Cardboard Houses Do Not Tear

85 – Camp 1

Priest Rien recited a prayer to the horse we rode on and then saw us off with a smile.

“I hope to see you later. Priest Rien.”

“Don’t worry, we will definitely meet!”

She answered me kindly and shook her hand.

“So, go carefully, G-House mercenary. And just Mr. Prianian!”

And Miss Priyanian, who heard that, kindly accepted it with a faint smile for some reason.

“I just wish I could see Priest Rien later.”

Then Priest Rien laughed at her words and said.

“Then, shall we shake hands? Mr. Priyanian? For a reunion!”

“Shake hands. It’s good.”

The two held hands, then let go.

“Goodbye. Priest Rien.”

“Goodbye, Mr. Prianian!”

The last time she looked back, her face was still smiling brightly.

***

Perhaps because of the prayers she gave for vitality, the wagon that came out of Miley’s village gradually increased its speed.

How long did he run until the fields spread around him became grasslands and forests?

The sun was starting to set, so I slowed down and looked around.

The densely wooded forest was rocky all around except for the well-paved road.

Due to the nature of the wagons, which cannot even reverse, it was obvious that if you parked incorrectly, you would be in trouble the next day, so you had to pay close attention to the parking space.

I found a suitable place and stopped the carriage. I looked back and said.

“Ms. Priyanian. Sorry, but we have to camp here today.”

“There is no need to be sorry for things like this between us. It’s not like I’ve been camping once or twice.”

After answering that, Miss Priianian slowly got out of the back of the carriage and warmed up.

“Huh.”

When she stretches, the curves of her body are naturally exposed, and she is not wearing her coat for fear of being blown away by the wind.

So just as her shirt was about to lift up, I turned my attention to the horse’s mane.

Yes, not the coveted red hair. Black horsehair

Did you know that the soft fur of black-haired beasts became the raw material for hats in the Joseon Dynasty?

To be precise, only the center core is made of horsehair, and the sides are made of silk.

Anyway, the fact that horsehair is the raw material for gat is a well-documented fact in Heosaengjeon, which tells the negative side of the monopoly market well.

In a way, this can be seen as showing that life is a real battle even for people living in modern society, so this is-

“Mr. G-House.”

From behind, I heard Miss Priyanian’s voice.

I got goosebumps on the nape of my neck, but I turned my head as calmly as possible and spoke out casually.

“Yes?”

“You should pitch a tent.”

Miss Prianian, who was behind me before I knew it, pointed to the materials for the tent that had been laid down on the floor and said.

“Should I play alone? Or should we sleep outside?”

“Ah. Yes. You’re right. I have to pitch a tent. Sure.”

I nodded my head a few times, brushed off my thoughts about Heosaengjeon and horsehair, and prepared to set up the tent.

First, I looked for a dry place with no irregularities on the floor.

No matter where you are, where there is water and stones, something will live.

Shaaak!

“Ugh.”

By putting the stone he lifted back down, he let his friends who moved in enjoy their lives quietly, and went to other places several times.

“Lovely.”

I found a pretty good place.

Pak, pak.

I began to hear the sound of a civilization being built to stay overnight in the woods where birds chirped.

As the old saying goes, when a person goes into a forest, they become a tree, and when people go into a forest, they become a trail.

Thus the frame was built, and Miss Prianian, taking up the tent cloth, went and stood opposite me.

Eyes tell us a lot.

Flutter!

Therefore, naturally, the frame had to be covered with cloth, but the timing wasn’t right.

“Ah.”

The other person’s eyes must have read something different from mine.

“Wasn’t it?”

“…Do it again.”

Because it was sloppily covered, it might be the ceiling of a tent or a blanket kicked by an unemployed person while he was sleeping.

Miss Prianian came to my side, helped me tidy up, and took the cloth back.

Eye met eye to eye, but this time I didn’t make the same mistake again.

“One.”

“Two.”

“Three.”

This time the cloth was laid perfectly.

“Excellent.”

“Good work, Mr. Ghouse.”

There was pure praise in that voice.

But when I looked at those eyes, I felt like I was being bred for something, and I felt like I was losing.

“It’s all thanks to the leader of the prianian squad.”

“Are you still the squad leader?”

“Once a squad leader, always a squad leader.”

After being teased like that, Miss Prianian wielded power again and began to engage in unimaginable violence.

“Then I will give you an order. Meals will be prepared by Mr. G-House.”

“Now is the time to let the past go. Miss Prianian.”

What kind of world is this now? I was about to add that.

Because this is where classes exist.

“Only in this case?”

While Miss Prianian admired my rapid adaptation to the system,

I decided to prepare a meal.

“If there is an order between companions, is it companionship? So, give me the pot over there. I think we can have oatmeal porridge for dinner tonight.”

There is lard and salt, and there is also a nearby stream that you can drink.

Eat and sleep quickly, but nothing has been done. If you pour boiling water over it at the end and drink it, it’s good to wash dishes and replace sungnyung.

But Miss Prianian shook her head.

She seems to want to eat something else.

“Wouldn’t something be better than Porridge?”

“Then what do you like?”

“I looked inside the wagon, and there was some meat. There are also spices.”

“Meat stew?”

Nodding.

I liked it because it was quite honest. Tonight’s dinner is meat soup without rice.

“What would you like to do?”

I implicitly asked her.

“What can I do?”

“Cutting and Trimming Ingredients, or Trimming and Slicing Ingredients.”

“Mr. G-House.”

Then Miss Prianian asked with a grin.

“How about sitting still?”

“I’m going to cook oat porridge, so please wait.”

She willingly volunteered to take care of the material.

It was the fruit of mutual equality.

“You remember what I told you last time?”

“Sure.”

Little.

Oil began to gently coat the bottom of the heated pot.

The meat cut into bite-sized pieces was placed on top of a thin layer of oil dedicated to reducing the worry of washing dishes the next day, and the inside of the pot began to fill with greasy chiik and sound.

The fire at the campsite could not be controlled. I had to use my skills to complete this dish.

Chiik!

I stirred the inside of the pot with a long chopstick made from two twigs.

“Mr. G-House is using a strange method.”

Miss Prianian, who was watching me from the side, evaluated the chopsticks that way.

“Two twigs trimmed and used like that.”

“Everything in the Far East is like this. In some places, the ingredients on the iron plate are stir-fried using two blades.”

“I can’t imagine cooking with a sword. Can you show me later?”

“There’s an old saying that if you do something crazy, you’re a real madman.”

Even while making such remarks to transform a teppanyaki cook into a bizarre sword master, there was no time to rest his chopsticks. I’m going to eat it, but George can’t.

The meat didn’t have to be fully cooked.

Since it has to be thoroughly boiled anyway, after grilling the outside just enough to keep the juices from escaping, I picked up the plate of ingredients next to me.

Everything was placed within reach. The key to Ilmori was to memorize the location of the materials set in advance and to secure the circulation.

So all I had to do was follow the process I had in mind.

After placing the diced meat on one side that had been vacated in advance, the plate was tilted at an angle.

Then the onion slipped into the pot.

From noble mtl dot com

Cheeyiik!!

At the same time as the moisture it contained escaped, it started making a popping sound.

But the sound is like that. If we leave it alone, it will burn black and choke our breath instead of dying.

Chaaak.

As soon as I heard the onion dying, I immediately dropped quartered carrots and potatoes.

Soon, a juicy sound rose from under the dying pot.

“Oh.”

Miss Priyanian, who was sitting right next to her, began to exclaim.

Of course, at this point, the water has to come in here.

That’s why I lifted the ladle and poured the water I kept beside it before pouring it.

I first warned Ms. Prianian, who was sitting next to me and watching the inside of the pot carefully.

“Oil splashes. Please stay away for a bit.”

Those who tried to bake and eat fried dumplings, but tried to moisten them and sprinkled water on an oiled pan without covering it would know that well.

How damn it bounces.

After making sure she kept her distance, she sprayed water.

Chiiik!

While the splashing of oil subsided, I lifted my chopsticks and took a bowl from the side to quickly stir the puree inside.

A puree made by dissolving pre-mashed tomatoes and spice powders in water in advance. Even in that poem, it spread a harmonious and subtle scent all over the place.

I poured it in with water and put the lid on.

***

About an hour passed like that.