that were not good for her.

He simply took Anita's bowl and felt its temperature...

...It was not a temperature that could cause injury or pain... No, it was merely a temperature his current body could ignore, but for the girl before him, it was an entirely different matter.

He had been careless.

"It's all right, little Anita. It won't be hot now."

As he spoke, he slowly blew cool air from his mouth, watching the steam gradually disperse before extending the spoon toward her.

"Come on, open up."

"Ah—"

"Mmm..."

A gentle flavor and warmth spread through her mouth, and her tear ducts lost control once again. This time, no matter how Anita tried to stop them, she could not halt the tears flowing from the corners of her eyes.

"Hey, what's wrong? Does it taste that bad?"