Turning Chapter 1158

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After a lengthy period of contemplation over the meal, Yuder eventually retrieved his fork, spearing a morsel. He brought it to his mouth, savoring the slow chew—and, as anticipated, the taste mirrored Shuseiner’s culinary creations from their time in Peleta.

It was incredible, a testament that no one would likely believe this dish was prepared by someone engaging in cooking for the very first time.

“How is it?”

“...It feels profoundly unfair.”

“Hm?”

Kishiar, propping his chin in his hand with an expectant demeanor, blinked in surprise. Yuder let out a sigh, observing the smug expression.

“My palate may not be the most discerning, but I can confidently state that this tastes virtually identical to something Shuseiner would prepare.”

“So... you’re saying it’s delicious?”

Wasn’t that perfectly obvious?

Yuder offered no verbal reply, continuing his methodical chewing. Kishiar, interpreting the silence as confirmation, beamed with evident satisfaction.

They continued their breakfast, seated opposite each other. The confined space led to their knees and legs brushing and entwining beneath the table, yet the shared warmth felt entirely comfortable. Despite their unhurried pace, the meal was consumed swiftly. As Yuder’s gaze fell upon the now-empty plates, Kishiar spoke, a contented smile gracing his features.

“So this is the sensation when someone genuinely appreciates what you’ve created. I believe I comprehend Shuseiner’s feelings now. Perhaps I should cultivate an interest in cooking.”

The man already juggled a life three times more demanding than most. Now, he aspired to learn cooking as well? Regardless of his current elation, Yuder deemed the jest to be carrying things a step too far. He entertained this thought as he began clearing the table.

“So... shall we proceed to visit your grandfather?”

“Indeed. It’s quite close—not a considerable distance at all.”

“Are there any particular preparations we should make?”

“No. We can depart as we are.”

Funeral rituals in Orr exhibited subtle variations dependent on social standing and geographical locale. The affluent or noble class typically conducted ceremonies within a temple, followed by internment in adjacent family mausoleums. However, the majority of commoners opted for cremation. The specific sites for scattering ashes varied by region. Within this central mountainous territory where Yuder resided, it was customary to disperse ashes near either trees or a flowing stream.

Yuder’s grandfather had adhered to this very tradition. Following his cremation, his ashes were entrusted to the water near his favored spot by their home. Yuder recounted these details with casual ease as they proceeded on foot, unburdened by hesitation.

“He personally selected the location before his passing. It’s a place seldom frequented by others, yet the natural beauty is exceptional.”

The destination soon materialized into view. It was merely a ten-minute stroll from the residence—a truly proximate locale.

A gently inclined riverside, originating from the secluded valley. Its breadth and depth were substantial, evoking the image of a miniature river. This was the very place where his grandfather’s ashes had been scattered.

Yuder silently contemplated the site, which he hadn’t visited in a significant period, before advancing closer. From the swift current flowing beneath his feet emanated a pristine and bracing aura.

Although his grandfather had personally chosen this spot, he had explicitly requested that no memorial markers be erected. To any uninformed observer, it presented as nothing more than an ordinary stream.

“This is the location.”

Positioned beside Yuder, Kishiar murmured softly.

“The sunlight graces this spot generously. And as you mentioned, the vista is quite stunning. It appears it would have been an ideal place for swimming during the summer months.”

“Yes. Precisely as you remarked... I frequented this spot nearly every summer.”

Indeed, it wasn't exclusively during the summer—this location served as Yuder’s cherished haven for play and tranquility across all seasons.

“This particular rock offers a perfect perch.”

“Ah, you are correct. It even provides a comfortable lumbar support.”

Yuder’s lips curved upwards in response to the lighthearted remark. It felt remarkably peculiar to be sharing this locale, a place known intimately only to him since his grandfather’s demise, with another individual.

Could this be how Kishiar felt when he guided me through Peleta?

Seated shoulder-to-shoulder with Kishiar, Yuder’s gaze became absorbed by the ceaseless flow of the water. He had visited this place on several occasions subsequent to his grandfather’s death, yet never had he experienced the serene warmth that now enveloped his entire being.

As if to internalize this profound warmth, Yuder drew a deep breath and articulated his thoughts.

“In truth... I had a dream concerning my grandfather earlier.”

“What sort of dream was it?”

“One set just before he departed this world... the day he imparted his final words to me.”

The word ‘farewell’ possessed an inherent tendency to cast a considerable shadow over the mood. Yuder, desiring to convey that the dream was not steeped in somberness, proceeded to elaborate on its details with fidelity to his recollection, before lowering his gaze.

“I wasn’t overcome with sadness or anything of that nature... yet it left a curious impression. Even during my prior existence, I never once dreamt of him after leaving home, and yet now, simply by being here, it all resurfaced with vivid intensity.”

“...That is quite plausible.”

Following these words, Kishiar gently laid his hand atop Yuder’s, which rested upon the rock. The warmth, penetrating the single layer of glove, gradually permeated his body.

“Listening to your account, it is unequivocally evident how deeply he cherished and safeguarded his grandson. He sounds like a truly remarkable individual—so thoroughly prepared, and brimming with affection.”

“Indeed. He even fashioned several chairs in various sizes specifically for me as I matured. I believe I owe my ability to live independently without significant hardship entirely to him.”

“Chairs?”

“Yes. The ones we use currently are designed for adults. However, smaller versions are stored away. I used those when I was younger, though I’ve naturally outgrown them now…”

“That’s remarkable. There’s much I could learn from his approach.”

A subtle smile touched Yuder’s lips.

“As a child, I couldn’t comprehend why he continuously crafted chairs in different sizes. Yet, as I grew, its profound usefulness became apparent.”

“Furniture tailored precisely to one’s form is undeniably superior.”

“Precisely.”

Chairs were commonplace furniture items. Nonetheless, few households dedicated the resources to construct separate chairs exclusively for children. Most commoner families lacked the financial means and the time. Consequently, numerous children grew up dining at adult tables, precariously balanced on chairs far too tall. Chairs with adjustable heights, accommodating a child's growth, were typically a luxury afforded only to the nobility. However, thanks to his grandfather’s adept woodworking skills, Yuder always possessed chairs that offered a perfect fit. Even after his grandfather’s passing, a sufficient number of pre-made chairs remained, allowing him to seamlessly transition between them.

At the time, the sheer magnitude of this kindness eluded me.

His grandfather had also made a point of replacing his clothes and footwear regularly as he grew. Reflecting on it now, such attentiveness was truly exceptional. Following his grandfather’s death, Yuder had adapted to purchasing overly large adult garments and wearing them loosely, simply to circumvent the inconvenience of acquiring properly fitting attire.

Looking back… he was, in fact, an exceptionally meticulous individual, even concerning the most trivial matters.

“It’s said he engaged in various occupations during his youthful travels. Perhaps that’s why he possessed certain qualities distinct from others. He was also educated, enabling him to handle numerous writing tasks for the village. He maintained meticulously detailed ledgers as well… On one occasion, I inadvertently spilled water on one and…”

As Yuder continued to recount his memories, an increasing number of recollections concerning his grandfather emerged, extending the narrative. Feeling a twinge of self-consciousness for his prolonged discourse, Yuder’s words faltered. However, the man beside him, who had listened silently throughout, offered a gentle smile and provided encouragement.

“You visited him. It is only fitting that you speak of him. I would be delighted if you would share more—whatever comes to your mind.”

“You are not finding this tedious?”

“Not in the slightest.”

Kishiar tilted his head, bringing it to rest against Yuder’s temple.

“I have always yearned to understand more about you. There is no conceivable way I would find this dull. Even the most insignificant detail—I wish to hear all of it.”

His voice resonated with genuine warmth and a profound sense of longing.

Yuder gently leaned his head against Kishiar’s, releasing a slow, deep exhale.

“My grandfather frequently spoke of the time following his demise. He described death as a natural occurrence and expressed his desire for me to refrain from succumbing to sorrow upon his passing. He assured me not to worry, stating that even if he embarked on a long journey, his thoughts would perpetually remain with me. He repeated this so often that when he actually departed, not a single tear escaped my eyes.”

It was peculiar. He had not cried at all. Even when he performed the cremation of his grandfather and scattered the ashes with the assistance of the villagers his grandfather had known well—some of whom might have also received those very words—he remained tearless. Even upon returning to the home where the old man had recently lain, he still did not weep. He simply resumed his daily routines, precisely as his grandfather had desired.

At times, he visited this very stream. He continued the tasks his grandfather had undertaken. He carried on living—quietly, peacefully. As though he had been solitary from the very inception of his existence.