Lessons, Laughter, and a Looming Confrontation

“Come, children, follow me and write ‘Fu’.”

On a wide patch of bare ground, an elder, who appeared to be over eighty years old, was diligently teaching children how to write. Gripping a trimmed branch, he painstakingly scrawled the character ‘Fu’ into the sand, his strokes somewhat wobbly. The children beside him clumsily imitated his movements, using their fingers to etch even more awkward versions of the character into the dirt.

A full month had passed since South Creek’s arrival in this world. In that time, she had finally grown accustomed to life here, slowly but surely integrating herself into its rhythm.

While South Creek maintained a keen interest in this world, both familiar and strange, some parts of it were, to put it mildly, unexciting.

The current situation served as a prime example.

Frankly, South Creek couldn’t fathom the necessity of learning such rudimentary characters. The spoken language of this world was far less complex than the one she had once used. Simply by drawing upon her memories, South Creek had swiftly mastered its intricacies.

Furthermore, whenever Elise had free time, she would teach South Creek how to read and write, even introducing her to basic composition. For all these reasons, South Creek found the elder’s lessons more tedious than kindergarten, a place that at least offered a variety of games.

Despite her internal complaints, South Creek dutifully joined the others, mimicking the elder’s strokes in the sand. After all, Elise had explicitly asked her to pay attention during lessons, leaving South Creek no choice but to feign attentiveness.

“Wow! South Creek, your characters are so straight! Mine always come out wobbly, no matter what I do. Teach me your secret!”

Fanny, who was squatting beside South Creek, exclaimed with envy as she gazed at South Creek’s neat, upright characters.

“Hmm, it’s not that hard. You see, just like this.”

Clearly, a certain little one’s willingness to attend these lessons wasn’t solely due to Elise’s instructions.

“Ahem, ahem. Children, don’t huddle together like that. Be careful.”

The elder, Mr. Lister, who was seated on a stool teaching the children to write, was a rather respected figure in the village. It was said that in his youth, he had served as a civil official in a large city’s government and thus possessed a certain level of education. However, judging by his own slightly wobbly handwriting, it seemed little of that remained.

Even in his old age, Mr. Lister retained a fervent passion. Unwilling to simply recline in a rocking chair and enjoy his twilight years, he resolutely chose to teach the younger generation of the village. As he often said, this not only brought new purpose to his later years but also ensured these children would not suffer the hardships of illiteracy in the future.

Evidently, Mr. Lister’s intentions were noble. Although many parents in the village were reluctant to see their children abandon their duties of tending to livestock, after Mr. Lister’s persistent persuasion, a considerable number of children still gathered here in the evenings to learn reading and writing from the old gentleman.

Elise, too, held the old gentleman in great esteem. Whenever he came to the church to pray, Elise would always make extra time to check on his health. Fortunately, even at over eighty years old, Mr. Lister remained remarkably healthy.

Now, on another ordinary evening, after a full four hours of teaching, the old gentleman finally concluded his lesson. As he set down his teaching stick—a branch—the children were at last liberated from their drowsy study session. They quickly formed groups, chatting and laughing as they made their way home, eagerly anticipating their evening meal.

South Creek followed suit. She brushed the sand from her bottom, stifled a small yawn, and prepared to head back to the church.

“South Creek, can I come to your place for dinner tonight, please?”

Fanny, who had been daydreaming on the ground, immediately chased after South Creek as soon as she saw her leaving. She clung to South Creek’s arm, pleading softly.

“Again? The last time you came to our house for dinner, Aunt Meg gave you a good scolding. I really don’t want to see you running to me the next day, bruised and swollen, crying your heart out.”

“Well, uh… it’s mainly because your sister is such an amazing cook! I’ve never tasted such delicious Rowling flower soup, and that roasted bread… it’s simply—”

“Stop, stop, Fanny. Sister Elise isn’t a chef.”

“Oh, but I’m serious…”

The two girls frolicked along the country path, weaving through a narrow lane, only to encounter an unexpected figure at its exit.

“You two, stop right there.”

It was a boy, a full head taller than both of them, with short brown hair, clearly several years their senior. He stood at the lane’s exit, his face etched with impatience, seemingly having waited there for quite some time.

“It’s you again.”

Fanny’s expression instantly soured. Almost simultaneously, South Creek’s own face darkened, making it clear this was not the first time such an incident had occurred.

“Those words should be coming from me. I already warned you last time.”

The boy’s expression was equally displeased. He bit his lower lip, as if trying to suppress something.

“Just do as I say. Don’t force my hand, or I’ll—”

“You’ll what? Get angry? Jack, what’s gotten into you this time?”

Retorting mercilessly, Fanny completely ignored the boy, whose expression grew even uglier. She grabbed South Creek’s hand and turned to leave.

“Come on, let’s go. Don’t mind this lunatic; he’s probably got another screw loose.”

“You!”

Seeing the two girls about to leave, the boy named Jack immediately rushed forward, intending to physically block their path. To his surprise, however, before he could even react, South Creek and Fanny took off running.

South Creek, of course, recognized this tall, imposing brat. He was the only son of the Beard family, the wealthiest in the village. Relying on his family’s influence, he usually swaggered around the village with an arrogant demeanor. Some time ago, for reasons unknown, this fellow had taken to bothering South Creek.

South Creek distinctly recalled that just two days prior, this arrogant hooligan had cornered them both right here, theatrically threatening her. He had demanded she tell Sister Elise to stop using her miraculous magic to save people, or else face the consequences.

But South Creek wasn’t one to be intimidated. Who did this brat think he was, daring to threaten her? If not for the fact that he was a full head taller than her, South Creek would have taught him a lesson he wouldn’t soon forget.

As for why they ran, it was simply because the narrow, slippery path wasn’t conducive to a confrontation.

[What’s gotten into this guy today? Why is he actually chasing us?]

The increasingly close footsteps caused both girls’ hearts to sink. Clearly, their pursuer had no intention of letting them off easily today.