Instruction: Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can.

Input:
But if the secret to his signature liquor's taste was in the water, it was likely he had no inclination to tell others.
"I know that's what you're thinking."
Cyrus said the exact words that Lawrence was thinking and smiled.
"It's not a secret. If you go north on a path the hunters call the Gray Wolf Road, you'll run into a deep valley. If you go in until your body barely fits, you'll find a spring that doesn't freeze no matter how cold it is. The water there is exquisite."
"Oh...Th-thank you."
He had told him so easily that Lawrence suddenly felt deflated. When he thanked him, Cyrus shrugged his rough shoulders.
"Everyone in the village knows about it."
For a moment, Lawrence felt as though a line had been drawn between them.
But he trusted the man in front of him, and it could be interpreted as though Cyrus was telling him, It's about time you knew, too, Lawrence.
"I will pay you back for this."
"You already have."
Cyrus smiled and returned to his firewood. Lawrence wanted to thank him again, out of habit as a businessperson, but he resisted. If they were friends, then it would be rude instead.
"On your way out, tell Kalm which liquor you like and take it. You went home drunk, so I bet your cute wife was pretty mad at you."
"...That's rather accurate."
"Everyone's the same."
Cyrus smiled, and Lawrence sighed in defeat.
"See you later."
"Bye."
Cyrus did not watch him go. Lawrence turned on his heel, returned to the front, and collected the liquor.
He looked back when Cyrus's place had grown distant, and lingering there in the growing darkness was a beautiful bathhouse.
Lawrence gave Holo the liquor he received from Cyrus, and once she finally regained her good mood, he asked about the water again. He also asked Hanna, who often ventured out on the mountain to gather vegetables, and she also indicated the place Cyrus mentioned was the best.
Holo nipped at him, hinting that there was no need to get liquor from Cyrus if that was the case. But if she was in a better mood, then that was good enough reason for Lawrence.
The old man, with whom Lawrence could finally communicate through liturgical script, introduced himself as Ceres. Though, it was likely not his real name, because he had been entrusted with a secret mission from his master, but it mattered not.
Since there were no other guests besides Ceres, and it was rather quiet in the bathhouse, Lawrence invited him to eat dinner with them, and he gladly accepted. His usually grumpy expression seemed to be his natural one. He complimented the food precisely and only slightly, and he seemed to narrow his eyes in enjoyment when he saw Lawrence cautioning Holo about showing her large appetite to a guest. It was embarrassing, being watched as though they were his bantering grandchildren, but if Ceres was having fun, then Lawrence should, as a bathhouse master, give over and let him smile.
The next day, Lawrence offered to help with collecting the water, but Ceres slowly shook his head. All he asked for was an earthen jug to draw the water with. He said it was his job. The pride he held in carrying out his work seemed to be like that of a knight.
Lawrence told him where the Gray Wolf Road and the marker for its entrance were and saw him off with Hanna before daybreak. Holo was fast asleep in bed, unwilling to go out in the cold.
As he departed, Ceres seemed glum as always; looking at him from behind, it seemed that his steps had a new lightness to them, though.
Lawrence sighed in content, relieved that all was finally settled.
Then, after a quick nap and working hard on his daily duties, morning became afternoon.
Ceres returned, his expression dejected.
"You didn't get the water?"
According to Cyrus, it would not freeze no matter how cold it became, but it was impossible to tell what would happen in the mountains. Thinking this, Lawrence had posed his question, but Ceres slowly shook his head. He was likely expressing his disappointment rather than a lack of understanding.

Output:
As Lawrence fed firewood to the hearth and stove, Ceres stood nearby, staring into the ceramic jug he cradled. It was a brooding, sad look.
"Here."
Lawrence gestured to the fire, and Ceres reluctantly complied. He respectfully received the jug and handed it to Holo, who was watching quietly. Then Lawrence helped with drying Ceres's wet clothes.
When that was mostly finished, he handed Ceres some mulled wine. In the dining hall next door, he whispered to Holo.
"This isn't it?"
Holo sniffed the inside of the jug and tilted her head in puzzlement.
"'Tis it."
With a wolf's sense of smell, she could discern the smell of that superior water.
But if that were so, why did Ceres seem as crestfallen as he did? Lawrence thought about it, and it suddenly bothered him. Why was this water not what he wanted? Conversely, what qualities did the water need to satisfy his search?
"Hey, does a spring of miracles really exist?" Lawrence asked suddenly, and Holo looked at him blankly. "You know, like water of youth, or water of healing, something like that," he explained, and she finally nodded.
"I, too, know of such myths. You have eaten the bread of the wheat from Pasloe, where I slept, aye?"
That was where Holo, in a strong sense of obligation, watched over the growing wheat for hundreds of years. Years before, Lawrence passed by the village occasionally on his trade route.
He looked at her, puzzled, and she smiled mischievously.
"Then you have eaten bread blessed by my miracles, though your foolishness was not cured."
***
Lawrence sighed, and Holo cackled. But he understood easily.
"If so..."
What was Ceres really looking for in the water? Or did he really believe the myths and think he would know immediately if he should drink it? Here he stood in front of what everyone in town lauded as the best water in Nyohhira, and he was perturbed.
Then, Ceres suddenly appeared, his mouth drawn taut.
"Oh, hello...This?"
It seemed he wanted the ceramic jug. Lawrence of course handed it over without a qualm.
Then Ceres put his lips to the container's mouth and heavily gulped down some of the contents. He closed his eyes, swallowing it.
He opened them after a few moments, and his expression was still that of disappointment.
"Good..."
With strange pronunciation, he spoke.
"Good..."
He said it again and shook his head. Lawrence and Holo looked at each other, and then he looked at Ceres. He gave a big sigh and placed the jug on the long table.
"No."
They were clear words of denial. Before Lawrence could say anything, Ceres turned on his heels. Lawrence thought if he could ask what was wrong with it, then they might find a way to a solution.
Or perhaps he had to tell Ceres that what he was looking for in the water was nothing but a myth.
As Lawrence was thinking this, Ceres reached out to the thing that sat next to the hearth.
"...His hat?"
What Holo was talking about was his conical hat, covered in fur and lined with metal. But Ceres flipped it over and pulled on a string inside it, removing the wet fur on the outside.
"It's a pot," Lawrence suddenly realized.
With it, Ceres took out a few small packages from his rucksack. There came a grainy sound, and when Lawrence looked at Holo standing next to him, she shrugged.
"Alcohol."
Ceres spoke up, and Lawrence, suddenly snapping back to reality, hurriedly tried to make his way over to the kitchen. Ceres stopped him.
"No. Alcohol."
Ceres shook his head and repeated his words again. There were hemp bags in the pot he was holding.
Lawrence recalled what Holo had said yesterday. These were things he carried on his person.
What was inside the bags was wheat. If so, then the pot he brought...
"You're...a brewer."
Ceres, not understanding Lawrence's words, furrowed his brow and once more said, "Alcohol."


Instruction: Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can.

Input:
As Lawrence fed firewood to the hearth and stove, Ceres stood nearby, staring into the ceramic jug he cradled. It was a brooding, sad look.
"Here."
Lawrence gestured to the fire, and Ceres reluctantly complied. He respectfully received the jug and handed it to Holo, who was watching quietly. Then Lawrence helped with drying Ceres's wet clothes.
When that was mostly finished, he handed Ceres some mulled wine. In the dining hall next door, he whispered to Holo.
"This isn't it?"
Holo sniffed the inside of the jug and tilted her head in puzzlement.
"'Tis it."
With a wolf's sense of smell, she could discern the smell of that superior water.
But if that were so, why did Ceres seem as crestfallen as he did? Lawrence thought about it, and it suddenly bothered him. Why was this water not what he wanted? Conversely, what qualities did the water need to satisfy his search?
"Hey, does a spring of miracles really exist?" Lawrence asked suddenly, and Holo looked at him blankly. "You know, like water of youth, or water of healing, something like that," he explained, and she finally nodded.
"I, too, know of such myths. You have eaten the bread of the wheat from Pasloe, where I slept, aye?"
That was where Holo, in a strong sense of obligation, watched over the growing wheat for hundreds of years. Years before, Lawrence passed by the village occasionally on his trade route.
He looked at her, puzzled, and she smiled mischievously.
"Then you have eaten bread blessed by my miracles, though your foolishness was not cured."
***
Lawrence sighed, and Holo cackled. But he understood easily.
"If so..."
What was Ceres really looking for in the water? Or did he really believe the myths and think he would know immediately if he should drink it? Here he stood in front of what everyone in town lauded as the best water in Nyohhira, and he was perturbed.
Then, Ceres suddenly appeared, his mouth drawn taut.
"Oh, hello...This?"
It seemed he wanted the ceramic jug. Lawrence of course handed it over without a qualm.
Then Ceres put his lips to the container's mouth and heavily gulped down some of the contents. He closed his eyes, swallowing it.
He opened them after a few moments, and his expression was still that of disappointment.
"Good..."
With strange pronunciation, he spoke.
"Good..."
He said it again and shook his head. Lawrence and Holo looked at each other, and then he looked at Ceres. He gave a big sigh and placed the jug on the long table.
"No."
They were clear words of denial. Before Lawrence could say anything, Ceres turned on his heels. Lawrence thought if he could ask what was wrong with it, then they might find a way to a solution.
Or perhaps he had to tell Ceres that what he was looking for in the water was nothing but a myth.
As Lawrence was thinking this, Ceres reached out to the thing that sat next to the hearth.
"...His hat?"
What Holo was talking about was his conical hat, covered in fur and lined with metal. But Ceres flipped it over and pulled on a string inside it, removing the wet fur on the outside.
"It's a pot," Lawrence suddenly realized.
With it, Ceres took out a few small packages from his rucksack. There came a grainy sound, and when Lawrence looked at Holo standing next to him, she shrugged.
"Alcohol."
Ceres spoke up, and Lawrence, suddenly snapping back to reality, hurriedly tried to make his way over to the kitchen. Ceres stopped him.
"No. Alcohol."
Ceres shook his head and repeated his words again. There were hemp bags in the pot he was holding.
Lawrence recalled what Holo had said yesterday. These were things he carried on his person.
What was inside the bags was wheat. If so, then the pot he brought...
"You're...a brewer."
Ceres, not understanding Lawrence's words, furrowed his brow and once more said, "Alcohol."

Output:
"Oh, 'tis local wheat."
Holo identified it just by looking.
Ceres boiled the water in the first vessel, occasionally stirring it. Steam billowed, but just as it seemed to start bubbling, he removed that pot from the flame. Retrieving a wooden ladle from his rucksack, he mixed the water into the wheat. This continued until all of the water in the pot had been shifted over. In the end, he checked the temperature with his finger, adjusted the pot's position on the fire pit, and flipped over the now-empty water pot for use as a lid.
It seemed the first step was finished.
Ceres faced Lawrence and indicated he needed a pen and paper.
"I am a chef employed by a certain country's royal family."
Ceres first wrote this and paused. Lawrence was not surprised to read "royal family" since he had paid so well and how freely he used liturgical script, which indicated a well-to-do upbringing. A regular brewer would not be the same.
"However, I originally worked for the princess's family, and I was placed where I presently am as a part of her dowry."
He wrote and suddenly took the pot in hand and closed his eyes, as if checking for something.
Then, he stuck his fingers directly into the hearth's coals and adjusted the flame. He did not seem at all bothered by the heat, and it appeared he was not burnt. The hands of a master craftsman are thick, or so the saying went. That seemed to be exactly the case here.
"When the princess learned she would marry, she indulged her selfishness only once. She said she wished to soak in the famous waters of Nyohhira. If she did, she said, she would be able to overcome anything."
Those events had happened during a time more unstable than now. Lawrence nodded, and Ceres slowly closed his eyes. When he did, it seemed as though he could still hear the turmoil.
"She hid her origins and put up at an inn, while I accompanied her as her servant. She had a wonderful time and spent her days in what might have been her last moments of freedom, as well as preparing herself for the future."
For those who held high social status, bloodlines were nothing but a tool. Lawrence translated every detail for Holo, who made a sympathetic, glum face.
"However, the princess happened upon a young man there. He, too, was of noble lineage and they recognized one another's identities immediately, so we could not outright ignore him. While I looked on in amazement, the two became close."
As Lawrence conveyed this to Holo, her face darkened even more. With a saddened expression, she drew close to him and clung to his arm. It seemed as though she was praying, I hope this will have a happy ending.
"The princess was a noblewoman that quite gracefully maintained court etiquette, but in Nyohhira, she was simply herself. She held her liquor well so she did nothing but drink and dance, so much that the young man finally admitted defeat."
Holo was happy, moved by a woman who loved to drink and dance.
"But the fun days soon passed, and the princess was not so weak as to make a mistake and give into a passing temptation. When the time came, she quietly gathered her things, and said good-bye to the man she had danced with, with a single handshake."
He straightened his back but did not smile, as though imagining a strong princess who put on a brave front. Still clinging to Lawrence's arm, Holo stared intensely at Ceres's writing, even though there was no way she could have understood it.
"On the way home, the princess spoke not even once. When she finally did, it was the day of the wedding, when her life in a strange land, in a strange castle, with strange people began. I had not known how anxious she was. She was strong. She did, however, say one thing to me, who had accompanied her from her homeland. 'Do you remember the taste of the liquor there?' she asked. I, of course, could not dishonor the princess. I told her, 'I am a chef that has mastered the food of the court, and on my pride, I do remember.'"


Instruction: Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can.

Input:
"Oh, 'tis local wheat."
Holo identified it just by looking.
Ceres boiled the water in the first vessel, occasionally stirring it. Steam billowed, but just as it seemed to start bubbling, he removed that pot from the flame. Retrieving a wooden ladle from his rucksack, he mixed the water into the wheat. This continued until all of the water in the pot had been shifted over. In the end, he checked the temperature with his finger, adjusted the pot's position on the fire pit, and flipped over the now-empty water pot for use as a lid.
It seemed the first step was finished.
Ceres faced Lawrence and indicated he needed a pen and paper.
"I am a chef employed by a certain country's royal family."
Ceres first wrote this and paused. Lawrence was not surprised to read "royal family" since he had paid so well and how freely he used liturgical script, which indicated a well-to-do upbringing. A regular brewer would not be the same.
"However, I originally worked for the princess's family, and I was placed where I presently am as a part of her dowry."
He wrote and suddenly took the pot in hand and closed his eyes, as if checking for something.
Then, he stuck his fingers directly into the hearth's coals and adjusted the flame. He did not seem at all bothered by the heat, and it appeared he was not burnt. The hands of a master craftsman are thick, or so the saying went. That seemed to be exactly the case here.
"When the princess learned she would marry, she indulged her selfishness only once. She said she wished to soak in the famous waters of Nyohhira. If she did, she said, she would be able to overcome anything."
Those events had happened during a time more unstable than now. Lawrence nodded, and Ceres slowly closed his eyes. When he did, it seemed as though he could still hear the turmoil.
"She hid her origins and put up at an inn, while I accompanied her as her servant. She had a wonderful time and spent her days in what might have been her last moments of freedom, as well as preparing herself for the future."
For those who held high social status, bloodlines were nothing but a tool. Lawrence translated every detail for Holo, who made a sympathetic, glum face.
"However, the princess happened upon a young man there. He, too, was of noble lineage and they recognized one another's identities immediately, so we could not outright ignore him. While I looked on in amazement, the two became close."
As Lawrence conveyed this to Holo, her face darkened even more. With a saddened expression, she drew close to him and clung to his arm. It seemed as though she was praying, I hope this will have a happy ending.
"The princess was a noblewoman that quite gracefully maintained court etiquette, but in Nyohhira, she was simply herself. She held her liquor well so she did nothing but drink and dance, so much that the young man finally admitted defeat."
Holo was happy, moved by a woman who loved to drink and dance.
"But the fun days soon passed, and the princess was not so weak as to make a mistake and give into a passing temptation. When the time came, she quietly gathered her things, and said good-bye to the man she had danced with, with a single handshake."
He straightened his back but did not smile, as though imagining a strong princess who put on a brave front. Still clinging to Lawrence's arm, Holo stared intensely at Ceres's writing, even though there was no way she could have understood it.
"On the way home, the princess spoke not even once. When she finally did, it was the day of the wedding, when her life in a strange land, in a strange castle, with strange people began. I had not known how anxious she was. She was strong. She did, however, say one thing to me, who had accompanied her from her homeland. 'Do you remember the taste of the liquor there?' she asked. I, of course, could not dishonor the princess. I told her, 'I am a chef that has mastered the food of the court, and on my pride, I do remember.'"

Output:
"Then she said, 'It's all right, then. If I can drink that anytime, it'll be all right.'"
The old man's hand stopped, but he did not look up from the paper. The only sound in the room was the crack, crack of the burning coal in the sunken hearth.
The rustling sound of clothes was Holo, leaning forward.
"So...Was there a familiar face where she was sent to marry? No?"
It was common for nobility to not know the face of the person they were promised to in political marriages. Since that was expected, it was easy to imagine stories. Though it was to be a calculated marriage, they both already knew and grew attracted to each other in a place where they did not know their identities. It was a popular fantasy among the village girls.
And of course, Ceres was already well aware. Though he did not entirely understand Holo's words, he slowly shook his head.
Holo inhaled sharply. Lawrence wrapped his arm around Holo's small back.
"The king was a wonderful man, twelve years her senior. He took good care of her. They were blessed with children, and I'd never seen such a happy court before."
Ceres looked at Holo and gave her a little smile.
Holo, knowing she had been fooled, for some reason hit Lawrence's arm. He could tell that she seemed genuinely relieved. Ceres was excellent at telling stories. He likely told this one to his own grandchildren as well.
But there, he stopped writing.
There was one difference between stories and reality—reality did not stop there.
"The princess did not ask for that liquor once. There was no need. However, the king has taken ill, becoming bedridden for a long while, and she suddenly called upon me. She told me to fetch that liquor."
It was likely not for her own sake, but for the king that was pained in sickness and did not have much time left.
The kings of old colored their lives with battle and politics. The luxury of leisurely soaking in a hot spring was for nothing higher than the caged daughters of nobility.
He recalled Ceres's gloomy expression.
A chef's trade had the sole purpose of making people happy. In Ceres's professional life, this was likely his last and most important job.
"But you can't re-create the taste?" Lawrence asked as he wrote the same. Ceres dropped his shoulders and nodded.
"I have tried several different methods of brewing with local wheat already. I remember the taste, the ingredients, everything. But I cannot re-create it. The ale I was treated to here was so pure. I can tell the result of the brew if I know the taste of the water. Otherwise, I thought, as I went from house to house."
"Otherwise?"
Lawrence's question appeared on his face, and Ceres looked back at him before looking at Holo, for some reason.
His eyes squinted slowly, as though he was calmly smiling.
"They say the air of the land seeps into the drink at the time of the brewing. A dreary air produces a dreary brew. A cheerful air produces a cheerful brew. That is why I thought this could be the place."
After writing the last letter, he gave a meaningful smile. Holo cocked her head in confusion, but Lawrence cleared his throat in embarrassment. Earlier, he had seen them napping together by the hearth, and even now, Holo stuck to his side like a little girl.
Lawrence, by any means, had no courage to say that his own bathhouse was the best in Nyohhira, but he could say that it was different. Cyrus, too, had said such a thing to him earlier that day.
Lawrence and Holo, as husband and wife, definitely got along best in the whole village.
Lawrence, too, had heard of such a brewer's superstition, but he did not believe it. Ceres was likely the same. He was just searching desperately for some sort of clue.
"The water here is good. That is true for every house here. Since it is the same water they use to brew, the drink is also good. But it is an average good. That special flavor I tasted thirty years ago has not shown itself."


Instruction: Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can.

Input:
"Then she said, 'It's all right, then. If I can drink that anytime, it'll be all right.'"
The old man's hand stopped, but he did not look up from the paper. The only sound in the room was the crack, crack of the burning coal in the sunken hearth.
The rustling sound of clothes was Holo, leaning forward.
"So...Was there a familiar face where she was sent to marry? No?"
It was common for nobility to not know the face of the person they were promised to in political marriages. Since that was expected, it was easy to imagine stories. Though it was to be a calculated marriage, they both already knew and grew attracted to each other in a place where they did not know their identities. It was a popular fantasy among the village girls.
And of course, Ceres was already well aware. Though he did not entirely understand Holo's words, he slowly shook his head.
Holo inhaled sharply. Lawrence wrapped his arm around Holo's small back.
"The king was a wonderful man, twelve years her senior. He took good care of her. They were blessed with children, and I'd never seen such a happy court before."
Ceres looked at Holo and gave her a little smile.
Holo, knowing she had been fooled, for some reason hit Lawrence's arm. He could tell that she seemed genuinely relieved. Ceres was excellent at telling stories. He likely told this one to his own grandchildren as well.
But there, he stopped writing.
There was one difference between stories and reality—reality did not stop there.
"The princess did not ask for that liquor once. There was no need. However, the king has taken ill, becoming bedridden for a long while, and she suddenly called upon me. She told me to fetch that liquor."
It was likely not for her own sake, but for the king that was pained in sickness and did not have much time left.
The kings of old colored their lives with battle and politics. The luxury of leisurely soaking in a hot spring was for nothing higher than the caged daughters of nobility.
He recalled Ceres's gloomy expression.
A chef's trade had the sole purpose of making people happy. In Ceres's professional life, this was likely his last and most important job.
"But you can't re-create the taste?" Lawrence asked as he wrote the same. Ceres dropped his shoulders and nodded.
"I have tried several different methods of brewing with local wheat already. I remember the taste, the ingredients, everything. But I cannot re-create it. The ale I was treated to here was so pure. I can tell the result of the brew if I know the taste of the water. Otherwise, I thought, as I went from house to house."
"Otherwise?"
Lawrence's question appeared on his face, and Ceres looked back at him before looking at Holo, for some reason.
His eyes squinted slowly, as though he was calmly smiling.
"They say the air of the land seeps into the drink at the time of the brewing. A dreary air produces a dreary brew. A cheerful air produces a cheerful brew. That is why I thought this could be the place."
After writing the last letter, he gave a meaningful smile. Holo cocked her head in confusion, but Lawrence cleared his throat in embarrassment. Earlier, he had seen them napping together by the hearth, and even now, Holo stuck to his side like a little girl.
Lawrence, by any means, had no courage to say that his own bathhouse was the best in Nyohhira, but he could say that it was different. Cyrus, too, had said such a thing to him earlier that day.
Lawrence and Holo, as husband and wife, definitely got along best in the whole village.
Lawrence, too, had heard of such a brewer's superstition, but he did not believe it. Ceres was likely the same. He was just searching desperately for some sort of clue.
"The water here is good. That is true for every house here. Since it is the same water they use to brew, the drink is also good. But it is an average good. That special flavor I tasted thirty years ago has not shown itself."

Output:
"Flavor..."
Or perhaps the air of that time itself had melted into the taste.
Ceres, glum face unchanging, glared at the metal pot.
It sat there silently.
Holo had a good nose and was thus picky with taste, but she could not produce it. Hanna did not know much about making alcohol, either, so in the end, Lawrence went to Cyrus.
"The taste of the ale from thirty years ago?"
When he told him the story, Cyrus became clearly flustered.
"That's when I first came here...," he said, then closed his mouth and directed his gaze to the spot beside Lawrence.
Standing there was a visitor that came before he did.
"I was about your age then, boy."
The speaker was an elderly man who had a perfectly round head and a long, white beard that gave the impression of steam rising from the baths. He was not tall, but in old age, one could see the reminders that he had been quite stout in his younger days. His name was Jeck, and he was the now-retired, former master of the bathhouse that served the best food in all of Nyohhira.
"But ale, right? That's difficult stuff. With local wheat, if the malt roast is about the same, you won't get a difference. If he says he's mastered the food of the court, I don't think he'd get that wrong."
Without mentioning his true intentions, Ceres shared his information with Cyrus and the others.
"Does it depend on the year of the wheat?"
Cyrus asked this, and Jeck shook his head. The pair, separated in age almost as much as a father and son, were brought together by their love for making alcohol and seemed to be rather close as master and pupil.
"I don't know if the harvest is really bad, but if you add wheat grinding to the wort before it becomes alcohol, something will come of it. That's for someone with much greater skill than us."
Jeck was also mindful of Ceres; it seemed the old bathhouse owner's pride had been a bit hurt when Ceres looked unhappy about his food and drink. But when Lawrence told him that Ceres was a court chef, Jeck was shocked for another reason. For anyone who stood in the world of cooking, this man was an existence normally far beyond reach.
"He said 'special flavor.'"
"Hmm...It might be the taste of the time..."
"Isn't that a brewer's superstition?" Cyrus asked.
"Hmm? Ah, you mean how the taste changes depending on the air of the place. That is true, but—"
"Huh?!"
Lawrence and Cyrus both raised their voices at the same time, and Jeck snorted.
"But it's not about the mood of the place, which you hear often. As the weather changes, the earth does, too, and the taste of the drink can actually change, even when made from the same ingredients. I'm sure, even the spirits of drink in the heavens alter like we do when the earth changes. And that's why our guest here came back. You can get the ingredients as long as you have gold, and something will come of it. Isn't that right?"
His question was directed at Lawrence. As a former merchant, his face was known throughout this northern land in a way. Jeck smiled like a mischievous child, and Lawrence could only feel obligated.
"That's, well, yes...It will take some time, but I can get them."
"He has the skill, he has the ingredients, and he's come all the way here. If he doesn't get the flavor after brewing with all that, then what tints it is the air of time...In a word, his memories."
However, would a chef who decorated the plates of royalty forget such a taste, even if it was thirty years ago?
Neither Lawrence nor Cyrus said anything, but shared this question between them with a glance. Jeck gave an exaggerated sigh.
"You two are still kids."
He spoke frankly.
"The food you eat when you're having fun is good because of that. It's even better when you're with pleasant friends. But if you sit and eat with your wife when you're in the middle of a fight, it won't taste like anything! That's how it is."
***
The two looked down, as though apologizing for their inattentiveness, and Jeck nodded dramatically. Lawrence liked him—he reminded him of Holo.


Instruction: Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can.

Input:
"Flavor..."
Or perhaps the air of that time itself had melted into the taste.
Ceres, glum face unchanging, glared at the metal pot.
It sat there silently.
Holo had a good nose and was thus picky with taste, but she could not produce it. Hanna did not know much about making alcohol, either, so in the end, Lawrence went to Cyrus.
"The taste of the ale from thirty years ago?"
When he told him the story, Cyrus became clearly flustered.
"That's when I first came here...," he said, then closed his mouth and directed his gaze to the spot beside Lawrence.
Standing there was a visitor that came before he did.
"I was about your age then, boy."
The speaker was an elderly man who had a perfectly round head and a long, white beard that gave the impression of steam rising from the baths. He was not tall, but in old age, one could see the reminders that he had been quite stout in his younger days. His name was Jeck, and he was the now-retired, former master of the bathhouse that served the best food in all of Nyohhira.
"But ale, right? That's difficult stuff. With local wheat, if the malt roast is about the same, you won't get a difference. If he says he's mastered the food of the court, I don't think he'd get that wrong."
Without mentioning his true intentions, Ceres shared his information with Cyrus and the others.
"Does it depend on the year of the wheat?"
Cyrus asked this, and Jeck shook his head. The pair, separated in age almost as much as a father and son, were brought together by their love for making alcohol and seemed to be rather close as master and pupil.
"I don't know if the harvest is really bad, but if you add wheat grinding to the wort before it becomes alcohol, something will come of it. That's for someone with much greater skill than us."
Jeck was also mindful of Ceres; it seemed the old bathhouse owner's pride had been a bit hurt when Ceres looked unhappy about his food and drink. But when Lawrence told him that Ceres was a court chef, Jeck was shocked for another reason. For anyone who stood in the world of cooking, this man was an existence normally far beyond reach.
"He said 'special flavor.'"
"Hmm...It might be the taste of the time..."
"Isn't that a brewer's superstition?" Cyrus asked.
"Hmm? Ah, you mean how the taste changes depending on the air of the place. That is true, but—"
"Huh?!"
Lawrence and Cyrus both raised their voices at the same time, and Jeck snorted.
"But it's not about the mood of the place, which you hear often. As the weather changes, the earth does, too, and the taste of the drink can actually change, even when made from the same ingredients. I'm sure, even the spirits of drink in the heavens alter like we do when the earth changes. And that's why our guest here came back. You can get the ingredients as long as you have gold, and something will come of it. Isn't that right?"
His question was directed at Lawrence. As a former merchant, his face was known throughout this northern land in a way. Jeck smiled like a mischievous child, and Lawrence could only feel obligated.
"That's, well, yes...It will take some time, but I can get them."
"He has the skill, he has the ingredients, and he's come all the way here. If he doesn't get the flavor after brewing with all that, then what tints it is the air of time...In a word, his memories."
However, would a chef who decorated the plates of royalty forget such a taste, even if it was thirty years ago?
Neither Lawrence nor Cyrus said anything, but shared this question between them with a glance. Jeck gave an exaggerated sigh.
"You two are still kids."
He spoke frankly.
"The food you eat when you're having fun is good because of that. It's even better when you're with pleasant friends. But if you sit and eat with your wife when you're in the middle of a fight, it won't taste like anything! That's how it is."
***
The two looked down, as though apologizing for their inattentiveness, and Jeck nodded dramatically. Lawrence liked him—he reminded him of Holo.

Output:
"When Cyrus told me earlier about our guest, he told me what you said, Lawrence. I agree with you. I was angry—'what a stubborn customer! It's his fault!'...and such. I didn't realize steam was clouding my soul. How regrettable that is."
Jeck spoke as he took Lawrence's hand.
"You've reminded me what's important at this old age. Thank you, Lawrence."
Hearing those words was too much for Lawrence, and he was at a loss. But Jeck was not teasing him nor making a joke, it seemed. Lawrence looked back at the old man in awe, like a child.
He gripped Jeck's hand in return with natural strength.
"Heh-heh. When you first came and built your bathhouse here, I thought, look at this timid man with no spine."
Jeck smiled and spoke freely, and though Cyrus did not laugh outright in front of Lawrence, he played it off with a cough.
"Sometimes, a person never fits into the place they live. But you were meant to come here, Mr. Lawrence."
Jeck clasped his shoulder, and he felt as though something was peeling off from his stiffened face.
Lawrence's expression, now soft, showed a smile of pure happiness.
"But when I first drank the water here, I was sick all the time."
"Ha-ha-ha. That's the sulfur in the water. I had my first bath in these waters, so it's nothing to me, but Cyrus here kept his mouth closed at first, too."
"Even the water I used for bread was from the river or pure mountain water."
When he said that, Lawrence recalled the cool taste of the water that Holo gave him after he came home drunk. Water made from snow melted in the heat of the baths had that taste. That was the aroma of Nyohhira.
That is why Cyrus continued, not thinking about it.
"You can taste the hot springs in everything."
What?
They all spoke at once. Even Cyrus was surprised at his own words. The bathhouse masters, from the oldest to the newest, all looked at one another. "Impossible," was written on all of their faces.
Lawrence went back through his memories. He immediately recalled his conversations with Cyrus and Ceres.
Good liquor came from good water. But the best water that Ceres had collected from the mountain was, according to him, just good. Following that, if they only thought based on what Cyrus said, then the reason Ceres could never reach his answer was clear.
This was Nyohhira. The guests were treated with the utmost care. Grumpy but well-paying guests were given even more special attention. Lawrence offered to call in musicians and dancers just for Ceres, who paid in gold pieces. Even the bread they gave him in his lunch was of the best quality. They did all they could in their bathhouse. That was why there was something he never tasted while he was here.
It was what Cyrus said—liquor made from the least troublesome way to obtain water, the one they gave to drunks who could not tell the difference in flavors.
A simple ale made from snow that melted in the heat of the baths.
"...They do say that it is darkest underneath the candle stand."
Jeck groaned. Though there was no solid conclusion that was the answer, they felt close to touching something.
"I'm sure we can maintain Nyohhira's reputation with this," Cyrus said.
Lawrence watched the two of them, and they suddenly looked back.
"Well, what are we waiting for?! We have an unhappy guest at Lawrence's place!"
As though he was being scolded by his trade master, Lawrence jumped and hurriedly turned on his heel, soon placing his hand on the doorway. But then he realized this was not just his own accomplishment. When he thought this, he turned around to find Jeck and Cyrus smiling quietly.
"We'll be holding a commiseration party for those who could not make a guest smile. Go."
Jeck waved him off with a big smile of his own.
"We'll hear about it later."


Instruction: Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can.

Input:
"When Cyrus told me earlier about our guest, he told me what you said, Lawrence. I agree with you. I was angry—'what a stubborn customer! It's his fault!'...and such. I didn't realize steam was clouding my soul. How regrettable that is."
Jeck spoke as he took Lawrence's hand.
"You've reminded me what's important at this old age. Thank you, Lawrence."
Hearing those words was too much for Lawrence, and he was at a loss. But Jeck was not teasing him nor making a joke, it seemed. Lawrence looked back at the old man in awe, like a child.
He gripped Jeck's hand in return with natural strength.
"Heh-heh. When you first came and built your bathhouse here, I thought, look at this timid man with no spine."
Jeck smiled and spoke freely, and though Cyrus did not laugh outright in front of Lawrence, he played it off with a cough.
"Sometimes, a person never fits into the place they live. But you were meant to come here, Mr. Lawrence."
Jeck clasped his shoulder, and he felt as though something was peeling off from his stiffened face.
Lawrence's expression, now soft, showed a smile of pure happiness.
"But when I first drank the water here, I was sick all the time."
"Ha-ha-ha. That's the sulfur in the water. I had my first bath in these waters, so it's nothing to me, but Cyrus here kept his mouth closed at first, too."
"Even the water I used for bread was from the river or pure mountain water."
When he said that, Lawrence recalled the cool taste of the water that Holo gave him after he came home drunk. Water made from snow melted in the heat of the baths had that taste. That was the aroma of Nyohhira.
That is why Cyrus continued, not thinking about it.
"You can taste the hot springs in everything."
What?
They all spoke at once. Even Cyrus was surprised at his own words. The bathhouse masters, from the oldest to the newest, all looked at one another. "Impossible," was written on all of their faces.
Lawrence went back through his memories. He immediately recalled his conversations with Cyrus and Ceres.
Good liquor came from good water. But the best water that Ceres had collected from the mountain was, according to him, just good. Following that, if they only thought based on what Cyrus said, then the reason Ceres could never reach his answer was clear.
This was Nyohhira. The guests were treated with the utmost care. Grumpy but well-paying guests were given even more special attention. Lawrence offered to call in musicians and dancers just for Ceres, who paid in gold pieces. Even the bread they gave him in his lunch was of the best quality. They did all they could in their bathhouse. That was why there was something he never tasted while he was here.
It was what Cyrus said—liquor made from the least troublesome way to obtain water, the one they gave to drunks who could not tell the difference in flavors.
A simple ale made from snow that melted in the heat of the baths.
"...They do say that it is darkest underneath the candle stand."
Jeck groaned. Though there was no solid conclusion that was the answer, they felt close to touching something.
"I'm sure we can maintain Nyohhira's reputation with this," Cyrus said.
Lawrence watched the two of them, and they suddenly looked back.
"Well, what are we waiting for?! We have an unhappy guest at Lawrence's place!"
As though he was being scolded by his trade master, Lawrence jumped and hurriedly turned on his heel, soon placing his hand on the doorway. But then he realized this was not just his own accomplishment. When he thought this, he turned around to find Jeck and Cyrus smiling quietly.
"We'll be holding a commiseration party for those who could not make a guest smile. Go."
Jeck waved him off with a big smile of his own.
"We'll hear about it later."

Output:
Lawrence, his chest bursting with happiness, left Cyrus's bathhouse and quickly returned to his own. Holo and Hanna, who were watching the next part of the brewing process with great interest, saw him return with curious faces.
Lawrence explained the circumstances, and Hanna, half in disbelief, brought water from snow that had been melted in the heat of the baths.
Ceres took a sip and closed his eyes and gave a deep sigh.
And when he opened his eyes, he smiled, as though the sun had finally shown its face through the clouds.
They ended up using two kinds of water in the brewing process, but the rest of the ingredients were the same. Indeed, even the brewer was the same, so the difference in taste simply depended on the water.
After a few days, the difference in the results was clear.
"I didn't know it would be so different."
Lawrence contemplated the taste of the frothy ale. He would not know the difference if it was just given to him, but side by side, he could tell. Ceres knew the difference, as he was always comparing with his memory from thirty years ago, though that was to be expected.
"With this, my final mission is complete."
After finishing the two brews, Ceres wrote this on a paper. He was getting quite old, and though they were orders from his master, this court chef was likely already no longer in charge of the kitchen if he was able to be away from the manor for so long.
"Truly, I thank you."
Ceres, the weight lifted from his shoulders, was a kind and gentle old man. Since he had found what he was looking for, there was no point in staying longer. He began to collect his luggage. Lawrence tried to offer change for the gold piece that Ceres gave him with a silver piece, but he refused.
He said it was a sign of thanks, and his expression became stubborn again.
And with the same look on his face, he wrote:
"It is payment for when I come here again, when I am retired and bored."
Ceres faced him with a smile, and there was nothing more he could say. Even if it was just his word, Lawrence wrote in large letters, "We will be waiting for you!"
Ceres nodded happily.
When they saw their guest off, carrying the liquor he made on his back, he walked with a more vigorous step than when he came, which had been only a few days prior. Like liquor, it seemed waiting a bit helped bring back the memory better.
"'Tis your age," Holo said flatly, pouring the rest of the ale that Ceres made into a cup.
"Hey, leave a little for me."
Holo pretended not to hear, deliberately drinking it down and savoring the taste.
"Honestly..." He sighed, and with a big white frothy mustache under her nose on her silly face, Holo looked happy.
As he wondered why, she rested her head on his shoulder and said, "I must remember this taste."
A taste to recall this land, this moment.
"Only in moderation."
There was a hint of bitterness in Lawrence's words. He would not live the same length of time as Holo. After he died, he did not want her to suffer from it.
But that, too, was the same as ale. A drink's quality did not come from its sweetness.
"You fool."
Holo wore a troubled smile and took Lawrence's hand. When he died, instead of olive oil, he would rather this ale be used to anoint him. As he thought this, he took a drink from the cup Holo shared with him.
It was a drink from the bathhouse that conjured smiles and happiness. Indeed, perhaps it was a bit too sweet.
***
He could hear the distant sounds of woodcutting, mixed with clattering cart wheels, a mule's whinny, and voices busily calling out to one another. If he closed his eyes, it almost felt like he was in a town that was being built.
The hustle and bustle signaled that winter was finally ending.
The weather was good, and there was no wind in the calm sky. The people in this remote mountain village called Nyohhira were working hard to wash off the dirt of winter.


Instruction: Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can.

Input:
Lawrence, his chest bursting with happiness, left Cyrus's bathhouse and quickly returned to his own. Holo and Hanna, who were watching the next part of the brewing process with great interest, saw him return with curious faces.
Lawrence explained the circumstances, and Hanna, half in disbelief, brought water from snow that had been melted in the heat of the baths.
Ceres took a sip and closed his eyes and gave a deep sigh.
And when he opened his eyes, he smiled, as though the sun had finally shown its face through the clouds.
They ended up using two kinds of water in the brewing process, but the rest of the ingredients were the same. Indeed, even the brewer was the same, so the difference in taste simply depended on the water.
After a few days, the difference in the results was clear.
"I didn't know it would be so different."
Lawrence contemplated the taste of the frothy ale. He would not know the difference if it was just given to him, but side by side, he could tell. Ceres knew the difference, as he was always comparing with his memory from thirty years ago, though that was to be expected.
"With this, my final mission is complete."
After finishing the two brews, Ceres wrote this on a paper. He was getting quite old, and though they were orders from his master, this court chef was likely already no longer in charge of the kitchen if he was able to be away from the manor for so long.
"Truly, I thank you."
Ceres, the weight lifted from his shoulders, was a kind and gentle old man. Since he had found what he was looking for, there was no point in staying longer. He began to collect his luggage. Lawrence tried to offer change for the gold piece that Ceres gave him with a silver piece, but he refused.
He said it was a sign of thanks, and his expression became stubborn again.
And with the same look on his face, he wrote:
"It is payment for when I come here again, when I am retired and bored."
Ceres faced him with a smile, and there was nothing more he could say. Even if it was just his word, Lawrence wrote in large letters, "We will be waiting for you!"
Ceres nodded happily.
When they saw their guest off, carrying the liquor he made on his back, he walked with a more vigorous step than when he came, which had been only a few days prior. Like liquor, it seemed waiting a bit helped bring back the memory better.
"'Tis your age," Holo said flatly, pouring the rest of the ale that Ceres made into a cup.
"Hey, leave a little for me."
Holo pretended not to hear, deliberately drinking it down and savoring the taste.
"Honestly..." He sighed, and with a big white frothy mustache under her nose on her silly face, Holo looked happy.
As he wondered why, she rested her head on his shoulder and said, "I must remember this taste."
A taste to recall this land, this moment.
"Only in moderation."
There was a hint of bitterness in Lawrence's words. He would not live the same length of time as Holo. After he died, he did not want her to suffer from it.
But that, too, was the same as ale. A drink's quality did not come from its sweetness.
"You fool."
Holo wore a troubled smile and took Lawrence's hand. When he died, instead of olive oil, he would rather this ale be used to anoint him. As he thought this, he took a drink from the cup Holo shared with him.
It was a drink from the bathhouse that conjured smiles and happiness. Indeed, perhaps it was a bit too sweet.
***
He could hear the distant sounds of woodcutting, mixed with clattering cart wheels, a mule's whinny, and voices busily calling out to one another. If he closed his eyes, it almost felt like he was in a town that was being built.
The hustle and bustle signaled that winter was finally ending.
The weather was good, and there was no wind in the calm sky. The people in this remote mountain village called Nyohhira were working hard to wash off the dirt of winter.

Output:
There was a continuous flow of people in and out of the town meeting hall, and the smell of rusted metal hung over the place. Everyone had a bag in hand and dropped them onto the long table in the room's center. After loosening the drawstrings and emptying the contents, out came a whole variety of different coins.
"All right then, Mr. Alaise, we'll take it from here."
"Thanks, Lawrence."
The bathhouse master, who had more hair in his beard than above his hairline, thanked Lawrence as he rubbed his head.
Sitting at the seat of honor, Lawrence nodded with a smile as his hands blackened with work. Or more accurately, he was so busy that the smile was plastered to his face and he could not take it off. That was because one after the other, the masters from the different bathhouses arrived with the coins that guests had paid them over the winter.
He sorted the coins—typically there were five to seven kinds, and at most between ten to twenty or more—then had to count each, and then weigh them if the situation called for it. That was because a guest with too much time on his or her hands might have carefully whittled away at the coins to pilfer the silver and bronze shavings. The money changer would buy the same amount of coins for less if the weight did not add up properly. Lawrence had been at it since morning.
The hot spring village, Nyohhira, was located on the frontiers of frontiers in the middle of nowhere. The various currencies that passed between various peoples often ended their long journeys here. So twice a year, the inhabitants brought the coins they collected from guest payments to a bigger town that needed them. There they bought the materials they needed for the new season, hired craftsmen to repair the bathhouses, and left the rest of the money with the money changer. They would not gain anything from hoarding coins in boxes that had gone moldy from the steam, and they did not know what sort of thieves they would attract if news spread about treasure holed up in the mountains.
The bathhouse masters did this work every year in rotation, and this year it was the master of Spice and Wolf—Lawrence's turn. It had been ten-odd years since they opened in Nyohhira and he had spent many years on the other side of the table asking for assistance, but he never thought this job would be so hectic.
"Mr. Lawrence, the goods from Alvo are here!"
Though counting coins already took considerable concentration, that was not his only job.
"Tell Mr. Dabon, and put it in the shed!"
Nyohhira was a small village deep in the mountains, but there were people that lived even deeper in the wilderness, scattered about in even smaller communities. It was around this time of year that they came to call on Nyohhira, when they could finally take the thawed mountain paths. These people brought the hemp and twine they had made during the winter or carried a heap of furs on their backs and traded them with the things they could only get in a village, like alcohol, food, and metal goods. The people of Nyohhira took more than half of these products for themselves, and the rest they took down to the towns with the money to sell.
It was around this time that Nyohhira transformed from a village of healing waters to a remote marketplace.
"Mr. Lawrence! The owner of Adino said he wants to change his order."
"Mr. Lawrence! Where should I store the hemp?"
"Mr. Lawrence!"
"Mr. Lawrence!"
When he finally came to a good stopping point, he was left without the energy to even stand. His ears rang, and he felt as though he could still hear his name being called. Once he had been a merchant, and he should have been used to such busy exchanges. He had done business in a market so clamorous there was barely any room to stand, where he could hardly hear his own yelling voice. All that now belonged to a distant past. He certainly felt a faint nostalgia for the tumult of those times. But now, he was much too happy simply working for the village he lived in.


Instruction: Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can.

Input:
There was a continuous flow of people in and out of the town meeting hall, and the smell of rusted metal hung over the place. Everyone had a bag in hand and dropped them onto the long table in the room's center. After loosening the drawstrings and emptying the contents, out came a whole variety of different coins.
"All right then, Mr. Alaise, we'll take it from here."
"Thanks, Lawrence."
The bathhouse master, who had more hair in his beard than above his hairline, thanked Lawrence as he rubbed his head.
Sitting at the seat of honor, Lawrence nodded with a smile as his hands blackened with work. Or more accurately, he was so busy that the smile was plastered to his face and he could not take it off. That was because one after the other, the masters from the different bathhouses arrived with the coins that guests had paid them over the winter.
He sorted the coins—typically there were five to seven kinds, and at most between ten to twenty or more—then had to count each, and then weigh them if the situation called for it. That was because a guest with too much time on his or her hands might have carefully whittled away at the coins to pilfer the silver and bronze shavings. The money changer would buy the same amount of coins for less if the weight did not add up properly. Lawrence had been at it since morning.
The hot spring village, Nyohhira, was located on the frontiers of frontiers in the middle of nowhere. The various currencies that passed between various peoples often ended their long journeys here. So twice a year, the inhabitants brought the coins they collected from guest payments to a bigger town that needed them. There they bought the materials they needed for the new season, hired craftsmen to repair the bathhouses, and left the rest of the money with the money changer. They would not gain anything from hoarding coins in boxes that had gone moldy from the steam, and they did not know what sort of thieves they would attract if news spread about treasure holed up in the mountains.
The bathhouse masters did this work every year in rotation, and this year it was the master of Spice and Wolf—Lawrence's turn. It had been ten-odd years since they opened in Nyohhira and he had spent many years on the other side of the table asking for assistance, but he never thought this job would be so hectic.
"Mr. Lawrence, the goods from Alvo are here!"
Though counting coins already took considerable concentration, that was not his only job.
"Tell Mr. Dabon, and put it in the shed!"
Nyohhira was a small village deep in the mountains, but there were people that lived even deeper in the wilderness, scattered about in even smaller communities. It was around this time of year that they came to call on Nyohhira, when they could finally take the thawed mountain paths. These people brought the hemp and twine they had made during the winter or carried a heap of furs on their backs and traded them with the things they could only get in a village, like alcohol, food, and metal goods. The people of Nyohhira took more than half of these products for themselves, and the rest they took down to the towns with the money to sell.
It was around this time that Nyohhira transformed from a village of healing waters to a remote marketplace.
"Mr. Lawrence! The owner of Adino said he wants to change his order."
"Mr. Lawrence! Where should I store the hemp?"
"Mr. Lawrence!"
"Mr. Lawrence!"
When he finally came to a good stopping point, he was left without the energy to even stand. His ears rang, and he felt as though he could still hear his name being called. Once he had been a merchant, and he should have been used to such busy exchanges. He had done business in a market so clamorous there was barely any room to stand, where he could hardly hear his own yelling voice. All that now belonged to a distant past. He certainly felt a faint nostalgia for the tumult of those times. But now, he was much too happy simply working for the village he lived in.

Output:
When he stood up to do just that, he could hear masters loitering outside the meeting hall entrance and their chattering voices.
"Oh, this is new."
"Mr. Lawrence? Yeah, he's inside."
"But really, you always look so young. I thought you were your daughter!"
He could hear the conversation from the partly open door, and before long, in came a familiar silhouette.
As he stood from his chair, he wore a small smile.
"Hello."
He felt all his fatigue slip away when he heard that voice. The one that peeked in through the doorway was a small girl, wearing a heavy overcoat that reached down to her ankles and a hood over her head. She held a small wine cask to her chest, and if someone who was not familiar with her saw, they would think she was a maidservant. There still was a hint of youth in the face under the hood.
But once this young girl stood in front of Lawrence, she grinned audaciously.
"You look like a sheared sheep."
Her usual barb pricked his ears. The girl standing before him was not what she appeared to be. Though she looked like a teenager on the outside, she was hiding animal ears underneath her hood, and she even had a tail growing from her back. Her true form was a centuries-old giant wolf that could devour a person whole, who lived in wheat, and—
Lawrence's vaunted wife, Holo.
"You didn't have to come get me."
Typically, it was their daughter Myuri, who looked exactly like Holo, who came for him. But Myuri had left on a journey, and they wondered which parent she took after.
"I thought you might cry had I let you return home alone," she said and pushed the cask onto him. Lawrence removed the cork, and his stomach tightened at the smell of mead that wafted from it. That was when he recalled that he had nothing to eat since morning. He filled his mouth with drink, and the unbearable sweetness soothed his tired body. Holo often talked about this and that, but she always looked out for him.
And it was likely that the lonely one was Holo. Winter was over and the guests had gone home. Col, who had supported the bathhouse for a long time, was away traveling, and to top it off, their only daughter, Myuri, had followed him. They had one strange guest after all that, but he, too, left a short while ago. It was especially cute that Holo came to see him because she could not stand being left alone in the empty bathhouse. He tightly embraced her slender body, which seemed to draw closer to him than usual.
"But 'tis quite the amount of goods in the shed next door. The coins, too, seem like a mountain of treasure."
"Oh right, you've never seen it before, huh?"
Holo almost never left the bathhouse if she did not have anything particular to do outside. For one, she did not age with time and was not human, so she tried not to be seen. There was also the simple fact that she just preferred staying at home.
"I think there's more than usual this year...Every year, I watch how the others work, but I was surprised to find out how tough this is. I was so busy working all day today. Thinking about how this will continue for a few days is a bit scary."
He gave a wry smile and had another drink, and Holo smiled again.
"What is it?"
"Heh-heh. I'm happy."
"Why?"
Holo was wagging her tail under her overcoat. Lawrence thought she was tricking him somehow, and he unwittingly checked himself.
"You are slowly being accepted as a member of this village."
Holo had lived for hundreds of years in a wheat field, watching over a town called Pasloe. She understood how much work it took for a new resident to finally fit in with the town.
Knowing that, she was happy.
"I've been working quite hard, too, you know."
With a tired look, he put on a front, though seemingly on purpose. Holo giggled and held out her hand to help him up.
"Only since you have had my help."
"I suppose so."
He took her small hand and stood up.


Instruction: Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can.

Input:
When he stood up to do just that, he could hear masters loitering outside the meeting hall entrance and their chattering voices.
"Oh, this is new."
"Mr. Lawrence? Yeah, he's inside."
"But really, you always look so young. I thought you were your daughter!"
He could hear the conversation from the partly open door, and before long, in came a familiar silhouette.
As he stood from his chair, he wore a small smile.
"Hello."
He felt all his fatigue slip away when he heard that voice. The one that peeked in through the doorway was a small girl, wearing a heavy overcoat that reached down to her ankles and a hood over her head. She held a small wine cask to her chest, and if someone who was not familiar with her saw, they would think she was a maidservant. There still was a hint of youth in the face under the hood.
But once this young girl stood in front of Lawrence, she grinned audaciously.
"You look like a sheared sheep."
Her usual barb pricked his ears. The girl standing before him was not what she appeared to be. Though she looked like a teenager on the outside, she was hiding animal ears underneath her hood, and she even had a tail growing from her back. Her true form was a centuries-old giant wolf that could devour a person whole, who lived in wheat, and—
Lawrence's vaunted wife, Holo.
"You didn't have to come get me."
Typically, it was their daughter Myuri, who looked exactly like Holo, who came for him. But Myuri had left on a journey, and they wondered which parent she took after.
"I thought you might cry had I let you return home alone," she said and pushed the cask onto him. Lawrence removed the cork, and his stomach tightened at the smell of mead that wafted from it. That was when he recalled that he had nothing to eat since morning. He filled his mouth with drink, and the unbearable sweetness soothed his tired body. Holo often talked about this and that, but she always looked out for him.
And it was likely that the lonely one was Holo. Winter was over and the guests had gone home. Col, who had supported the bathhouse for a long time, was away traveling, and to top it off, their only daughter, Myuri, had followed him. They had one strange guest after all that, but he, too, left a short while ago. It was especially cute that Holo came to see him because she could not stand being left alone in the empty bathhouse. He tightly embraced her slender body, which seemed to draw closer to him than usual.
"But 'tis quite the amount of goods in the shed next door. The coins, too, seem like a mountain of treasure."
"Oh right, you've never seen it before, huh?"
Holo almost never left the bathhouse if she did not have anything particular to do outside. For one, she did not age with time and was not human, so she tried not to be seen. There was also the simple fact that she just preferred staying at home.
"I think there's more than usual this year...Every year, I watch how the others work, but I was surprised to find out how tough this is. I was so busy working all day today. Thinking about how this will continue for a few days is a bit scary."
He gave a wry smile and had another drink, and Holo smiled again.
"What is it?"
"Heh-heh. I'm happy."
"Why?"
Holo was wagging her tail under her overcoat. Lawrence thought she was tricking him somehow, and he unwittingly checked himself.
"You are slowly being accepted as a member of this village."
Holo had lived for hundreds of years in a wheat field, watching over a town called Pasloe. She understood how much work it took for a new resident to finally fit in with the town.
Knowing that, she was happy.
"I've been working quite hard, too, you know."
With a tired look, he put on a front, though seemingly on purpose. Holo giggled and held out her hand to help him up.
"Only since you have had my help."
"I suppose so."
He took her small hand and stood up.

Output:
"But...," Lawrence murmured. "Even with what you've already done, I feel like I need more."
"Hmm?"
A reason that work was so busy today was that there were few young folk to take over the chores.
Kalm, whose father Cyrus was also a bathhouse master and rather close with Lawrence, came over to help, but even then it was hectic.
As he counted and weighed the masses of coins, he could not count how many times he wished that Col was still around, since he had set out to travel a bit earlier. He also thought about how his daughter Myuri could have taken care of collecting and sorting goods from the surrounding communities.
But the two had left on a journey together. Originally, it was just supposed to be Col, but wild-hearted Myuri apparently secreted herself into his luggage. Holo would tease Lawrence for being overly protective, but he thought it was normal to worry. And what's more, though her partner was Col, she was still traveling alone with a boy!
"If only our two younglings were still around..."
There were many meanings in the words he uttered, but she chose to interpret a good one.
"Well, you have been sagging lately. Perhaps some labor will do you good, as well."
She said this while poking his side.
He thought that the dignified look of a fat chin and a big belly suited the master of a bathhouse, but Holo was not fond of that, so he always ate and drank in moderation. The most he did to cultivate his poise as a master was grow his beard out a bit.
"That's true, but if they don't come back for the time being, today I realized it really is a problem if we don't hire more people. When the customers start coming again, there's no way I'd be able to run the bathhouse by myself." Lawrence also added, "That includes your mending and Hanna, our resident cook's work."
He had not forgotten that gratitude was the key to a happy marriage. Holo snorted, as though saying, Very well.
"Shall I suggest going down to town soon, then? You may hire anyone you need there, since 'tis full of people."
"That's true, but can I find someone that's as excellent a worker as Col?"
He sighed, and Holo gave him an exasperated look.
"Wheat does not bear its fruits immediately."
"Hmm?" He looked back at her and finally understood what she was trying to say. "Bring them up with your own hands, you mean."
"Mm. You don't know how hard I've worked."
She looked at him intently, and all he could do was smile wryly. There were definitely many parts of him that were the result of Holo's help.
"Well, you too, have become a proper male."
She looked up at him and smiled proudly.
She could say anything to him with that smile.
"But we still have you, so I can't just hire anyone."
He could feel Holo's body shrink a bit when he sighed.
It was a bit rough for Holo to live in a human village, since she was not human and did not age.
Now, the woman named Hanna, who helped out at Lawrence's bathhouse, was unaware of the full details, but they had convinced her that Holo was the incarnation of a bird or something similar. Col was genuinely a normal human, but they had traveled together in the past and knew Holo's true form. As for their daughter Myuri, it went without saying.
They needed to hire someone that would not be shaken by this fact and willing to keep the secret, or maybe someone who was not human at all.
"I can ask Millike."
That was an influential name in Svernel and, at the same time, one of the few who knew Holo's identity.
He was also not human and was a reliable person they could consult with on these problems.
"If we can't find anyone even then...it might be good if we stretch out a bit further."
"Stretch, you say?"
"Yeah. We've been holed up in the mountains for quite a while now. Even I'm surprised."


Instruction: Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can.

Input:
"But...," Lawrence murmured. "Even with what you've already done, I feel like I need more."
"Hmm?"
A reason that work was so busy today was that there were few young folk to take over the chores.
Kalm, whose father Cyrus was also a bathhouse master and rather close with Lawrence, came over to help, but even then it was hectic.
As he counted and weighed the masses of coins, he could not count how many times he wished that Col was still around, since he had set out to travel a bit earlier. He also thought about how his daughter Myuri could have taken care of collecting and sorting goods from the surrounding communities.
But the two had left on a journey together. Originally, it was just supposed to be Col, but wild-hearted Myuri apparently secreted herself into his luggage. Holo would tease Lawrence for being overly protective, but he thought it was normal to worry. And what's more, though her partner was Col, she was still traveling alone with a boy!
"If only our two younglings were still around..."
There were many meanings in the words he uttered, but she chose to interpret a good one.
"Well, you have been sagging lately. Perhaps some labor will do you good, as well."
She said this while poking his side.
He thought that the dignified look of a fat chin and a big belly suited the master of a bathhouse, but Holo was not fond of that, so he always ate and drank in moderation. The most he did to cultivate his poise as a master was grow his beard out a bit.
"That's true, but if they don't come back for the time being, today I realized it really is a problem if we don't hire more people. When the customers start coming again, there's no way I'd be able to run the bathhouse by myself." Lawrence also added, "That includes your mending and Hanna, our resident cook's work."
He had not forgotten that gratitude was the key to a happy marriage. Holo snorted, as though saying, Very well.
"Shall I suggest going down to town soon, then? You may hire anyone you need there, since 'tis full of people."
"That's true, but can I find someone that's as excellent a worker as Col?"
He sighed, and Holo gave him an exasperated look.
"Wheat does not bear its fruits immediately."
"Hmm?" He looked back at her and finally understood what she was trying to say. "Bring them up with your own hands, you mean."
"Mm. You don't know how hard I've worked."
She looked at him intently, and all he could do was smile wryly. There were definitely many parts of him that were the result of Holo's help.
"Well, you too, have become a proper male."
She looked up at him and smiled proudly.
She could say anything to him with that smile.
"But we still have you, so I can't just hire anyone."
He could feel Holo's body shrink a bit when he sighed.
It was a bit rough for Holo to live in a human village, since she was not human and did not age.
Now, the woman named Hanna, who helped out at Lawrence's bathhouse, was unaware of the full details, but they had convinced her that Holo was the incarnation of a bird or something similar. Col was genuinely a normal human, but they had traveled together in the past and knew Holo's true form. As for their daughter Myuri, it went without saying.
They needed to hire someone that would not be shaken by this fact and willing to keep the secret, or maybe someone who was not human at all.
"I can ask Millike."
That was an influential name in Svernel and, at the same time, one of the few who knew Holo's identity.
He was also not human and was a reliable person they could consult with on these problems.
"If we can't find anyone even then...it might be good if we stretch out a bit further."
"Stretch, you say?"
"Yeah. We've been holed up in the mountains for quite a while now. Even I'm surprised."

Output:
But at some point, the part of him that proudly said, In return, I get to see most of the world, disappeared, and he entirely isolated himself from the world beyond the mountain.
However, he never felt trapped. Rather, he was quite happy.
"I walked around so much that you would tease me and call me a dog. But now I stay put even more than the hemp cloth in the shed."
Lawrence turned back, a short while after they had left the meeting hall, and at the bottom of the gentle slope, he could see the large building and the shed that sat next to it.
"Can you believe this? I heard that in Svernel at the foot of the mountain, hemp cloths are flying off the shelves. But some of the cloth isn't used there and instead sold in another town. They say they travel like that, down the river, before finally reaching the ocean."
"The ocean?"
On their journey over ten years ago, he had sailed the ocean with Holo, and near their travels' end, they made a side trip to the beach in summertime. Holo, hearing about the ocean, of which she had little connection to, looked off distantly.
"The world is at peace, and trade is booming. People have started thinking lugging their goods across land isn't good enough anymore, so they are building an incredible number of boats now. And apparently some hemp from our village transforms into the sails on some of those boats. And then, filled with wind, they'll face the endless ocean that I've only ever heard about in stories."
Riding on the hopes of many people, that cloth would go through endless journeys. Instead of snow as far as the eye could see, maybe it would wind up in a country where scorching sand piled high like mountains. There, the ship's hold would fill up with fragrant spices, gold, and exotic fruits before heading home. It was a risky business that could mean great riches if the traders returned safely or losing everything if something went wrong on the way.
Beyond the sky Lawrence looked up at every morning as he cleaned the front of the bathhouse, wondering how the weather would be that day, lay such a world. And now, that world rocked as it faced a new era.
Long ago, he would not be able to sit still knowing that.
"It might be good to take a whiff of adventure every once in a while."
That way, Lawrence could restore his vigor and reapply himself to work hard at running the bathhouse. It would even be perfect if he could find outstanding staff to work at the house. Lawrence merely entertained the idea, but Holo took it in a different way.
He realized this after working for a few days, when he was about to travel to Svernel.
Under the blinding sunlight, he checked to make sure he had all the cargo he needed to go to town, and confirmed with the other masters the contents of their purchases. When all the little preparations were squared away, at last he hooked the horse to the wagon when someone pulled themselves up onto the driver's perch.
Though she was supposed to stay and look after the bathhouse, there was Holo, dressed for travel.
"...What's wrong?"
His voice faltered as he asked, only because Holo, who sat on the perch, wore a terrifying expression on her face.
"Nothing." Holo responded flatly, and she stared down at him. "'Twould be a pain should a fool like you lose your way."
***
Lawrence stared back at her blankly before he realized what was going on.
Long ago, Holo left her homeland of Yoitsu and could not go home for hundreds of years. During that time, her homeland had been swallowed up by the changing era, and the ones she once called companions had vanished. To Holo, who would live hundreds of years, she could not stand the possibility of someone going off somewhere and for that to be their eternal parting.
When Lawrence thought this, he regretted his carelessness from a few days ago, suggesting they stretch and travel a bit.


Instruction: Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can.

Input:
But at some point, the part of him that proudly said, In return, I get to see most of the world, disappeared, and he entirely isolated himself from the world beyond the mountain.
However, he never felt trapped. Rather, he was quite happy.
"I walked around so much that you would tease me and call me a dog. But now I stay put even more than the hemp cloth in the shed."
Lawrence turned back, a short while after they had left the meeting hall, and at the bottom of the gentle slope, he could see the large building and the shed that sat next to it.
"Can you believe this? I heard that in Svernel at the foot of the mountain, hemp cloths are flying off the shelves. But some of the cloth isn't used there and instead sold in another town. They say they travel like that, down the river, before finally reaching the ocean."
"The ocean?"
On their journey over ten years ago, he had sailed the ocean with Holo, and near their travels' end, they made a side trip to the beach in summertime. Holo, hearing about the ocean, of which she had little connection to, looked off distantly.
"The world is at peace, and trade is booming. People have started thinking lugging their goods across land isn't good enough anymore, so they are building an incredible number of boats now. And apparently some hemp from our village transforms into the sails on some of those boats. And then, filled with wind, they'll face the endless ocean that I've only ever heard about in stories."
Riding on the hopes of many people, that cloth would go through endless journeys. Instead of snow as far as the eye could see, maybe it would wind up in a country where scorching sand piled high like mountains. There, the ship's hold would fill up with fragrant spices, gold, and exotic fruits before heading home. It was a risky business that could mean great riches if the traders returned safely or losing everything if something went wrong on the way.
Beyond the sky Lawrence looked up at every morning as he cleaned the front of the bathhouse, wondering how the weather would be that day, lay such a world. And now, that world rocked as it faced a new era.
Long ago, he would not be able to sit still knowing that.
"It might be good to take a whiff of adventure every once in a while."
That way, Lawrence could restore his vigor and reapply himself to work hard at running the bathhouse. It would even be perfect if he could find outstanding staff to work at the house. Lawrence merely entertained the idea, but Holo took it in a different way.
He realized this after working for a few days, when he was about to travel to Svernel.
Under the blinding sunlight, he checked to make sure he had all the cargo he needed to go to town, and confirmed with the other masters the contents of their purchases. When all the little preparations were squared away, at last he hooked the horse to the wagon when someone pulled themselves up onto the driver's perch.
Though she was supposed to stay and look after the bathhouse, there was Holo, dressed for travel.
"...What's wrong?"
His voice faltered as he asked, only because Holo, who sat on the perch, wore a terrifying expression on her face.
"Nothing." Holo responded flatly, and she stared down at him. "'Twould be a pain should a fool like you lose your way."
***
Lawrence stared back at her blankly before he realized what was going on.
Long ago, Holo left her homeland of Yoitsu and could not go home for hundreds of years. During that time, her homeland had been swallowed up by the changing era, and the ones she once called companions had vanished. To Holo, who would live hundreds of years, she could not stand the possibility of someone going off somewhere and for that to be their eternal parting.
When Lawrence thought this, he regretted his carelessness from a few days ago, suggesting they stretch and travel a bit.

Output:
She simply might have wanted to come along since staying behind to watch the house was surprisingly lonely.
"I, too..."
Holo spoke suddenly, as Lawrence was gathering how she felt.
"...Fancy the delicious foods in town."
She spoke with a pout on her face, so he left it at that.
He greeted the other bathhouse masters, who stared in surprise at Holo sitting on the cart, then briskly finished his preparations and led the wagon outside. Though the sunshine was like that of a spring sun, snow still lay thick around the mountains surrounding Nyohhira.
"Keep it warm for me."
He turned to Holo as he spoke, and she faced the other way, huffing. That brought back memories of old times together. It was when the wagon bed had been filled with Holo's favorite apples, so many they could not finish them all.
Lawrence jumped onto the driver's box and, in high spirits, gripped the reins.
On the road to Svernel, they had to stop and stay one night each at an inn, then a small settlement, making it roughly a three-day journey. Though it would be faster to take a boat on the river that flowed from the village outskirts, it was wise not to use it during this season. The melted snow raised the river's water level, and it was currently used to transport harvested lumber down from the mountains, so it would not be a cozy boat ride at all.
As they traveled the mountain paths, he could see the logs floating along whenever he caught a glimpse of the river beyond the trees. According to the woodcutters that came and used their baths, timber had been selling rapidly these past few years, and most, though not all, was used to make boats. And some of those boats would sail untold distances across the sea.
Lawrence was proud to think that long ago, he worked as a part of the trade network that blanketed the land. But now, he could not imagine going back to that world.
"What?"
Holo sat next to Lawrence, working hard at her mending, and noticing his gaze, she peered up.
"Oh, nothing. You look good is all."
Holo was not dressed as a traveling nun the way she had long ago. She wore a plain, wool-woven hood over her head, and from it hung her roughly braided hair. On her shoulders she wore a shawl that had the barest embroidery in the corner—she seemed proper and modest. Since she looked young, if she behaved herself, she seemed like an innocent, meek young bride.
She sat next to him, dressed like this, working on the mending, so there was no need to foul her mood.
And there was no more reason for him to go to the ends of the earth searching for treasure.
"You...hmm. 'Tis not bad."
Lawrence had not held reins in quite a while, so Holo's evaluation was quite forgiving, considering how awkwardly he managed the horse. The weather was pleasant, so she seemed to be in a good mood as well.
"And we shall see your capacity as a male once we've reached the town, aye?"
She narrowed her eyes, and her mouth twisted into a mischievous smile.
Even Lawrence knew she would say that. There was a reason they brought down the coins Nyohhira collected during the winter at this time of year.
That was because they held a big spring festival in town, so people gathered, trade bustled, and everyone soon ran out of coins. Without hard currency, they could not do business. Supplying the town at this time with coin relied on the basic concept of bringing goods to places that needed them and selling for a high price.
And at the same time, he need not ask what the wolf, the gourmet, would want in a town at the height of festivities.
"I don't mind. You can ask for whatever food you like."
"Oh?"
Lawrence spoke to Holo, who seemed surprised, not expecting him to be so generous.
"I know you're really taking our finances into consideration."
He gave her his merchant's smile, and she pulled back, glaring at him.
"You are quite sassy in old age."
"It's all thanks to the great wisewolf's discipline."


Instruction: Given first part of the popular LightNovel spice and wolf as input, continue the story the best you can.

Input:
She simply might have wanted to come along since staying behind to watch the house was surprisingly lonely.
"I, too..."
Holo spoke suddenly, as Lawrence was gathering how she felt.
"...Fancy the delicious foods in town."
She spoke with a pout on her face, so he left it at that.
He greeted the other bathhouse masters, who stared in surprise at Holo sitting on the cart, then briskly finished his preparations and led the wagon outside. Though the sunshine was like that of a spring sun, snow still lay thick around the mountains surrounding Nyohhira.
"Keep it warm for me."
He turned to Holo as he spoke, and she faced the other way, huffing. That brought back memories of old times together. It was when the wagon bed had been filled with Holo's favorite apples, so many they could not finish them all.
Lawrence jumped onto the driver's box and, in high spirits, gripped the reins.
On the road to Svernel, they had to stop and stay one night each at an inn, then a small settlement, making it roughly a three-day journey. Though it would be faster to take a boat on the river that flowed from the village outskirts, it was wise not to use it during this season. The melted snow raised the river's water level, and it was currently used to transport harvested lumber down from the mountains, so it would not be a cozy boat ride at all.
As they traveled the mountain paths, he could see the logs floating along whenever he caught a glimpse of the river beyond the trees. According to the woodcutters that came and used their baths, timber had been selling rapidly these past few years, and most, though not all, was used to make boats. And some of those boats would sail untold distances across the sea.
Lawrence was proud to think that long ago, he worked as a part of the trade network that blanketed the land. But now, he could not imagine going back to that world.
"What?"
Holo sat next to Lawrence, working hard at her mending, and noticing his gaze, she peered up.
"Oh, nothing. You look good is all."
Holo was not dressed as a traveling nun the way she had long ago. She wore a plain, wool-woven hood over her head, and from it hung her roughly braided hair. On her shoulders she wore a shawl that had the barest embroidery in the corner—she seemed proper and modest. Since she looked young, if she behaved herself, she seemed like an innocent, meek young bride.
She sat next to him, dressed like this, working on the mending, so there was no need to foul her mood.
And there was no more reason for him to go to the ends of the earth searching for treasure.
"You...hmm. 'Tis not bad."
Lawrence had not held reins in quite a while, so Holo's evaluation was quite forgiving, considering how awkwardly he managed the horse. The weather was pleasant, so she seemed to be in a good mood as well.
"And we shall see your capacity as a male once we've reached the town, aye?"
She narrowed her eyes, and her mouth twisted into a mischievous smile.
Even Lawrence knew she would say that. There was a reason they brought down the coins Nyohhira collected during the winter at this time of year.
That was because they held a big spring festival in town, so people gathered, trade bustled, and everyone soon ran out of coins. Without hard currency, they could not do business. Supplying the town at this time with coin relied on the basic concept of bringing goods to places that needed them and selling for a high price.
And at the same time, he need not ask what the wolf, the gourmet, would want in a town at the height of festivities.
"I don't mind. You can ask for whatever food you like."
"Oh?"
Lawrence spoke to Holo, who seemed surprised, not expecting him to be so generous.
"I know you're really taking our finances into consideration."
He gave her his merchant's smile, and she pulled back, glaring at him.
"You are quite sassy in old age."
"It's all thanks to the great wisewolf's discipline."

Output:
The horse pulling the wagon swished its tail, as though telling them to take it elsewhere.
"We still have a heap of things to deal with, though. Don't be pouty if I can't entertain you in town."
"I am not unreasonable, like Myuri."
Their daughter Myuri's unreasonable nature suited her, but Lawrence believed that part of her personality came from Holo.
Lawrence looked at her with the same look as before, and she stomped on his foot again. This time, it was stronger.
"Hmph. 'Tis not even all that much. Sell the goods in the back, buy things for the village, and then look for workers."
"Just looking for workers might take a while...And there's still more."
"Hmm?"
She gazed at him doubtfully in response. She was likely checking to see if his head was filled with schemes to turn a quick profit. On their journey over ten years ago, that was often the source of all their biggest, rowdiest adventures.
"The whole town is busy preparing for the festival. It's a custom for Nyohhira to help with the preparations in exchange for the town's money changer association buying all the village's goods at once. So I'll probably be busy with that during the festival."
"Hmm."
Nyohhira was wholly reliant on Svernel for the distribution of their goods, so it was a give-and-take relationship.
"So what will you help with during the festival?"
"I don't know all the details...but I'm sure there are several jobs. I've heard that it's been quite a lively festival these past few years."
"I know that. 'Tis why I wished to see it with you..."
Holo spoke dejectedly. She was craftily letting her adorably true feelings show.
"And this time, there's one more important job."
Holo, who had her lips pursed in boredom, looked up expectantly.
"I have to find out more about the people who might be building a new hot spring town on the other side of the mountain."
That was the most shocking information that spread this winter in Nyohhira.
He knew nothing about the details, but traveling merchants told the village about this rumor.
Though it would be on the other mountainside, most roads in this area led to Svernel, so they would end up fighting over customers. And of course, they would likely get their food, drink, and other necessities from Svernel, so prices would rise accordingly.
He had to confirm whether the rumors were true or not.
"So I'm going to be very busy in town."
As Lawrence declared his intentions, Holo hunched over, resting her chin in her hand and sighing.
"At the very least, don't trip as you run around so much."
"What, you're not going to help? It might spell danger for our bathhouse and Nyohhira itself."
The villagers saw Lawrence as one of their own, since they entrusted him with bringing the coins down to town during this season, and he was so overjoyed, he became overeager. He spoke pointedly, and Holo looked at him with uncertain eyes.
"Well then, shall I discover where they are digging holes for their baths, then cover them up, burying those people with it?"
When Holo spoke, Lawrence flinched. Sitting there was the wolf's avatar, a being that held more power than humans knew.
Holo once again sighed at Lawrence's response and reached out to pinch his beard.
"You, still, cannot, forget, playing, the, merchant, prince, still? Hmm?"
"Ow, stop, ouch, hey—"
She pulled his beard, moving his face side to side.
"Hmph. Whoever they may be, we shall always be ready, making our guests happy as we always do. Should that be enough, they will come. If not, then they will go there. Is that not correct?"
She let go of his beard, and Lawrence looked at her again, rubbing his chin.
The centuries-old wisewolf had appeared.
"Well, that's true..."
"Very well, then."
Her mood completely changed, and she drew close to Lawrence.
"Once the bathhouse empties out, won't you spend more time with me? Our troublesome Myuri has left on her travels, you know."
***
There was a sweet seduction that accompanied her decadent invitation.