Chapter 19 – A 3,000-Year Generation Gap
"♫ Pumpkin~~~"
"♫ Big, round pumpkin~~~"
"♫ Square and sturdy pumpkin~~~"
Frieren hummed a cheerful tune as she swung her staff in wide, gleeful arcs.
Under the shimmering sunlight, plump pumpkins floated into the air one by one, the vines snapping cleanly beneath the crisp flash of her [Severing Magic].
Each harvest landed perfectly in the cart behind her, stacked in precise, geometric rows.
Even beneath the blazing noon sun, the white-haired elf showed no signs of tiring. She wiped the sweat from her brow and shouted toward the field:
"Alright~! This cart's full—next one, roll it in quick!"
On a shaded bench not far away, the elderly village chief sat beside Elias, squinting against the sunlight, a warm smile creasing his wrinkled face.
"Miss Frieren certainly has energy, doesn't she…"
Elias nodded faintly, his gaze following the figure in the field.
Even someone as slow to notice as him could tell that something about her had changed.
Ever since her birthday, that lazy, sluggish elf had seemed to shed her old skin completely—
transforming into one of the most energetic, enthusiastic people in the entire village.
Wherever there was work to be done, Frieren would appear—bounding along like a stray sunbeam.
But for Elias, the most terrifying change was this:
Every morning when he stepped out of his room, Frieren was already awake.
Not only that, she'd even cooked him breakfast—
…though the flavor defied polite description.
As a result, the [Forced Wake-Up Spell] he had once been so proud of had become utterly useless.
"Unbelievable…" Elias muttered under his breath, shaking his head.
"I just hope," he added dryly, "that she doesn't cause any trouble while she's at it."
"How could you say that?"
The old chief frowned, his bushy white brows knitting in mild disapproval.
"Thanks to Miss Frieren, every little problem in the village has been solved beautifully!"
"Beautifully, huh…" Elias arched a brow. "That clumsy girl can handle things on her own now?"
"Lord Elias," the chief sighed with a helpless chuckle, "you're as oblivious as ever."
He gestured toward the fields.
"Haven't you noticed? Look closely—the pumpkins."
Elias turned his head, puzzled.
And there, in the golden rows of vines and leaves, he finally saw it.
Somehow, in the time he'd been sitting there, every single pumpkin in the field had become perfectly square.
A faint crease appeared between Elias's brows.
"…That was Frieren's doing?"
He tilted his head slightly, expression unreadable.
"I still don't understand, though. What's the point of changing the shape of a pumpkin?"
The village chief chuckled softly.
"That's because you, my lord, are far too powerful to notice such small, worldly concerns. Miss Frieren, however…"
He smiled as he spoke, his tone filled with quiet admiration.
"About half a month ago, a northern merchant caravan began buying pumpkins from the village. During their stay, Miss Frieren overheard one of the merchants complaining…"
The old man's voice took on a faintly amused tone.
"He said that every year on the bumpy road home, the round pumpkins would roll off the cart and smash to pieces."
"When she heard that, Miss Frieren decided to modify a spell—originally one that turned watermelons into cubes—and adapted it for pumpkins instead."
"And now," he said, gesturing proudly toward the field,
"we have perfectly square pumpkins that stack neatly like bricks. No more accidents on the road."
Elias stared in silence for a long moment.
(ᇂ_ᇂ|||)
"…So that's her great accomplishment, then."
The chief only smiled knowingly. "That's precisely why I say you and Miss Frieren are worlds apart, my lord."
Elias had no response.
After Aivis's passing, he had chosen to live in the village, to experience the mundane—to find meaning in the small things.
But he had never imagined that "mundane" could mean… reshaping pumpkins.
Yes, this must be what people called a generation gap.
And a three-thousand-year one at that…
He sighed, rubbing his temple.
Just then, the chief leaned closer, eyes darting left and right, as if about to reveal a great secret.
"Lord Elias," he whispered, "if I may ask something personal—do you think my hair's… been growing lately?"
Elias blinked. (≖_≖?)
"…What are you talking about now?"
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
"If I remember correctly, when we first met seven years ago, you only had… what, three strands?"
"C–Cough! Cough!!"
The chief doubled over, clutching his chest in mock agony.
"My lord's memory is always unreliable—except, it seems, when it comes to matters that stab straight into the heart…"
"So?" Elias asked dryly. "Why bring up your hair all of a sudden?"
A faint blush crept across the old man's wrinkled face.
"Well, you see… about half a month ago, I asked Miss Frieren if there was any magic that could help grow hair. A few days later, she brought me a potion."
"She said it was a modified version of the 'Hair Growth Accelerating Elixir.'"
"But it's been several days since I drank it, and my head still feels… rather breezy."
He scratched his shiny scalp in confusion.
"…A modified hair-growth potion, huh."
Elias frowned, trying to recall something.
It sounded oddly familiar.
After a few seconds of silence, his gaze slowly drifted downward… toward the chief's nose.
(´-ι_-｀)
(´-ι_-｀)
(ᇂ_ᇂ|||)
An overwhelming sense of wrongness struck him.
"…Chief," Elias said carefully, "your hair might not be growing, but your nose hair seems… remarkably vigorous."
The old man touched his nose and then laughed, relieved.
"Heh. So that's why it's been so itchy lately."
"I see now—it must have been 'Accelerated Nasal Hair Growth Potion' instead."
"Looks like Miss Frieren's modification… didn't quite work as planned."
Elias sighed deeply. (ᇂ_ᇂ|||)
"Don't talk about it like it's some minor inconvenience! This is a tragedy of nature!"
Still, with a flick of his finger, he cast [Micro Severing Magic], trimming away the unfortunate excess from the chief's nostrils.
As he did, Elias couldn't help but wonder:
Why did this man—already past eighty, who claimed he was nearly ready to "meet the Goddess"—still cling so stubbornly to something as trivial as his hair?
The chief seemed to sense his thoughts.
"Lord Elias," he said quietly, "you must think I'm ridiculous—an old fool, still obsessed with something as meaningless as hair."
He let out a soft sigh, his voice trembling slightly.
"But even foolish things can have meaning… if there's a reason behind them."
He lifted his head, eyes glimmering faintly as he gazed toward the horizon, where the evening sun bled into gold.
"My wife," he said, "fell in love with me because of my thick, glossy hair."
"When she passed before me… my hair began to fade, little by little, as though it went with her."
"When I reach heaven… will she still recognize me? Or will she see only a bald old stranger?"
His voice trailed off, carried away with the wind.
Elias said nothing.
He simply watched as the dying sunlight sank beyond the hills, swallowed slowly by the dark.
He didn't understand it—
just as he hadn't understood the meaning of birthdays, or why humans cared about celebrating them.
He could never summon Frieren's kind of warmth, that effortless empathy.
All he knew was this—
It was a simple wish.
A foolish, human wish from a man nearing his end.
And sometimes… even fulfilling a foolish wish was enough to make life feel whole again.