Ten months had passed since I arrived in Aethorador, and I had learned quite a bit about Lysander. He was 29 years old, six years older than me. When I shared my age, he chuckled, teasing me about how my petite height didn't quite match the image he had of someone my age. It felt strange being so short compared to everyone here, but his playful laughter always lightened the mood.
Today was special—I was finally allowed to help Lys on his plantation. I had been eager to contribute, feeling somewhat useless just watching everyone else work. As I joined the others, I felt nervous about how the workers would react to me, especially given my unusual black hair. I feared they might scorn me or treat me differently, but to my surprise, they welcomed me with open arms.
The men and women working on the plantation didn't seem to care about my hair color at all. Instead, they were more interested in making sure I felt comfortable and included. They quickly assigned me lighter tasks, like picking fruits, while the male workers handled the heavier jobs. It was a bit embarrassing at first—being treated as though I might break—but I understood they were only being considerate.
As I worked alongside them, I slowly began to feel more at ease. The rhythm of picking fruits, the earthy smell of the ground, and the warmth of the sun on my skin brought back memories of home. But this place was different. The fruits were more vibrant, and the air hummed with an energy I couldn't quite place. Despite the differences, I found comfort in the familiarity of the work.
The awkwardness I initially felt began to fade, replaced by a growing sense of belonging. The workers shared stories and laughter, making the long hours pass quickly. They treated me as one of their own, and I started to look forward to each day, eager to learn more about this new world and to prove that I could hold my own, even in a place so foreign to me.
In addition to working on the plantation, I adapted to doing household chores. At first, I was completely clueless—I had never had to handle such tasks on my own before. The idea of managing a household seemed daunting, especially in a world so different from mine. But Lys was patient with me.
Sometimes, when he wasn't too busy, he'd show me how to do things properly. He'd explain the best way to sweep the floors or wash the dishes, always with a gentle smile. His presence was comforting, and he never made me feel foolish for not knowing how to do something.
Over time, I began to get the hang of it. I learned how to clean and take care of the house, finding satisfaction in a way I hadn't expected. There was a simple joy in seeing a room spotless. Lys never said much about it, but I could tell he appreciated the effort I was putting in.
One thing I took particular pride in was preparing lunch boxes for him whenever he went to work. It became a little routine of ours. I'd wake up early, just as the sun was rising, and get to work in the kitchen. Carefully, I'd prepare meals with whatever ingredients we had on hand, packing them neatly into a box for him to take to the fields.
At first, he was surprised. "You don't have to do this, you know," he said the first time I handed him a lunch box, his eyes wide. Yet I could see how much he appreciated it. I insisted, though—it was the least I could do after everything he had done for me.
It soon became a ritual I looked forward to. I enjoyed experimenting with different recipes and eagerly anticipated his reaction when he opened the box. Sometimes, he'd come home with an empty box and a bright smile, telling me how much he enjoyed the meal and how it had become popular among his coworkers.
The sense of connection I felt with Lys deepened during these moments. Each lunch box I prepared was not just a meal; it was a piece of my care and gratitude, a way to bridge the gap between my past life and this new one. In this quaint plantation house, surrounded by the vibrant energy of Aethorador, I found a new purpose that brought me joy and a growing sense of belonging.