Chapter 27: A Day of Preparations and Insect Encounters

Anyway, from that day on, I decided to take on the task of monster hunting alone for a while, at least until Siyeon said, “I can do it!” It didn’t matter if it took weeks or months.

The bear plushie, which I used to toss around carelessly in my room, would always stay nearby until that day came.

Just in case a monster appeared when I was out, I had to be ready to act immediately.

After all, it was partly my fault for hanging the bear in the bathroom in the first place.

Sunday, a day when I could sort out my troubled thoughts, passed by in an oddly muted, monochrome way.

Then came Monday, the dawn of the field trip day. As the alarm rang from my smartphone, I swiftly turned it off within two seconds.

“Haah.”

I let out a short but drawn-out yawn, then got up.

Under the kitchen sink, there was a frying pan that hadn’t been used in ages and had dried out.

“Sun.”

Cooking with this body wasn’t easy, so I chanted the transformation spell and, with renewed strength, grabbed the frying pan.

There weren’t any rules saying I could only transform when a monster appeared, and since I was at home with no fear of anyone seeing me, it was fine.

Like the frying pan, a plastic cutting board, also dried out, was set on the sink. I hovered slightly as I opened a can of ham and placed it on the board.

With a sharp kitchen knife, I neatly sliced it in one direction, laid the pieces flat, and sliced them again in another direction, cutting the ham into small cubes.

I tossed the cubes into the frying pan. As the stove’s vent hood roared to life, the sizzling sound of the ham started to fill the kitchen as it fried, releasing its oil.

I quickly cracked an egg into the pan and scrambled it, stirring it with a spatula.

It was important not to microwave the instant rice; the added moisture would ruin the fried rice, making it more like porridge.

After tearing open the rice package, I added the cooked eggs and ham pieces and stirred them together.

As I broke up the clumps of rice with the spatula, I opened a packet of seasoning flakes and sprinkled them over the mixture.

‘Fried rice is done…’

Carefully, I packed the lovingly made fried rice into a compartment of each bento box, pressing it down into one section. The bento had two other compartments for side dishes. From the fridge, I took out some quail egg soy-braised dish and ladled about seven or eight eggs into one section.

The last section was for octopus-shaped sausages.

While cutting slits into the sausages so they would splay open when fried, a thought crossed my mind.

‘Why can’t we just eat them normally…’

It was a bit of resentment toward parents who only put in this much effort for field trip days.

“They never do this on regular days. So ridiculous, really.”

I muttered bitterly to myself as I moved the prepared sausages from the cutting board.

The frying pan, still warm from cooking the fried rice, sizzled pleasantly as the sausages began to cook.

Since eating them plain might be too dull, I reduced the heat once they were almost done and added a touch of syrup, glazing them as I stirred with the spatula.

As I watched the sausages open into perfect little legs, just like in the videos I’d watched all weekend, I placed them into the side compartments of the bento boxes, splitting them evenly.

Lastly, cherry tomatoes and Shine Muscat grapes.

After gently rinsing them under running water, I removed the stems from the cherry tomatoes. I plucked the Shine Muscat grapes one by one from their stems and placed them neatly into an empty container.

The fruit compartment was placed at the bottom, the side dish compartment in the middle, and the fried rice compartment at the top. After securely closing the lid and fastening it, I carefully packed everything into a corner of their bags.

In addition to that, I prepared a trash bag for any waste, some band-aids as part of a first aid kit, tissues and wet wipes in case something spills, and even a mat to sit on and relax safely from bugs.

“Alright, all set!”

Compared to preparing for a kids’ picnic, it felt like I had over-prepared. Satisfied with the preparations, I glanced at the clock, realizing that 30 minutes had already passed.

“Is it that late already?”

“Deactivate.”

Floating slightly above the ground, I softly landed and deactivated my transformation.

As I felt the abundant energy drain away, I headed to the bed where Siyeon was sleeping. I grabbed her by the shoulder, shaking her blanket-wrapped body as I spoke in a motherly tone.

“Siyeon, it’s time to wake up.”

“Mmm…”

“Picnic time, remember? Time to get up.”

Listening to the pitiful moans of drowsiness, which made even the one waking her up feel worse, I slipped my fingers into the blanket. This was my last resort for times when waking her seemed impossible—tickling.

“Ahaha! Stop it!”

As our frail bodies made contact, the ticklish reaction kicked in, and Siyeon couldn’t hold back her laughter.

It was the kind of move that guaranteed she’d wake up. I poked her sides gently with my fingers.

“Not getting up yet? Still not getting up?”

“I’m awake! Stop it…”

Under the relentless attack of my fingers, Siyeon finally got up, rubbing her eyes.

We both sat down at the low table for breakfast.

Today’s breakfast was a few leftover pieces of sweet and sour pork from yesterday, a bit of fried rice from what I packed into the lunch box, and some jjajang (black bean sauce).

The combination of leftover noodles that had absorbed too much sauce in the fridge and the fresh warmth of the fried rice made for a surprisingly decent meal.

It would have been perfect if we had some pickled radish.

“Here’s your water and lunchbox, tissues and wet wipes are in front of you, if you get hurt the first aid kit is here, and the trash bag is here.”

“Okay, okay.”

“Don’t get hurt, alright?”

The conversation was entirely one-sided, not at all what you’d expect from kids of the same age. Siyeon and I were in different classes, so once school activities began, I wouldn’t be able to look after her, which made me worry even more.

Not that there’s really anything to worry about when it comes to a kids’ picnic… but I just worry endlessly.

It’s like watching a video of someone setting up dominoes while there’s a cat wandering around the room—there’s this constant sense of foreboding, like anything could happen at any moment.

“Alright, everyone! Follow your teacher!”

Each teacher stood at the front of their respective classes, leading the students out.

Lining up in a group, I feel like a baby duck following its mother. Or maybe it resembles more of a marching scene.

Luckily, I won’t have to go through that in this lifetime.

Since we have to act in groups, we probably won’t have time to meet during the field trip. “Free time” is only granted to the older kids.

Giving that to first graders, who are already hard enough to control, would cause chaos if anything happened.

Field trip, picnic… whatever the case, the activities we can do with first graders are pretty limited.

“Now, that insect floating on the pond over there is called a water strider.”

“Where?!”

“There it is! Over there!”

We hadn’t gone far, just to a park a bit away from the school. The kids crowded around, watching common insects as we wandered. That’s all there was to it.

It was just turning into summer, and the park was full of insects I didn’t know the names of.

Every time those black bits flew near my face, I swatted the air to chase them away.

Why did it have to be a day full of bugs?

After we were done with insect-watching, it was time for lunch in the shade.

“Okay, everyone spread out the mats you brought and join them together!”

“Yeeesss!!”

Following the teacher’s instructions, the kids spread out their mats, creating a large safe zone in the middle of the grass. With the mats stacked like this, at least we didn’t have to worry about getting bitten by ticks.

“I brought rice balls with tofu skin—!”

“Let’s trade for kimbap!”

“No way!”

Ignoring the kids squabbling over what they’d brought, I opened my own lunchbox.

The top tier was packed with fried rice I had made in the morning.

Mixed with the cold soy-sauce-marinated quail eggs from the fridge, the yolks combined nicely with the fried rice.

Sometimes, making my own meals like this isn’t so bad.

After finishing off some cherry tomatoes and shine muscats for dessert, I pulled out a water bottle from my bag.

I twisted open the cap of the untouched bottle. Hearing that satisfying crack as I opened it, I took a big gulp, washing down whatever food was left in my mouth.

“Ahh…”

With a content sigh signaling the end of my meal, I cleaned up my empty lunchbox.

The next part of our schedule was to either lie down or sit on the mats and draw one of the insects that had left an impression on us, on a piece of paper the teacher handed out.

While doing that, I started hearing a buzzing sound, like a drone. It was an irregular sound that had been going on for a while now, so I focused on it and turned my gaze toward a nearby tree.

It was too big to be a hornet.

“Whoa, I’m done for.”

Awestruck by its enormous size, I quietly got up and stepped off the mat to take cover. As I moved away from the mat, the teacher, noticing my behavior, came over and asked:

“Marie? What’s wrong?”

“There’s a wasp over there, shouldn’t we avoid it?”
“A wasp? Where…?”

As I pointed to the enormous hornet big enough to see its compound eyes, the teacher’s expression instantly hardened. Immediately after, she crouched down and began urgently calling to the students.
“Kids! Hey, kids?! There’s a wasp, so slowly stand up and come this way!”

Once the students somehow evacuated, the now empty picnic mat became a landing spot for the giant hornet, which began crawling around as if searching for a good spot to settle down.

Our teacher and classmates had already retreated a fair distance away. As we dumbly stared at the vacant mat from afar, another teacher slowly approached our teacher and asked,
“Ms. Seol-Ah, is something wrong?”

It was Mr. Seon-Wook, the teacher from the neighboring class. Tilting his head in curiosity, he approached our teacher, who responded in a low, troubled voice.
“Oh, a wasp appeared at our spot….”
“A wasp? Just one? No problem, leave it to me!”
“Uh, you really shouldn’t get too close….”

Ignoring the advice, Mr. Seon-Wook strode confidently toward our mat.

Yes, it’s a wasp, but one in a whole different league than usual?
What else could it be but the legendary hornet boss?

That day, I learned that people can run that fast. The fear stemming from that overwhelming size? Definitely not limited by age.

When we were asked to write about a memorable insect from our field trip, I was mesmerized and ended up drawing the face of the hornet boss.
“A masterpiece, truly a masterpiece.”