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

Input:
It was an ideal situation; one in which all parties profited.
"I'm glad you understand. That will make this easier to explain. It's as you've said. The reason I contented myself with the thin margins I made by selling statues was because I was counting on the bishop here to become an archbishop. But then—"
Lawrence could not tell whether the edge that crept into Eve's voice was an act or a result of her suppressed anger.
But so far all the facts fit; Eve's story was all too plausible.
"As the bishop profited from his deal with me and solidified his position, people around him started to divine what his goal was, and the bishop set about eliminating obstacles. The current affair was just a convenient excuse for him to cut me off. He owed me. He probably thought that the longer I was around, the more unfavorable demands I would make of him. And of course, I had planned to do exactly that. It was my right. But he decided he'd rather deal with an already-established trade firm instead of a single merchant just trying to establish herself. Even I can understand the reasoning, but that doesn't mean I agree with it."
Lawrence mused to himself that anger burned as visibly as any flame.
"So we argued, and we split," finished Eve.
Sitting next to Lawrence, Holo was so quiet that it was easy to forget she was there.
Lawrence went over Eve's story again in his head.
It seemed to be entirely consistent. So consistent, in fact, that it made him suspicious.
If it was a lie, it was a good enough one that he almost wouldn't mind working with her anyway.
"I see. So that's what made it hard for you to turn your statues into cash and why you can't very well just wait for next year's northern campaign."
Eve's silence beneath her cowl contrasted starkly with her previous garrulity.
Lawrence took a slow, quiet breath.
He closed his eyes.
If he was going to doubt even this consistent of a story, any other deal would be difficult as well.
On the other hand, he might just be fooling himself.
Only merchants, constantly scheming and being schemed upon, had to worry about such things.
"Understood," he said, exhaling the breath he had been holding.
He noticed Eve's shoulders move ever so slightly.
He was confident that this wasn't an act on her part.
No merchant was capable of remaining completely expressionless in such moments.
"Let's discuss the particulars of the deal," he finished.
"...Yes, let's."
Lawrence got the sense that in the shadow of her cowl, Eve smiled.
She extended her hand.
Lawrence took it; it was trembling ever so slightly.
Subsequently, Lawrence and Eve with Holo in tow ventured out into the town.
Their expedition was not to celebrate their newly established contract. Merchants do not celebrate anything until profit is in their hands.
There was no way of knowing exactly when the Council of Fifty would make their decision public and unleash the rush of merchants trying to monopolize the fur trade, so they needed to secure the necessary cash as quickly as possible.
So out into the town they went to call upon the trading firm that would lend them the money with Holo as collateral.
The trading firm was called the Delink Company.
Though it was situated conveniently close to the port, the building was rather small and had no loading dock.
The only thing that identified it as a trading company was a small flag hanging unobtrusively in the doorway.
However, the building's stone construction was so fine that not even a single hair could slip between the stones, and though it was fully five stories tall, it did not seem to lean against the adjoining buildings.
As Lawrence examined the flag more closely, which was dimly lit by the flickering light of an oil lamp, he could see that it was an embroidered piece of the highest quality. Set against mist-gray stones, it gave the trading house the presence of a small giant, not some come-lately business.
Lawrence wondered if this company's approach to publicity was different from other houses'.

Output:
Merchants who dealt with different goods had widely varying customs.
Four men from the Delink Company came out to greet Lawrence and his entourage, each of them dressed fit to represent their company, not a one of them standing out among the others.
Lawrence had heard that groups dealing in human commodities always had multiple people judge the quality of their goods. These four were no doubt the managers of the company.
"I am Kraft Lawrence."
Lawrence shook hands with Eringin.
The man's hands were strangely soft, and a vague smile stuck to his face, making it impossible to tell what he was thinking.
Sheep merchants had loud voices like a barking dog. So was this the smile of a slave trader?
Holo shook hands with him next, and his eyes as he regarded her were reptilian—a lizard's or a snake's.
Eve removed her cowl but exchanged no particular greetings. Perhaps this firm had brokered the deal when she had been sold to that newly rich merchant.
"Do have a seat," invited Eringin, and they all sat on felt-covered chairs, fine ones, stuffed with cotton. "I have already heard the particulars from the honorable head of the Bolan house."
"So let's not waste time with empty chitchat," he seemed to be saying.
Lawrence had no intention of negotiating the price. He knew nothing about the market for young noble girls.
"I would ask you one thing," said Eringin. "I have heard that you, Mr. Lawrence, are a member of the Rowen Trade Guild?"
The three men behind Eringin stood there without so much as twitching, staring at Lawrence.
While none of them wore any particular expression, they collectively gave off an aura that was altogether unsettling.
Even Lawrence, well used to signing contracts, felt the pressure.
Perhaps it was a technique of theirs; having been sold off to this company, one would have a hard time lying to them.
"Yes," answered Lawrence briefly, and the oppressive aura of the three men immediately vanished.
It seemed they truly had been trying to wring the truth out of him.
"Rowen, then. I do believe Lord Goldens has dealt with you many times. Perhaps it was he from whom I heard yours is a keen-eyed guild."
Lawrence couldn't help being unsettled at the mention of one of the guild's central figures—even though he knew Eringin brought it up to make Lawrence feel as though escape was impossible.
"If you're attached to such a guild, you're a man to be reckoned with indeed, and your companion is a girl from the nobility. Now, if I might explain what the four of us have decided."
Eve said she wanted 2,500 pieces.
Eringin's affected smile widened.
In any world, it was those with money who were strong.
"Two thousand pieces of trenni silver."
It fell short of the goal, but with two thousand in their war chest, the plan would yield incredible success.
It was all Lawrence could manage not to broadcast the way the strength drained from his nervous body. Eve seemed to be doing likewise.
She forced her face to be expressionless.
"Ms. Eve proposed 2,500, but we're unable to deal in that amount with individual merchants. This is for that...fur business that's going around, is it not? Thus, in exchange, we will waive our standard commission and lend you the full amount. But as we do not have that much silver on hand at the moment, the remittance will be in the form of sixty gold lumione."
A single piece of lumione gold was worth roughly thirty trenni. Lawrence wasn't sure of the details of Lenos's marketplace, but when used in exchange for goods besides other currencies, the lumione possessed a singular might.
Depending on the circumstances, it might garner significantly more fur than two thousand trenni would have.
But what surprised Lawrence even more was the fact that they were willing to lend the lump sum.
The mere possession of high-value coins held value. Gold or silver currency was a versatile asset that could be melted down if necessary and was far superior to records of money on paper.


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

Input:
Merchants who dealt with different goods had widely varying customs.
Four men from the Delink Company came out to greet Lawrence and his entourage, each of them dressed fit to represent their company, not a one of them standing out among the others.
Lawrence had heard that groups dealing in human commodities always had multiple people judge the quality of their goods. These four were no doubt the managers of the company.
"I am Kraft Lawrence."
Lawrence shook hands with Eringin.
The man's hands were strangely soft, and a vague smile stuck to his face, making it impossible to tell what he was thinking.
Sheep merchants had loud voices like a barking dog. So was this the smile of a slave trader?
Holo shook hands with him next, and his eyes as he regarded her were reptilian—a lizard's or a snake's.
Eve removed her cowl but exchanged no particular greetings. Perhaps this firm had brokered the deal when she had been sold to that newly rich merchant.
"Do have a seat," invited Eringin, and they all sat on felt-covered chairs, fine ones, stuffed with cotton. "I have already heard the particulars from the honorable head of the Bolan house."
"So let's not waste time with empty chitchat," he seemed to be saying.
Lawrence had no intention of negotiating the price. He knew nothing about the market for young noble girls.
"I would ask you one thing," said Eringin. "I have heard that you, Mr. Lawrence, are a member of the Rowen Trade Guild?"
The three men behind Eringin stood there without so much as twitching, staring at Lawrence.
While none of them wore any particular expression, they collectively gave off an aura that was altogether unsettling.
Even Lawrence, well used to signing contracts, felt the pressure.
Perhaps it was a technique of theirs; having been sold off to this company, one would have a hard time lying to them.
"Yes," answered Lawrence briefly, and the oppressive aura of the three men immediately vanished.
It seemed they truly had been trying to wring the truth out of him.
"Rowen, then. I do believe Lord Goldens has dealt with you many times. Perhaps it was he from whom I heard yours is a keen-eyed guild."
Lawrence couldn't help being unsettled at the mention of one of the guild's central figures—even though he knew Eringin brought it up to make Lawrence feel as though escape was impossible.
"If you're attached to such a guild, you're a man to be reckoned with indeed, and your companion is a girl from the nobility. Now, if I might explain what the four of us have decided."
Eve said she wanted 2,500 pieces.
Eringin's affected smile widened.
In any world, it was those with money who were strong.
"Two thousand pieces of trenni silver."
It fell short of the goal, but with two thousand in their war chest, the plan would yield incredible success.
It was all Lawrence could manage not to broadcast the way the strength drained from his nervous body. Eve seemed to be doing likewise.
She forced her face to be expressionless.
"Ms. Eve proposed 2,500, but we're unable to deal in that amount with individual merchants. This is for that...fur business that's going around, is it not? Thus, in exchange, we will waive our standard commission and lend you the full amount. But as we do not have that much silver on hand at the moment, the remittance will be in the form of sixty gold lumione."
A single piece of lumione gold was worth roughly thirty trenni. Lawrence wasn't sure of the details of Lenos's marketplace, but when used in exchange for goods besides other currencies, the lumione possessed a singular might.
Depending on the circumstances, it might garner significantly more fur than two thousand trenni would have.
But what surprised Lawrence even more was the fact that they were willing to lend the lump sum.
The mere possession of high-value coins held value. Gold or silver currency was a versatile asset that could be melted down if necessary and was far superior to records of money on paper.

Output:
But not this time.
"That's generous of you," murmured Eve.
"This is an investment," said Eringin, deepening his smile. "You're a clever person. You've managed to pull profit from the state and arrangement of this town. There is little doubt you will use this success to reach still greater heights, and we wish to share that good luck. And"—he turned to Lawrence—"you are a fortunate man. It was nothing less than good fortune that led you two to meet. And you are not losing yourself to excitement about a deal this large. We believe this is because you've become accustomed to good luck. In our business, the element of fortune is a very important one. Unless one is accustomed to such fortune, one can make mistakes. On that count, we trust you."
Even as Lawrence admired the man's method of estimating value, it did not escape him that the only thing being praised about him was his good luck.
He tried to decide whether to feel pleased or aggrieved and suddenly got the sense that beside him, Holo was snickering at his expense.
"Our job is not unlike prospecting for a gold mine. To find partners, we won't shrink away from investing some money."
"So, how are we to accept the money that will silence so many wagging tongues?"
Eringin smiled at Eve's question, and for the first time, he seemed sincere. "You'll be buying up fur from the Arkieh Company, correct? You certainly have a good eye. I would love for you to tell us your secret—"
"My voice is a bit hoarse these days. Makes it hard to talk," said Eve.
It did not sound like a joke. Eve's words were hard, and Eringin's words were sly and menacing, like a snake.
It was a strange conversation, different from any Lawrence had experienced before.
Of course, there was no need for negotiating parties to get along particularly well, but basic human courtesy was lacking between these two.
As long as they made their money, each cared not one whit for the other's welfare.
It was as obvious as air.
"The transaction? That will be at your preference."
"What do you want to do?" Eve asked, looking at Lawrence for the first time.
They hadn't conferred ahead of time, so Lawrence said what came to mind.
"'Tis hard to sleep with such brightly glittering coins lighting the darkness." It was Holo's presence next to him that helped him straighten up a bit and manage a thin smile.
Eringin made an impressed face, then smiled, shrugging. "A memorable answer! As one handles larger and large amounts of money, one's pride rises as well. Such freedom makes it easy to become haughty and sarcastic. But your words, modest yet incisive—that is true freedom. We must all learn from your example."
Did Eringin handle such terrifying amounts of money on a daily basis? Even the service charge on two thousand silver pieces would be a significant sum, but he had waived it without a second thought.
When a merchant rose in the world, was this what awaited?
"Well then, shall we remit it to you immediately before you go to buy up your fur?"
Wondering what Eve was thinking, Lawrence didn't immediately answer in order to give her a chance to speak up if she chose—but ultimately, she said nothing.
"Yes, if you please," said Lawrence.
"Very well." Eringin extended his hand to shake.
Lawrence accepted it. The handshake was ever so slightly stronger than the one that had preceded it.
Instead of turning to Holo, Eringin faced Eve and offered his hand, which Eve accepted. Despite the sharp negotiations, it seemed there remained the barest hint of civility.
"Let us pray for a successful transaction," said Eringin, closing his eyes, though it did not seem as though he believed in any sort of god.
There was something divine about that spirit, that merchant's spirit that pursued profit above all else and trampled any god in its path.
"An unpleasant man," declared Eve as they left the trading house after having signed various papers.
Her words brimmed with such feeling that Lawrence found this a bit unusual.


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

Input:
But not this time.
"That's generous of you," murmured Eve.
"This is an investment," said Eringin, deepening his smile. "You're a clever person. You've managed to pull profit from the state and arrangement of this town. There is little doubt you will use this success to reach still greater heights, and we wish to share that good luck. And"—he turned to Lawrence—"you are a fortunate man. It was nothing less than good fortune that led you two to meet. And you are not losing yourself to excitement about a deal this large. We believe this is because you've become accustomed to good luck. In our business, the element of fortune is a very important one. Unless one is accustomed to such fortune, one can make mistakes. On that count, we trust you."
Even as Lawrence admired the man's method of estimating value, it did not escape him that the only thing being praised about him was his good luck.
He tried to decide whether to feel pleased or aggrieved and suddenly got the sense that beside him, Holo was snickering at his expense.
"Our job is not unlike prospecting for a gold mine. To find partners, we won't shrink away from investing some money."
"So, how are we to accept the money that will silence so many wagging tongues?"
Eringin smiled at Eve's question, and for the first time, he seemed sincere. "You'll be buying up fur from the Arkieh Company, correct? You certainly have a good eye. I would love for you to tell us your secret—"
"My voice is a bit hoarse these days. Makes it hard to talk," said Eve.
It did not sound like a joke. Eve's words were hard, and Eringin's words were sly and menacing, like a snake.
It was a strange conversation, different from any Lawrence had experienced before.
Of course, there was no need for negotiating parties to get along particularly well, but basic human courtesy was lacking between these two.
As long as they made their money, each cared not one whit for the other's welfare.
It was as obvious as air.
"The transaction? That will be at your preference."
"What do you want to do?" Eve asked, looking at Lawrence for the first time.
They hadn't conferred ahead of time, so Lawrence said what came to mind.
"'Tis hard to sleep with such brightly glittering coins lighting the darkness." It was Holo's presence next to him that helped him straighten up a bit and manage a thin smile.
Eringin made an impressed face, then smiled, shrugging. "A memorable answer! As one handles larger and large amounts of money, one's pride rises as well. Such freedom makes it easy to become haughty and sarcastic. But your words, modest yet incisive—that is true freedom. We must all learn from your example."
Did Eringin handle such terrifying amounts of money on a daily basis? Even the service charge on two thousand silver pieces would be a significant sum, but he had waived it without a second thought.
When a merchant rose in the world, was this what awaited?
"Well then, shall we remit it to you immediately before you go to buy up your fur?"
Wondering what Eve was thinking, Lawrence didn't immediately answer in order to give her a chance to speak up if she chose—but ultimately, she said nothing.
"Yes, if you please," said Lawrence.
"Very well." Eringin extended his hand to shake.
Lawrence accepted it. The handshake was ever so slightly stronger than the one that had preceded it.
Instead of turning to Holo, Eringin faced Eve and offered his hand, which Eve accepted. Despite the sharp negotiations, it seemed there remained the barest hint of civility.
"Let us pray for a successful transaction," said Eringin, closing his eyes, though it did not seem as though he believed in any sort of god.
There was something divine about that spirit, that merchant's spirit that pursued profit above all else and trampled any god in its path.
"An unpleasant man," declared Eve as they left the trading house after having signed various papers.
Her words brimmed with such feeling that Lawrence found this a bit unusual.

Output:
"...Do you really think so?" asked Eve.
"Yes. Here I struggle to make a few hundred silver pieces, but now I've seen an entirely different level."
"And yet you managed to have quite the wit with him."
"Oh, that business about the gold coins?"
Eve nodded and began to slowly walk.
Lawrence took Holo's hand and followed his new partner. Holo seemed to have perfectly understood the role she was to play and had been obediently silent the entire time. When Lawrence took her hand, though, he noticed it was hot.
She must not have liked Eringin's gaze, either.
"It was quite refreshing to hear such wit," said Eve. "You threw Eringin off balance. He won't underestimate a traveling merchant again."
"I'm honored," answered Lawrence. He heard Eve's rough laugh.
"Are you sure you're not the son of some wealthy merchant house?"
"There are evenings when I feel like that."
"I give up," murmured Eve, and for once, the eyes beneath her cowl were not harsh as she spoke. "Are you not thirsty after such speech?"
They hadn't completed the entire deal, but the first barrier had been overcome.
Lawrence was not so dry as to disagree.
Even after nightfall, there were many stalls still selling liquor near the docks.
Lawrence ordered three cups of wine, and the three of them sat on discarded packing crates nearby.
"Here's to success," said Eve, raising her cup in a toast.
The three of them merely pretended to bump their chipped wooden cups together before drinking the wine.
"I suppose it's a bit late to be asking this—," started Eve.
"What's that?"
"Where did you pick up your companion?"
"Wha—?"
Lawrence was unable to conceal his surprise but not because he was relaxing after tense negotiations.
It was simply because he had never expected Eve to care about such things.
"Is it that odd for me to ask?" inquired Eve with a rueful grin. Thankfully, Holo merely held her earthen cup in both hands and said nothing. "I did say I wouldn't pry, but I am curious."
"Yes, well...people often ask."
"So where did you pick her up? I won't be surprised if you tell me she's the daughter of some rich landlord, overthrown in a peasant uprising."
It was the kind of joke that could only have come from Eve, herself being fallen nobility, but even so it was surprising. Lawrence heard a faint swishing sound coming from Holo's back, and ever so casually, he stepped on her foot.
"Evidently she was born in the north. She lived for a long time in the wheat fields of the south."
"Oh?"
"I'd done many deals in a town in the area, so I stopped in on my travels to see a friend, but then she snuck into my wagon bed."
Thinking back to that time, Lawrence realized Holo had been snuggled in among the furs he'd been hauling at the time.
Perhaps her tail gave her some kind of strange connection to fur.
"She said she wanted to return to her homeland, and after various twists and turns, I wound up acting as her escort."
It was a simple story to relate. There were no lies. Holo nodded, and Eve took a sip of her wine.
"Sounds like an encounter dreamt up by some two-copper bard," she said.
Lawrence had to laugh.
It was true, after all.
And yet what had happened after that was something that couldn't be turned into money.
It was absurd, it was delightful, and Lawrence wanted it to continue for the rest of his life.
"It's those twists and turns that I wonder about," said Eve. "But I doubt you'd even tell that to a priest."
"I certainly couldn't tell a priest would be more accurate."
It was the truth, and yet what Lawrence meant and what Eve assumed were two very different things.
Eve laughed loudly, but the port was not so quiet as to give someone cause to turn and look.
"Well, you've surely dressed her nicely. It's clear enough it was an encounter you cherish."
"The moment I let my guard down, she bought them herself."
"I don't doubt it. She seems a clever girl."
No doubt the clever girl was smiling to herself beneath her hood.


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

Input:
"...Do you really think so?" asked Eve.
"Yes. Here I struggle to make a few hundred silver pieces, but now I've seen an entirely different level."
"And yet you managed to have quite the wit with him."
"Oh, that business about the gold coins?"
Eve nodded and began to slowly walk.
Lawrence took Holo's hand and followed his new partner. Holo seemed to have perfectly understood the role she was to play and had been obediently silent the entire time. When Lawrence took her hand, though, he noticed it was hot.
She must not have liked Eringin's gaze, either.
"It was quite refreshing to hear such wit," said Eve. "You threw Eringin off balance. He won't underestimate a traveling merchant again."
"I'm honored," answered Lawrence. He heard Eve's rough laugh.
"Are you sure you're not the son of some wealthy merchant house?"
"There are evenings when I feel like that."
"I give up," murmured Eve, and for once, the eyes beneath her cowl were not harsh as she spoke. "Are you not thirsty after such speech?"
They hadn't completed the entire deal, but the first barrier had been overcome.
Lawrence was not so dry as to disagree.
Even after nightfall, there were many stalls still selling liquor near the docks.
Lawrence ordered three cups of wine, and the three of them sat on discarded packing crates nearby.
"Here's to success," said Eve, raising her cup in a toast.
The three of them merely pretended to bump their chipped wooden cups together before drinking the wine.
"I suppose it's a bit late to be asking this—," started Eve.
"What's that?"
"Where did you pick up your companion?"
"Wha—?"
Lawrence was unable to conceal his surprise but not because he was relaxing after tense negotiations.
It was simply because he had never expected Eve to care about such things.
"Is it that odd for me to ask?" inquired Eve with a rueful grin. Thankfully, Holo merely held her earthen cup in both hands and said nothing. "I did say I wouldn't pry, but I am curious."
"Yes, well...people often ask."
"So where did you pick her up? I won't be surprised if you tell me she's the daughter of some rich landlord, overthrown in a peasant uprising."
It was the kind of joke that could only have come from Eve, herself being fallen nobility, but even so it was surprising. Lawrence heard a faint swishing sound coming from Holo's back, and ever so casually, he stepped on her foot.
"Evidently she was born in the north. She lived for a long time in the wheat fields of the south."
"Oh?"
"I'd done many deals in a town in the area, so I stopped in on my travels to see a friend, but then she snuck into my wagon bed."
Thinking back to that time, Lawrence realized Holo had been snuggled in among the furs he'd been hauling at the time.
Perhaps her tail gave her some kind of strange connection to fur.
"She said she wanted to return to her homeland, and after various twists and turns, I wound up acting as her escort."
It was a simple story to relate. There were no lies. Holo nodded, and Eve took a sip of her wine.
"Sounds like an encounter dreamt up by some two-copper bard," she said.
Lawrence had to laugh.
It was true, after all.
And yet what had happened after that was something that couldn't be turned into money.
It was absurd, it was delightful, and Lawrence wanted it to continue for the rest of his life.
"It's those twists and turns that I wonder about," said Eve. "But I doubt you'd even tell that to a priest."
"I certainly couldn't tell a priest would be more accurate."
It was the truth, and yet what Lawrence meant and what Eve assumed were two very different things.
Eve laughed loudly, but the port was not so quiet as to give someone cause to turn and look.
"Well, you've surely dressed her nicely. It's clear enough it was an encounter you cherish."
"The moment I let my guard down, she bought them herself."
"I don't doubt it. She seems a clever girl."
No doubt the clever girl was smiling to herself beneath her hood.

Output:
Lawrence's hand froze just short of bringing his wine cup to his lips. For a moment he wondered if he and Holo's exchanges had been audible to others in the inn, but then he realized Eve was trying to trick him into revealing something.
Holo now stepped on his foot, as if telling him not to fall for the trick.
"It's to be treasured. Money can buy companionship but not its quality."
Lawrence's gaze strayed to what lay beneath Eve's cowl.
Her blue eyes peered out at him—a rare, fine blue they were.
"The rich merchant who bought me was a terrible man," she said, looking away, glancing at Holo before her eyes strayed to the docks. It was her self-loathing smirk that finally drove Lawrence's gaze away from her profile. "If I claimed not to want your sympathy, I'd be lying, but it's ancient history now. And he died soon after."
"Is that...so."
"Yeah. You probably know this, but in my homeland, it's the wool trade that prospers. He made a fortune competing with foreign rivals in wool futures, and just when he'd gotten gold sufficient to boost his own status, he went bankrupt when the king changed policies. The deal was huge, an unbelievable amount to fallen nobles like us, who had trouble even buying bread. But he was a proud man, prouder even than the nobility, so when his ruin was certain he slit his own throat. That was the only part about him worthy of the Bolan name."
Eve spoke with neither anger nor sadness nor grim amusement at the fate of her nouveau riche master. She sounded almost nostalgic.
If this was an act, Lawrence would never be able to believe anyone again.
"The marriage ceremony was grand. My butler cried, saying how it was one of the finest in the history of the Bolan house. Of course, to me it was a funeral. But there were good things about it. I didn't have to worry about how I would eat. And I didn't get pregnant."
Blood ties were more important to the nobility than to anyone else.
Children were not gifts from God, but rather political tools.
"And nobody saw me stealing money from his coin purse, bit by bit. Once he was bankrupt and the entire household was forfeit, it was enough for me to start on my own as a merchant."
To have enough wealth to buy a noble family outright, he must have owned a grand trading house indeed.
For a noble girl like Eve to choose the path of the merchant, she must have had the help of those within the firm so that she could arrange such things.
"It's my dream, you see, to build something bigger than him and his company," said Eve plainly. "It was only good luck that allowed him to buy me. In truth, I'm not so cheap as to be bought by a merchant like him, and I want to prove it. Childish, no?" she asked in her hoarse voice, and when she smiled, her face looked very young indeed.
When they shook hands agreeing to do this deal, her hand had been shaking.
No one was perfect. In this world, everyone had a weakness.
"Ha, please, forget all this. Sometimes I just feel like I want to talk about it, that's all. I suppose it means I've a ways to go yet," said Eve, draining her wine cup and burping quietly. "No, that's not it."
She lifted the edge of her cowl up. Lawrence wondered as to her aim.
"I was jealous of you two," said Eve. Her blue eyes narrowed and were bright.
Lawrence wondered how to answer and finally escaped into his wine cup.
Holo would make fun of him for it, no doubt.
Eve chuckled. "How absurd. What we should be worrying about is profit. Am I wrong?"
Lawrence looked at his reflection in the wine.
Just like Eve's, it was not the face of a merchant.
"Right you are," he said, tossing back his wine. He dreaded hearing what Holo would have to say about this later, but as Eve raised her voice in a short, dry laugh, both of them stood and resumed their proper merchant expressions.
"We'll make for the deal as soon as the council announces its decision. Keep Arold informed as to your location."
"I shall."


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

Input:
Lawrence's hand froze just short of bringing his wine cup to his lips. For a moment he wondered if he and Holo's exchanges had been audible to others in the inn, but then he realized Eve was trying to trick him into revealing something.
Holo now stepped on his foot, as if telling him not to fall for the trick.
"It's to be treasured. Money can buy companionship but not its quality."
Lawrence's gaze strayed to what lay beneath Eve's cowl.
Her blue eyes peered out at him—a rare, fine blue they were.
"The rich merchant who bought me was a terrible man," she said, looking away, glancing at Holo before her eyes strayed to the docks. It was her self-loathing smirk that finally drove Lawrence's gaze away from her profile. "If I claimed not to want your sympathy, I'd be lying, but it's ancient history now. And he died soon after."
"Is that...so."
"Yeah. You probably know this, but in my homeland, it's the wool trade that prospers. He made a fortune competing with foreign rivals in wool futures, and just when he'd gotten gold sufficient to boost his own status, he went bankrupt when the king changed policies. The deal was huge, an unbelievable amount to fallen nobles like us, who had trouble even buying bread. But he was a proud man, prouder even than the nobility, so when his ruin was certain he slit his own throat. That was the only part about him worthy of the Bolan name."
Eve spoke with neither anger nor sadness nor grim amusement at the fate of her nouveau riche master. She sounded almost nostalgic.
If this was an act, Lawrence would never be able to believe anyone again.
"The marriage ceremony was grand. My butler cried, saying how it was one of the finest in the history of the Bolan house. Of course, to me it was a funeral. But there were good things about it. I didn't have to worry about how I would eat. And I didn't get pregnant."
Blood ties were more important to the nobility than to anyone else.
Children were not gifts from God, but rather political tools.
"And nobody saw me stealing money from his coin purse, bit by bit. Once he was bankrupt and the entire household was forfeit, it was enough for me to start on my own as a merchant."
To have enough wealth to buy a noble family outright, he must have owned a grand trading house indeed.
For a noble girl like Eve to choose the path of the merchant, she must have had the help of those within the firm so that she could arrange such things.
"It's my dream, you see, to build something bigger than him and his company," said Eve plainly. "It was only good luck that allowed him to buy me. In truth, I'm not so cheap as to be bought by a merchant like him, and I want to prove it. Childish, no?" she asked in her hoarse voice, and when she smiled, her face looked very young indeed.
When they shook hands agreeing to do this deal, her hand had been shaking.
No one was perfect. In this world, everyone had a weakness.
"Ha, please, forget all this. Sometimes I just feel like I want to talk about it, that's all. I suppose it means I've a ways to go yet," said Eve, draining her wine cup and burping quietly. "No, that's not it."
She lifted the edge of her cowl up. Lawrence wondered as to her aim.
"I was jealous of you two," said Eve. Her blue eyes narrowed and were bright.
Lawrence wondered how to answer and finally escaped into his wine cup.
Holo would make fun of him for it, no doubt.
Eve chuckled. "How absurd. What we should be worrying about is profit. Am I wrong?"
Lawrence looked at his reflection in the wine.
Just like Eve's, it was not the face of a merchant.
"Right you are," he said, tossing back his wine. He dreaded hearing what Holo would have to say about this later, but as Eve raised her voice in a short, dry laugh, both of them stood and resumed their proper merchant expressions.
"We'll make for the deal as soon as the council announces its decision. Keep Arold informed as to your location."
"I shall."

Output:
"Of course," said Lawrence, taking her hand.
Lawrence remembered Holo's reply, back upon entering Lenos, when he had told her not to become angry should they happen to find wolf fur.
He wasn't worried about himself, but he could not be at peace with someone he knew was being hunted.
That seemed to apply to business, too.
Buying a child to adopt into a family or buying a slave to use for labor...this was a necessary trade and not something anyone questioned.
But to even briefly consider the thought of actually selling Holo put Lawrence's heart into disarray. He felt as though he understood for the first time the Church's fussy denouncement of the slave trade.
Once they returned to the inn, Eve remained on the first floor, saying she was going to drink with Arold.
Holo was the only one involved in this affair to collapse onto the bed, a worn-out expression on her face.
"That was certainly an aggravating way to spend time," she declared.
Lawrence smiled wearily as he lit the tallow lamp. "You were as meek as a kitten."
"Well, this 'kitten' is what you're borrowing money on. I had no choice."
Lawrence had decided he could trust Eve's story, and in return, Eve had helped the deal proceed smoothly. As long as nothing unexpected happened, it wasn't blind optimism to believe that their fur deal would be successful and that their coin purses would soon swell with money.
No one would laugh at him for prematurely feeling that fuzzy warmth in his stomach of which the beggar had spoken.
It had been a very long time since he had felt that sensation.
After all, his long-held desire of being a town merchant was finally beginning to materialize.
"You were a great help," said Lawrence, stroking his chin lightly. "Thank you."
Holo looked at him in a none-too-friendly manner. She flicked her ears as if to brush the dust from them, sighed resignedly, then rolled over from lying on her back to her front and opened a book.
Yet in truth, she seemed a bit bashful.
"Was there anything that worried you?" asked Lawrence.
Holo wriggled out of her robe as she looked at the book, a task Lawrence good-naturedly helped her with. She was not being difficult, so his guess that she was felt bashful about his thanks was probably not far from the mark.
"There were many things that bothered me. There is a saying that there's a demon who sings an ill-omened song buried at the crossroads."
"I've heard that one."
"Oh?" Her hair spilled out like oil over water after having taken her cloak off. She gathered it up.
"There are traveling musicians who carry instruments and wander from town to town, and sometimes they're accused of being servants of a demon and blamed for bringing bad luck or sickness with them. And the place where they hang such musicians is always the crossroads outside of town."
"Oh ho." Holo's sash, undone, had slipped off onto her tail; Lawrence took it off as she tried to brush it free. She nuzzled her tail as if in thanks.
When he playfully made as if to touch it himself, she dodged quickly away.
"Then, once the demon musician is dead, they wish for its spirit to go haunt some other place. That's why crossroads near towns are kept so carefully free of stones with holes in the road quickly filled. If someone were to stumble there, it's said the buried demon could come back to life."
"Hmph. Humans believe all sorts of things," muttered Holo, seeming genuinely impressed, then turned her attention back to her book.
"Do wolves have no superstitions?"
***
Holo was suddenly serious, making Lawrence wonder if he had accidentally stepped on her tail, but she seemed to be simply thinking. After a time, she looked over at him.
"Now that you mention it, I've realized—we don't."
"Well, it's nice you've nothing that stops children from being able to pee at night."
Holo looked stunned for a moment, then laughed.
"Just so you know, I'm not talking about me," Lawrence added.
"Heh." Holo smiled, her tail wagging.


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

Input:
"Of course," said Lawrence, taking her hand.
Lawrence remembered Holo's reply, back upon entering Lenos, when he had told her not to become angry should they happen to find wolf fur.
He wasn't worried about himself, but he could not be at peace with someone he knew was being hunted.
That seemed to apply to business, too.
Buying a child to adopt into a family or buying a slave to use for labor...this was a necessary trade and not something anyone questioned.
But to even briefly consider the thought of actually selling Holo put Lawrence's heart into disarray. He felt as though he understood for the first time the Church's fussy denouncement of the slave trade.
Once they returned to the inn, Eve remained on the first floor, saying she was going to drink with Arold.
Holo was the only one involved in this affair to collapse onto the bed, a worn-out expression on her face.
"That was certainly an aggravating way to spend time," she declared.
Lawrence smiled wearily as he lit the tallow lamp. "You were as meek as a kitten."
"Well, this 'kitten' is what you're borrowing money on. I had no choice."
Lawrence had decided he could trust Eve's story, and in return, Eve had helped the deal proceed smoothly. As long as nothing unexpected happened, it wasn't blind optimism to believe that their fur deal would be successful and that their coin purses would soon swell with money.
No one would laugh at him for prematurely feeling that fuzzy warmth in his stomach of which the beggar had spoken.
It had been a very long time since he had felt that sensation.
After all, his long-held desire of being a town merchant was finally beginning to materialize.
"You were a great help," said Lawrence, stroking his chin lightly. "Thank you."
Holo looked at him in a none-too-friendly manner. She flicked her ears as if to brush the dust from them, sighed resignedly, then rolled over from lying on her back to her front and opened a book.
Yet in truth, she seemed a bit bashful.
"Was there anything that worried you?" asked Lawrence.
Holo wriggled out of her robe as she looked at the book, a task Lawrence good-naturedly helped her with. She was not being difficult, so his guess that she was felt bashful about his thanks was probably not far from the mark.
"There were many things that bothered me. There is a saying that there's a demon who sings an ill-omened song buried at the crossroads."
"I've heard that one."
"Oh?" Her hair spilled out like oil over water after having taken her cloak off. She gathered it up.
"There are traveling musicians who carry instruments and wander from town to town, and sometimes they're accused of being servants of a demon and blamed for bringing bad luck or sickness with them. And the place where they hang such musicians is always the crossroads outside of town."
"Oh ho." Holo's sash, undone, had slipped off onto her tail; Lawrence took it off as she tried to brush it free. She nuzzled her tail as if in thanks.
When he playfully made as if to touch it himself, she dodged quickly away.
"Then, once the demon musician is dead, they wish for its spirit to go haunt some other place. That's why crossroads near towns are kept so carefully free of stones with holes in the road quickly filled. If someone were to stumble there, it's said the buried demon could come back to life."
"Hmph. Humans believe all sorts of things," muttered Holo, seeming genuinely impressed, then turned her attention back to her book.
"Do wolves have no superstitions?"
***
Holo was suddenly serious, making Lawrence wonder if he had accidentally stepped on her tail, but she seemed to be simply thinking. After a time, she looked over at him.
"Now that you mention it, I've realized—we don't."
"Well, it's nice you've nothing that stops children from being able to pee at night."
Holo looked stunned for a moment, then laughed.
"Just so you know, I'm not talking about me," Lawrence added.
"Heh." Holo smiled, her tail wagging.

Output:
He then casually placed his hand on her head.
He was sure his hand would be swatted away, but Holo let it stay there, her ears moving slightly. Through his hand, Lawrence could feel the warmth of her body, just a fraction taller than a child's.
The room was so quiet as to be sad. This time was precious.
Then, as if she was finally prepared, Holo abruptly spoke.
"You never asked me if her words were true."
She had to be talking about Eve.
Lawrence removed his hand from Holo, his only reply a nod.
Holo did not so much as look at him. His gesture was all she needed.
"As though if you had, I would've teased you, looked down on you, made fun of you. Then I would've told you, and you'd owe me."
"It was a close shave, indeed," said Lawrence.
Holo smiled happily.
She let her head drop to the bed, then looked over at him.
"I understand why it is that you're trying to determine everything for yourself. Selling me is making you feel a strange sense of responsibility, isn't it? But I also know that people aren't that strong. If they have a way of knowing for certain what the truth is, they'll want to use it. And yet you don't—why?"
Lawrence wanted to know what Holo's intention was in asking this, but as clumsy attempts to get this out of her would only end badly, he answered honestly.
"If I forget the distinction there, you'll be the one that gets angry."
"...You're so honest. Why don't you try relying on me a bit more?"
Once he started wholly relying on her, the threshold for doing so would certainly drop.
People could become accustomed to anything. It took the self-awareness of a saint not to forget that.
"I'm not so clever," said Lawrence.
"You can get used to anything with practice." The hair that Lawrence had put in order swished quietly as it spilled out again. "Would you like to practice?"
"Practice relying on you?" Lawrence retorted playfully. Holo's gently waving tail gradually stopped moving.
She closed her eyes, then opened them slowly. Her smile was gentle, as though she would forgive any mistake.
Her face said that she would accept any way Lawrence could think of to rely on her.
If she was doing this to tease him, then it was a cruel joke indeed.
Who would fault him for being caught by something like this?
Thus Lawrence's mind became still colder.
He went so far as to consider if this actually showed how irritated she was and if this was all a trap to try and get him to smile.
It seemed Holo's main goal was to enjoy watching him like this.
Eventually he grinned, a touch maliciously.
"Are you telling me not to set such a nasty trap? I'm not angry," said Holo.
"If you are, you are."
"Well then, this time 'tis no trap. Practice relying on me as much as you like."
"...That's just what you'd say, isn't it?"
Lawrence shrugged as Holo snickered, then lay her head down on her arms once she was done laughing.
"Being read by you—I'm a disgrace as a wisewolf."
"Even I learn eventually."
Holo neither laughed nor looked frustrated, but there was the barest hint of a smile on her face as she pointed to the corner of the bed.
"Sit," she seemed to say. "Ah, but you're just as softhearted as you ever were."
Lawrence sat on the corner of the bed as Holo sat up and continued.
"Even if I lure you into a trap and laugh my fill, and you become angry, you'll still not exhaust your patience with me."
Lawrence smiled. "Well, I don't know about that." So you'd best mind yourself in the future, he was going to add but thought better of it, because when he expected Holo to smile her invincible smile and come back with her usual wit, she instead seemed sad.
"No, you will not. I know it," she murmured, before doing something completely unexpected.
She sat up and inched over to Lawrence's side, then sat herself sideways on his lap. Having accomplished that, she wrapped her arms around him without any hesitation.
Her face pressed against his left shoulder.
He couldn't see her expression.


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

Input:
He then casually placed his hand on her head.
He was sure his hand would be swatted away, but Holo let it stay there, her ears moving slightly. Through his hand, Lawrence could feel the warmth of her body, just a fraction taller than a child's.
The room was so quiet as to be sad. This time was precious.
Then, as if she was finally prepared, Holo abruptly spoke.
"You never asked me if her words were true."
She had to be talking about Eve.
Lawrence removed his hand from Holo, his only reply a nod.
Holo did not so much as look at him. His gesture was all she needed.
"As though if you had, I would've teased you, looked down on you, made fun of you. Then I would've told you, and you'd owe me."
"It was a close shave, indeed," said Lawrence.
Holo smiled happily.
She let her head drop to the bed, then looked over at him.
"I understand why it is that you're trying to determine everything for yourself. Selling me is making you feel a strange sense of responsibility, isn't it? But I also know that people aren't that strong. If they have a way of knowing for certain what the truth is, they'll want to use it. And yet you don't—why?"
Lawrence wanted to know what Holo's intention was in asking this, but as clumsy attempts to get this out of her would only end badly, he answered honestly.
"If I forget the distinction there, you'll be the one that gets angry."
"...You're so honest. Why don't you try relying on me a bit more?"
Once he started wholly relying on her, the threshold for doing so would certainly drop.
People could become accustomed to anything. It took the self-awareness of a saint not to forget that.
"I'm not so clever," said Lawrence.
"You can get used to anything with practice." The hair that Lawrence had put in order swished quietly as it spilled out again. "Would you like to practice?"
"Practice relying on you?" Lawrence retorted playfully. Holo's gently waving tail gradually stopped moving.
She closed her eyes, then opened them slowly. Her smile was gentle, as though she would forgive any mistake.
Her face said that she would accept any way Lawrence could think of to rely on her.
If she was doing this to tease him, then it was a cruel joke indeed.
Who would fault him for being caught by something like this?
Thus Lawrence's mind became still colder.
He went so far as to consider if this actually showed how irritated she was and if this was all a trap to try and get him to smile.
It seemed Holo's main goal was to enjoy watching him like this.
Eventually he grinned, a touch maliciously.
"Are you telling me not to set such a nasty trap? I'm not angry," said Holo.
"If you are, you are."
"Well then, this time 'tis no trap. Practice relying on me as much as you like."
"...That's just what you'd say, isn't it?"
Lawrence shrugged as Holo snickered, then lay her head down on her arms once she was done laughing.
"Being read by you—I'm a disgrace as a wisewolf."
"Even I learn eventually."
Holo neither laughed nor looked frustrated, but there was the barest hint of a smile on her face as she pointed to the corner of the bed.
"Sit," she seemed to say. "Ah, but you're just as softhearted as you ever were."
Lawrence sat on the corner of the bed as Holo sat up and continued.
"Even if I lure you into a trap and laugh my fill, and you become angry, you'll still not exhaust your patience with me."
Lawrence smiled. "Well, I don't know about that." So you'd best mind yourself in the future, he was going to add but thought better of it, because when he expected Holo to smile her invincible smile and come back with her usual wit, she instead seemed sad.
"No, you will not. I know it," she murmured, before doing something completely unexpected.
She sat up and inched over to Lawrence's side, then sat herself sideways on his lap. Having accomplished that, she wrapped her arms around him without any hesitation.
Her face pressed against his left shoulder.
He couldn't see her expression.

Output:
"'Tis a truth that people change over time. Even a little while ago, you'd be frozen in fright if I were to do this kind of thing."
No matter what Holo was trying to feign, her ears and tail never lied.
Between the sound of her tail and the way it felt as it brushed against his left hand, Lawrence could tell that it was waving uncertainly.
He grabbed hold of it lightly.
That instant, Holo flinched and stiffened. He let go immediately.
Before he could apologize, her head roughly bumped into the side of his. "No careless touching!"
From time to time, Holo would claim that she would let him touch her tail as some sort of reward, but this seemed to be a weak point of hers.
Ascertaining that had not been Lawrence's goal nor was he motivated by simple mischief.
He didn't know the cause, but inasmuch as Holo did not seem to be completely dispirited, he felt slightly relieved.
"Fool," she added, sighing.
Silence descended.
The intermittent sound of Holo's swishing tail mingled with the quiet crackling sound of the tallow lamp's wick.
Just as Lawrence was wondering if he should say something, Holo spoke.
"I truly am a failure as a wisewolf, having you fret over me so."
She must have sensed that he was about to speak.
Her words seemed to Lawrence like simple bravado, but perhaps that was just his imagination.
"Honestly, me relying on you is another story entirely. We were speaking of you relying upon me!"
She lifted her head from his shoulder and straightened, her eyes now slightly higher than Lawrence's.
Those red-brown eyes looked down at him, and her lip twisted in irritation. "When will you get flustered for me?"
"I might if you would tell me what you're truly thinking about."
Immediately Holo drew away, her face contorted as though she had tasted something bitter.
Yet when Lawrence failed to seem concerned, she soon seemed sad. "Come, now—," she said quietly.
"What?"
"I want you flustered."
"Fine then," answered Lawrence, and Holo once again leaned against his chest, completely still.
"Can we not end our travels here?" she murmured.
If Lawrence had wanted to explain to someone else the surprise he felt at that moment, they would have to have seen him.
He was so surprised; that was the only thing that occurred to him.
But then what he felt was anger.
This was the one joke he never wanted to hear.
"Do you think I jest?"
"I do," replied Lawrence instantly but not because he was composed.
It was quite the opposite. He grabbed Holo's shoulders and held her at arm's length, facing her.
She smiled but not in a way that Lawrence could be angry at.
"You really are quite charming."
Lawrence muttered under his breath that she could only say such things if she tickled his chin and smiled her devilish smile as she did so.
"I am quite serious. If I were to say such a thing in jest, you would become truly angry." Lawrence still held her shoulders; she covered his hands with hers and continued. "But you'll forgive me, because you're kind."
Holo's fingers were slender, and her nails, while not properly sharp, were a lovely shape.
And when they bore down on the back of his hands, they hurt.
But even scratched so, Lawrence did not remove his hands from her shoulders. "My contract with you...it was to escort you to your homeland."
"We are nearly there."
"So why here, now—"
"People change. Situations change. And my mood also changes."
After Holo spoke, she smiled a regretful smile, and Lawrence knew she was ruing her own pitiful visage.
For just a moment, he felt terror.
Was this something she would decide simply on a whim?
Holo giggled. "It seems there are fields yet untilled. But this is no place to be treading with one's boots on."
It was too late for her to be teasing Lawrence and enjoying his visibly flustered mien, but as he grew more and more resistant to her joking, her methods became more extreme in order to compensate.
But just as Holo had said, this was one place he didn't want her to play.
"Why this, all of a sudden?" he asked.


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

Input:
"'Tis a truth that people change over time. Even a little while ago, you'd be frozen in fright if I were to do this kind of thing."
No matter what Holo was trying to feign, her ears and tail never lied.
Between the sound of her tail and the way it felt as it brushed against his left hand, Lawrence could tell that it was waving uncertainly.
He grabbed hold of it lightly.
That instant, Holo flinched and stiffened. He let go immediately.
Before he could apologize, her head roughly bumped into the side of his. "No careless touching!"
From time to time, Holo would claim that she would let him touch her tail as some sort of reward, but this seemed to be a weak point of hers.
Ascertaining that had not been Lawrence's goal nor was he motivated by simple mischief.
He didn't know the cause, but inasmuch as Holo did not seem to be completely dispirited, he felt slightly relieved.
"Fool," she added, sighing.
Silence descended.
The intermittent sound of Holo's swishing tail mingled with the quiet crackling sound of the tallow lamp's wick.
Just as Lawrence was wondering if he should say something, Holo spoke.
"I truly am a failure as a wisewolf, having you fret over me so."
She must have sensed that he was about to speak.
Her words seemed to Lawrence like simple bravado, but perhaps that was just his imagination.
"Honestly, me relying on you is another story entirely. We were speaking of you relying upon me!"
She lifted her head from his shoulder and straightened, her eyes now slightly higher than Lawrence's.
Those red-brown eyes looked down at him, and her lip twisted in irritation. "When will you get flustered for me?"
"I might if you would tell me what you're truly thinking about."
Immediately Holo drew away, her face contorted as though she had tasted something bitter.
Yet when Lawrence failed to seem concerned, she soon seemed sad. "Come, now—," she said quietly.
"What?"
"I want you flustered."
"Fine then," answered Lawrence, and Holo once again leaned against his chest, completely still.
"Can we not end our travels here?" she murmured.
If Lawrence had wanted to explain to someone else the surprise he felt at that moment, they would have to have seen him.
He was so surprised; that was the only thing that occurred to him.
But then what he felt was anger.
This was the one joke he never wanted to hear.
"Do you think I jest?"
"I do," replied Lawrence instantly but not because he was composed.
It was quite the opposite. He grabbed Holo's shoulders and held her at arm's length, facing her.
She smiled but not in a way that Lawrence could be angry at.
"You really are quite charming."
Lawrence muttered under his breath that she could only say such things if she tickled his chin and smiled her devilish smile as she did so.
"I am quite serious. If I were to say such a thing in jest, you would become truly angry." Lawrence still held her shoulders; she covered his hands with hers and continued. "But you'll forgive me, because you're kind."
Holo's fingers were slender, and her nails, while not properly sharp, were a lovely shape.
And when they bore down on the back of his hands, they hurt.
But even scratched so, Lawrence did not remove his hands from her shoulders. "My contract with you...it was to escort you to your homeland."
"We are nearly there."
"So why here, now—"
"People change. Situations change. And my mood also changes."
After Holo spoke, she smiled a regretful smile, and Lawrence knew she was ruing her own pitiful visage.
For just a moment, he felt terror.
Was this something she would decide simply on a whim?
Holo giggled. "It seems there are fields yet untilled. But this is no place to be treading with one's boots on."
It was too late for her to be teasing Lawrence and enjoying his visibly flustered mien, but as he grew more and more resistant to her joking, her methods became more extreme in order to compensate.
But just as Holo had said, this was one place he didn't want her to play.
"Why this, all of a sudden?" he asked.

Output:
"...Eve?"
Holo nodded and removed her fingernails from the backs of Lawrence's hands.
A tiny bit of blood welled up; Holo apologized with her eyes and continued. "Money can buy companionship, but..."
"...But not its quality?"
"Aye, and so she said to treasure your encounters. That mere human girl, thinking herself so great..." Holo put Lawrence's hand to her cheek. "I want our meeting to be something good. And so I think it is best that we part here."
Lawrence did not understand what she was saying.
Back in Tereo, Holo had avoided the question of what she would do upon reaching her homeland.
Lawrence had felt this was because worry hung between them that once they arrived there, their journey together would end.
That much was only natural given the nature of their promise, and when he'd first met Holo, Lawrence had assumed that was what would happen. Surely Holo had felt similarly.
But the journey had been a joy, and he wanted to extend it, if only by a day.
He was driven unavoidably by that childish wish.
And was Holo not the same? At the very least, Lawrence felt he could look back on their travels and be certain of that much.
So how did ending their journey here follow from the idea that relationships needed to be treasured?
When Lawrence looked at her with obvious bewilderment, Holo smiled sadly, still holding his hand to her cheek.
"You fool. Do you still not understand?"
She was neither teasing nor angry. Holo looked at him as she would look at a particularly difficult child, her frustration tinged with affection.
He took his hand from her cheek as she looked up, slowly embracing her once again.
"This journey has been truly wonderful. I've laughed, cried...This cunning old wolf has even screamed in anger from our fights. I had been alone for so long, so these days have been very bright indeed. I've even wished that they would go on forever."
"So just—," Lawrence began to say, but the words stopped in his throat.
It was a conversation he could not have.
After all, Holo was not human. Their life spans were too different.
"You're very clever, but you lack so much experience. Since you're a merchant who toils for profit, I thought you would soon understand, but...I'm not saying this because I don't want to watch you die. I've...already become used to that idea," said Holo smoothly like a winter wind blowing across a brown, withered field.
"If I'd had a bit more self-restraint, I might just have endured until my homeland. I had been confident of that when we put the last village behind us, but...you're simply too softhearted. You accept everything that I do and give me anything I wish for. It's terrible to endure it...just terrible."
Lawrence was not the least bit happy to hear these words from Holo, which sounded like something one would find on the last page of some chivalrous tale.
He still did not understand what Holo was saying, but there was something he did understand.
He knew that at the end of all her words would come these: "So let us part here."
"It is just...too frightening," she said.
Her tail was puffed up to match her rising uncertainty.
She had said the same thing after eating the roast pig—that she was scared.
At the time he had not understood, but given all this, there was only one thing that could frighten her so much.
But Lawrence did not understand why it scared her so.
She wanted him to understand this.
That night, she had said it would be troublesome if he understood, but now that the conversation had come to this point, it was quite clear she had decided that the opposite was true.
Holo was a wisewolf. She did not do pointless things, and she was very rarely wrong.
So this had to be something he could understand from what he had been presented with here.
Lawrence's mind raced.
His keen memory, which was a point of pride for Lawrence as a merchant, worked to recollect everything.


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

Input:
"...Eve?"
Holo nodded and removed her fingernails from the backs of Lawrence's hands.
A tiny bit of blood welled up; Holo apologized with her eyes and continued. "Money can buy companionship, but..."
"...But not its quality?"
"Aye, and so she said to treasure your encounters. That mere human girl, thinking herself so great..." Holo put Lawrence's hand to her cheek. "I want our meeting to be something good. And so I think it is best that we part here."
Lawrence did not understand what she was saying.
Back in Tereo, Holo had avoided the question of what she would do upon reaching her homeland.
Lawrence had felt this was because worry hung between them that once they arrived there, their journey together would end.
That much was only natural given the nature of their promise, and when he'd first met Holo, Lawrence had assumed that was what would happen. Surely Holo had felt similarly.
But the journey had been a joy, and he wanted to extend it, if only by a day.
He was driven unavoidably by that childish wish.
And was Holo not the same? At the very least, Lawrence felt he could look back on their travels and be certain of that much.
So how did ending their journey here follow from the idea that relationships needed to be treasured?
When Lawrence looked at her with obvious bewilderment, Holo smiled sadly, still holding his hand to her cheek.
"You fool. Do you still not understand?"
She was neither teasing nor angry. Holo looked at him as she would look at a particularly difficult child, her frustration tinged with affection.
He took his hand from her cheek as she looked up, slowly embracing her once again.
"This journey has been truly wonderful. I've laughed, cried...This cunning old wolf has even screamed in anger from our fights. I had been alone for so long, so these days have been very bright indeed. I've even wished that they would go on forever."
"So just—," Lawrence began to say, but the words stopped in his throat.
It was a conversation he could not have.
After all, Holo was not human. Their life spans were too different.
"You're very clever, but you lack so much experience. Since you're a merchant who toils for profit, I thought you would soon understand, but...I'm not saying this because I don't want to watch you die. I've...already become used to that idea," said Holo smoothly like a winter wind blowing across a brown, withered field.
"If I'd had a bit more self-restraint, I might just have endured until my homeland. I had been confident of that when we put the last village behind us, but...you're simply too softhearted. You accept everything that I do and give me anything I wish for. It's terrible to endure it...just terrible."
Lawrence was not the least bit happy to hear these words from Holo, which sounded like something one would find on the last page of some chivalrous tale.
He still did not understand what Holo was saying, but there was something he did understand.
He knew that at the end of all her words would come these: "So let us part here."
"It is just...too frightening," she said.
Her tail was puffed up to match her rising uncertainty.
She had said the same thing after eating the roast pig—that she was scared.
At the time he had not understood, but given all this, there was only one thing that could frighten her so much.
But Lawrence did not understand why it scared her so.
She wanted him to understand this.
That night, she had said it would be troublesome if he understood, but now that the conversation had come to this point, it was quite clear she had decided that the opposite was true.
Holo was a wisewolf. She did not do pointless things, and she was very rarely wrong.
So this had to be something he could understand from what he had been presented with here.
Lawrence's mind raced.
His keen memory, which was a point of pride for Lawrence as a merchant, worked to recollect everything.

Output:
None of them seemed to have anything to do with one another, and he didn't have the faintest idea how they connected.
Wasn't the fact that the journey had been bright and joyful reason enough to want it to continue?
Every journey came to its end, but Holo surely wasn't trying to evade that inescapable fact. She should have understood that all along; Lawrence certainly did. He was confident that at the journey's proper end, they would part with smiles.
There had to be some meaning to her wanting to abandon the journey in the middle.
The middle of the journey. This particular opportunity. Because she couldn't hold out until they reached her homeland...
When he got that far, Lawrence began to feel like he was finding the connections.
Joyful. Journey. Timing. Merchant.
He froze, stricken, unable to hide the shock he felt.
"Have you realized?" she asked with a measure of exasperation, removing herself from Lawrence's lap and standing. "In truth, I would have preferred you not to, but if I let it go any longer, I'd lose the best chance. You understand, don't you, what I mean by this?"
Lawrence nodded.
He understood all too well.
No. He had vaguely known all along. He just hadn't wanted to accept it.
Holo drew away from Lawrence without betraying much reluctance, then stood from the bed.
Watched by those red-brown eyes of Holo's, he murmured, "Even you haven't seen such a tale?"
"Tale? Whatever do you mean...? Oh, I see. You're quite clever with your words."
Broadly speaking, there were two types of tales in the world. Some tales had happy endings while others had unhappy endings.
In truth, there were really four types, but the remaining two were too difficult for humans to create, and humans were too imperfect to understand them.
If there were any who could create and read those tales, that would be a god, and it was that which the Church promised after death.
"Stories where they live happily ever after," said Lawrence.
Holo walked wordlessly over to the corner of the room, picking up the pitcher of wine that sat there next to their things. When she looked back, she smiled. "There is no such thing. Of course, I enjoy speaking with you. I enjoy it too much—so much I just want to eat you up."
If Lawrence had heard her say this when they'd first met, if he had looked into her narrowed, red-tinged eyes then, there was no doubt he would have been afraid.
And yet now he felt no particular worry.
Holo wanted to return to the way they were when they had first met. That fact pierced his heart.
"But no matter how delicious the treat, one cannot go on eating the same thing forever, can they? It becomes tiresome, does it not? And worst of all, as I enjoy it more and more, I'll begin to need more and more stimulation, and then what? You know, don't you, what lies at the top of those stairs?"
Once Lawrence had trembled to hold her hand, but now Holo could embrace him without incident, and he kissed her hand as easily as one could please.
When he counted the things beyond that, Lawrence understood something that terrified him.
In the face of the long time that stretched ahead of them, there was not much they could do.
They could change hands and change goods, but the end would come before they knew it.
They could continue to climb the stairs.
But there was no guarantee those stairs would always exist.
"Eventually I will not be able to get what I crave, and all the talk that was once such a delight will fade, its joy remaining only in memory. And it's then that I will think back to how much fun it was when we first met."
Her unkind look seemed deliberate.
"That is why I was frightened. Frightened of the way it sped the erosion of this delight. The way your"—Holo took a drink of wine from the pitcher—"kindness did," she finished as though accusing herself.
Holo the Wisewolf.
A wolf who had lived for centuries, who had ensured the wheat harvest, and who feared loneliness above all else.


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

Input:
None of them seemed to have anything to do with one another, and he didn't have the faintest idea how they connected.
Wasn't the fact that the journey had been bright and joyful reason enough to want it to continue?
Every journey came to its end, but Holo surely wasn't trying to evade that inescapable fact. She should have understood that all along; Lawrence certainly did. He was confident that at the journey's proper end, they would part with smiles.
There had to be some meaning to her wanting to abandon the journey in the middle.
The middle of the journey. This particular opportunity. Because she couldn't hold out until they reached her homeland...
When he got that far, Lawrence began to feel like he was finding the connections.
Joyful. Journey. Timing. Merchant.
He froze, stricken, unable to hide the shock he felt.
"Have you realized?" she asked with a measure of exasperation, removing herself from Lawrence's lap and standing. "In truth, I would have preferred you not to, but if I let it go any longer, I'd lose the best chance. You understand, don't you, what I mean by this?"
Lawrence nodded.
He understood all too well.
No. He had vaguely known all along. He just hadn't wanted to accept it.
Holo drew away from Lawrence without betraying much reluctance, then stood from the bed.
Watched by those red-brown eyes of Holo's, he murmured, "Even you haven't seen such a tale?"
"Tale? Whatever do you mean...? Oh, I see. You're quite clever with your words."
Broadly speaking, there were two types of tales in the world. Some tales had happy endings while others had unhappy endings.
In truth, there were really four types, but the remaining two were too difficult for humans to create, and humans were too imperfect to understand them.
If there were any who could create and read those tales, that would be a god, and it was that which the Church promised after death.
"Stories where they live happily ever after," said Lawrence.
Holo walked wordlessly over to the corner of the room, picking up the pitcher of wine that sat there next to their things. When she looked back, she smiled. "There is no such thing. Of course, I enjoy speaking with you. I enjoy it too much—so much I just want to eat you up."
If Lawrence had heard her say this when they'd first met, if he had looked into her narrowed, red-tinged eyes then, there was no doubt he would have been afraid.
And yet now he felt no particular worry.
Holo wanted to return to the way they were when they had first met. That fact pierced his heart.
"But no matter how delicious the treat, one cannot go on eating the same thing forever, can they? It becomes tiresome, does it not? And worst of all, as I enjoy it more and more, I'll begin to need more and more stimulation, and then what? You know, don't you, what lies at the top of those stairs?"
Once Lawrence had trembled to hold her hand, but now Holo could embrace him without incident, and he kissed her hand as easily as one could please.
When he counted the things beyond that, Lawrence understood something that terrified him.
In the face of the long time that stretched ahead of them, there was not much they could do.
They could change hands and change goods, but the end would come before they knew it.
They could continue to climb the stairs.
But there was no guarantee those stairs would always exist.
"Eventually I will not be able to get what I crave, and all the talk that was once such a delight will fade, its joy remaining only in memory. And it's then that I will think back to how much fun it was when we first met."
Her unkind look seemed deliberate.
"That is why I was frightened. Frightened of the way it sped the erosion of this delight. The way your"—Holo took a drink of wine from the pitcher—"kindness did," she finished as though accusing herself.
Holo the Wisewolf.
A wolf who had lived for centuries, who had ensured the wheat harvest, and who feared loneliness above all else.

Output:
Of course, because she lived for such a long time, the number of creatures who lived as long as she did was very low, which made her particularly susceptible to loneliness.
But here and now, Lawrence finally understood the answer, the reason why despite living as long as she did, Holo did not seek out similar creatures to her—no, couldn't.
Holo had said that she was not a god.
And this was the true reason.
God, it was said, had created a heavenly kingdom where neither old age nor sickness existed, where bliss was eternal.
But Holo could do no such thing.
Just like a human, she could only become accustomed to something, then tire of it, passing the dim night thinking, Ah, it was such fun at first.
She could not stay happy forever.
And this wisewolf, having lived as long as she had, knew all too well that her simple, girlish wish could never come true.
"I've long been impressed at how clever you humans are to have the saying, 'All's well that ends well.' Though I might think to myself, 'Oh aye, it's quite so,' I still find myself unable to summon the resolve to end something that gives me pleasure. I don't know what would happen if you came with me all the way to my homeland. That's why I wish to end our travels here, so that it can be a delight from start to finish."
Lawrence had no words. He took the pitcher when Holo walked over to him and offered it.
There was nothing positive in her words, yet somehow he heard a note of resolve in her voice, perhaps because she was close to turning defiant.
"Are you not close to achieving your dream? Is this not the perfect time to bring this chapter of your story to a close?"
"I...suppose so," said Lawrence. It was why he hadn't interrupted her.
"Also, I was thinking of telling you later and surprising you." Holo suppressed a giggle, sitting down next to Lawrence as though the entire conversation had never happened. She twisted around and picked up the book that lay at the bedside. "I was in the book," she said with a strangely rueful smile, which was surely because of Lawrence's surprise upon hearing those words.
Even though he had not betrayed the slightest emotion when she spoke of his dream being near.
"There were all sorts of things in the past, things I'd forgotten about entirely until seeing them," said Holo, flipping through the pages, then turning the book toward Lawrence.
As if to say, "Read."
Lawrence traded the book for the pitcher, dropping his eyes to the page.
The tales, written in a precise, ceremonious hand, were of a time when people still lived in ignorance and darkness.
The name of the Church was nothing more than a mere rumor from a far-off land.
And there, just as the chronicler Diana in the pagan town of Kumersun had said, was Holo's name.
"'Wheaten tail,' they say. Such complicated words," said Holo.
Lawrence felt as though the phrase was not far off the mark but said nothing.
"Looks like you've been a heavy drinker since ancient times," he said, resigned, as he read the relevant section, and far from injuring her mood, Holo puffed out her chest and sniffed proudly.
"I remember it vividly even now. There was a rival drinker, a girl a bit younger than you, and we weren't so much drunk as we were unable to fit any more liquor in. And in the end, it was even more heroic, you see—"
"No thanks. I don't want to hear any more," said Lawrence, waving her off. He didn't even have to think about this in order to know how she had put an end to the contest.
And yet, while there was indeed a tale of a drinking contest, it seemed more like a heroic saga of Holo and the girl she had drunk against than anything else.
Perhaps that wasn't surprising.
Holo giggled. "Ah, but that's nostalgic. And I'd forgotten it entirely until reading it."
"Drinking, eating, singing, dancing. I'm sure it's been rewritten any number of times, but the fun atmosphere still comes through. Surely most of the old legends were comedies."
"Aye. 'Twas a delight. Come now, stand up."
***


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

Input:
Of course, because she lived for such a long time, the number of creatures who lived as long as she did was very low, which made her particularly susceptible to loneliness.
But here and now, Lawrence finally understood the answer, the reason why despite living as long as she did, Holo did not seek out similar creatures to her—no, couldn't.
Holo had said that she was not a god.
And this was the true reason.
God, it was said, had created a heavenly kingdom where neither old age nor sickness existed, where bliss was eternal.
But Holo could do no such thing.
Just like a human, she could only become accustomed to something, then tire of it, passing the dim night thinking, Ah, it was such fun at first.
She could not stay happy forever.
And this wisewolf, having lived as long as she had, knew all too well that her simple, girlish wish could never come true.
"I've long been impressed at how clever you humans are to have the saying, 'All's well that ends well.' Though I might think to myself, 'Oh aye, it's quite so,' I still find myself unable to summon the resolve to end something that gives me pleasure. I don't know what would happen if you came with me all the way to my homeland. That's why I wish to end our travels here, so that it can be a delight from start to finish."
Lawrence had no words. He took the pitcher when Holo walked over to him and offered it.
There was nothing positive in her words, yet somehow he heard a note of resolve in her voice, perhaps because she was close to turning defiant.
"Are you not close to achieving your dream? Is this not the perfect time to bring this chapter of your story to a close?"
"I...suppose so," said Lawrence. It was why he hadn't interrupted her.
"Also, I was thinking of telling you later and surprising you." Holo suppressed a giggle, sitting down next to Lawrence as though the entire conversation had never happened. She twisted around and picked up the book that lay at the bedside. "I was in the book," she said with a strangely rueful smile, which was surely because of Lawrence's surprise upon hearing those words.
Even though he had not betrayed the slightest emotion when she spoke of his dream being near.
"There were all sorts of things in the past, things I'd forgotten about entirely until seeing them," said Holo, flipping through the pages, then turning the book toward Lawrence.
As if to say, "Read."
Lawrence traded the book for the pitcher, dropping his eyes to the page.
The tales, written in a precise, ceremonious hand, were of a time when people still lived in ignorance and darkness.
The name of the Church was nothing more than a mere rumor from a far-off land.
And there, just as the chronicler Diana in the pagan town of Kumersun had said, was Holo's name.
"'Wheaten tail,' they say. Such complicated words," said Holo.
Lawrence felt as though the phrase was not far off the mark but said nothing.
"Looks like you've been a heavy drinker since ancient times," he said, resigned, as he read the relevant section, and far from injuring her mood, Holo puffed out her chest and sniffed proudly.
"I remember it vividly even now. There was a rival drinker, a girl a bit younger than you, and we weren't so much drunk as we were unable to fit any more liquor in. And in the end, it was even more heroic, you see—"
"No thanks. I don't want to hear any more," said Lawrence, waving her off. He didn't even have to think about this in order to know how she had put an end to the contest.
And yet, while there was indeed a tale of a drinking contest, it seemed more like a heroic saga of Holo and the girl she had drunk against than anything else.
Perhaps that wasn't surprising.
Holo giggled. "Ah, but that's nostalgic. And I'd forgotten it entirely until reading it."
"Drinking, eating, singing, dancing. I'm sure it's been rewritten any number of times, but the fun atmosphere still comes through. Surely most of the old legends were comedies."
"Aye. 'Twas a delight. Come now, stand up."
***

Output:
He then set the book down as Holo directed him to.
Just as he wondered what she was doing, Holo strode toward him and took his hand.
"Right, right, left, left, left, right—you see, do you not?"
He didn't even have to think about this.
It was the ancient dance that Holo had danced in the story.
But when he stood near her, Lawrence understood.
It was obvious what lay beneath her bright exterior.
Holo said that she wanted to stop traveling because it was too much fun.
"This dance is bad if you're drinking, though. Your eyes will start to swim before you know it," she said, looking up at Lawrence and smiling, then dropping her gaze to the floor. "So it's right, right, left and left, left, right—got it? Right, here we go!"
Lawrence had never danced a proper dance before, although Holo had forced him out into the streets on Kumersun's festival night where he had danced all night.
With that much practice, anyone would be halfway decent.
When Holo cried out "There!" and put her foot out, Lawrence matched her and did likewise.
Norah the shepherdess had done the shepherd's dance to prove her identity. Dances were everywhere. There were countless dances, but they all resembled one another.
Lawrence matched his steps to hers on the first go, which visibly surprised Holo.
"Hmph."
She had probably looked forward to making fun of his clumsiness, thinking it would not go so easily.
Step, step, step...They moved their bodies lightly and easily, and soon it was Lawrence who was leading Holo, her feet being more prone to getting tangled. Once a person understood that this sort of thing was more about confidence than technique, all one needed was audacity.
But Holo's surprise only dulled her movements for a moment.
Soon she was gliding smoothly, occasionally becoming slightly confused in an obviously deliberate manner. Lawrence wondered if she was trying to make him step on her feet.
He would not fall for it, of course.
"Hnn—hmph."
They looked like two puppets whose strings were being controlled in unison. That was how closely their movements matched.
Right, right, left, left, left, right—the movements were simple, but they continued through the steps of the dance there in the small room without stopping once.
It was only when Holo surprisingly stepped on Lawrence's foot that the dance came to an end.
"Whoops—" was all Lawrence had time to say before they fortunately wound up together on the bed.
Their hands remained clasped together.
Lawrence unpleasantly suspected Holo of doing this on purpose, but she looked stunned, as though she had no idea of what had just happened.
At length, she returned to herself and met Lawrence's eyes.
"...What are we doing here?"
"I suspect it would be better not to ask."
Holo ducked her head ticklishly and showed her canines.
She seemed genuinely happy.
Perhaps that is how she found the ability to continue.
"The direction to my homeland was also written."
Lawrence remembered the contents of the book, a smile lingering on his face from their foolish exchange, and nodded.
In the book, it was written that Holoh of the Wheat Tail came from the mountains of Roef, twenty days' journey on foot in the direction of sleep and birth.
North was sleep, and east was birth. Giving meanings to directions like this was not uncommon.
And the most decisive part of the tale was the reference to the mountains of Roef.
Lawrence knew the name.
It was the name of a tributary of the Roam River, which itself flowed past Lenos.
There was very little doubt that within the mountains of Roef were the headwaters of the Roef River. With this much information, Holo could easily find her way home, even on her own.
And Lawrence doubted his expectations were wrong.
His only mistake had been loading that wheat into his wagon bed that day in Pasloe.
"So, have you read them all?" Lawrence asked quickly, lest the silence expose their lies for what they were.
As Lawrence and Holo began to sit up, their joined hands separated.


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

Input:
He then set the book down as Holo directed him to.
Just as he wondered what she was doing, Holo strode toward him and took his hand.
"Right, right, left, left, left, right—you see, do you not?"
He didn't even have to think about this.
It was the ancient dance that Holo had danced in the story.
But when he stood near her, Lawrence understood.
It was obvious what lay beneath her bright exterior.
Holo said that she wanted to stop traveling because it was too much fun.
"This dance is bad if you're drinking, though. Your eyes will start to swim before you know it," she said, looking up at Lawrence and smiling, then dropping her gaze to the floor. "So it's right, right, left and left, left, right—got it? Right, here we go!"
Lawrence had never danced a proper dance before, although Holo had forced him out into the streets on Kumersun's festival night where he had danced all night.
With that much practice, anyone would be halfway decent.
When Holo cried out "There!" and put her foot out, Lawrence matched her and did likewise.
Norah the shepherdess had done the shepherd's dance to prove her identity. Dances were everywhere. There were countless dances, but they all resembled one another.
Lawrence matched his steps to hers on the first go, which visibly surprised Holo.
"Hmph."
She had probably looked forward to making fun of his clumsiness, thinking it would not go so easily.
Step, step, step...They moved their bodies lightly and easily, and soon it was Lawrence who was leading Holo, her feet being more prone to getting tangled. Once a person understood that this sort of thing was more about confidence than technique, all one needed was audacity.
But Holo's surprise only dulled her movements for a moment.
Soon she was gliding smoothly, occasionally becoming slightly confused in an obviously deliberate manner. Lawrence wondered if she was trying to make him step on her feet.
He would not fall for it, of course.
"Hnn—hmph."
They looked like two puppets whose strings were being controlled in unison. That was how closely their movements matched.
Right, right, left, left, left, right—the movements were simple, but they continued through the steps of the dance there in the small room without stopping once.
It was only when Holo surprisingly stepped on Lawrence's foot that the dance came to an end.
"Whoops—" was all Lawrence had time to say before they fortunately wound up together on the bed.
Their hands remained clasped together.
Lawrence unpleasantly suspected Holo of doing this on purpose, but she looked stunned, as though she had no idea of what had just happened.
At length, she returned to herself and met Lawrence's eyes.
"...What are we doing here?"
"I suspect it would be better not to ask."
Holo ducked her head ticklishly and showed her canines.
She seemed genuinely happy.
Perhaps that is how she found the ability to continue.
"The direction to my homeland was also written."
Lawrence remembered the contents of the book, a smile lingering on his face from their foolish exchange, and nodded.
In the book, it was written that Holoh of the Wheat Tail came from the mountains of Roef, twenty days' journey on foot in the direction of sleep and birth.
North was sleep, and east was birth. Giving meanings to directions like this was not uncommon.
And the most decisive part of the tale was the reference to the mountains of Roef.
Lawrence knew the name.
It was the name of a tributary of the Roam River, which itself flowed past Lenos.
There was very little doubt that within the mountains of Roef were the headwaters of the Roef River. With this much information, Holo could easily find her way home, even on her own.
And Lawrence doubted his expectations were wrong.
His only mistake had been loading that wheat into his wagon bed that day in Pasloe.
"So, have you read them all?" Lawrence asked quickly, lest the silence expose their lies for what they were.
As Lawrence and Holo began to sit up, their joined hands separated.

Output:
"A friend of yours, then?"
"Maybe." Holo laughed at the banter. "Still," she said, righting herself, "we ought to return the books before we spill wine on them. It's not as though we need to copy them, and most of it was already in my head to begin with."
"Indeed. And there's no guarantee you won't fall asleep on them and get drool all over the pages."
"I do not do such things."
"I know. Just like you don't snore," said Lawrence with a smile, standing up from the bed—pretending as though if he didn't, he was liable to be bitten.
"Would you like me to tell you just what things you talk about in your sleep?" Holo asked, eyes half-lidded.
Lawrence's heart skipped a beat at her words.
It was all he could do to keep the sadness he felt at this exchange from showing on his face.
"I expect it goes something like this: 'I beg you, please, don't eat any more!'"
There were also frequent dreams where he was able to eat as much delicious food as he wanted.
Yet since meeting Holo, he had seen his nightmare of having to foot the bill for someone eating like that come true many a time.
"You're making fully enough to pay for it," retorted Holo, climbing off the bed opposite Lawrence.
As if they were pretending to quarrel.
"Sure, in hindsight. If we hadn't made money in Kumersun, you would literally be devouring all my assets."
"Hmph. Doesn't the saying go, 'If you've eaten poison, you may as well eat the whole dish?' If it came to that, I'd just gobble you up, too." Holo licked her lips theatrically, looking at Lawrence with hunger in her eyes.
He had known this was an act for ages.
But something different lay behind that look that he now understood painfully well.
Somewhere along the line, their bond had been broken. It was very sad, but not so sad that he couldn't bear it.
What was saddest was that it was because of a mean-spirited god.
"I'll just bet. So, once we've returned the book, what do you want to eat?" queried Lawrence.
Holo's tail swished as she smiled unpleasantly. "We'll decide that once we're there."
Their conversations, at least, were as fun as they always had been.
***
The next day Holo and Lawrence left the inn shortly past noon, telling Arold that they were going to Rigolo's house but would return.
It seemed unlikely that during the short time they would be out, the council's decision would be made public, but there was always a chance. Arold nodded silently, never taking his eyes off the charcoal fire.
They ventured out into the town, again walking down its cramped, narrow streets.
Unlike the previous time, puddles were in short supply—as was conversation.
Holo asked him over and over again about details of the deal she had long since understood, just to show she was being thoughtful.
"Seems all is going well, then," she finally said.
One of the spots where Lawrence had so gallantly lent Holo his hand to help her cross was gone. In its place was a hole, perhaps dug by some mischievous youngster, and although the water level was lower, it was still a puddle.
Thus, it was the only opportunity Lawrence had to once again extend his hand, which Holo accepted before crossing the hole.
"Yes, all's well. A little too well," he said.
"You've been burned many times in the past," said Holo, eliciting a smile from Lawrence.
His fear was mostly because of the size of the profit that awaited him on the other side of the deal.
He didn't think Eve was laying a trap for him, and in any case, luring someone into a clever setup was not such a simple thing to do.
They were borrowing money, buying up goods, and selling them at a profit—that was all.
As long as their trading succeeded, there was naught to worry about.
If she were trying to strong-arm him into some kind of trap, like forcibly stealing the goods from him midway, she wouldn't have suggested a ship for transport.
The river was a more important trade route than the road, and many vessels plied it.