"...!"
I stared at Lhasa in shock, my heart pounding.
Does she know I've been reborn? That I've lived this life twice?
But Lhasa offered no further explanation. Instead, she continued speaking in that same distant, prophetic tone.
"You must seize this opportunity with all your might. God wants to accomplish His will through you."
Her eyes weren't focused on me anymore. They were fixed on something far away—something I couldn't see.
Her voice had changed too. It was monotonous now, like she was reciting an incantation—completely different from the sharp, direct tone she'd used when scolding Brentian earlier.
"You must believe in yourself. Don't hesitate to do what you think is right."
Only then did Lhasa's eyes clear. She looked at me with sudden intensity—sharp, penetrating, and utterly serious.
"Don't keep relying on empty promises. They may taste sweet in the moment, but they offer no nourishment. They will only weaken you. You must cut yourself off from the things that linger around you, whispering falsehoods."
"What... what do you mean by 'empty promises'?"
I wanted desperately to ask what she was talking about. I had no idea what any of this meant.
Lhasa took my hand and pressed it firmly against my chest—right over my heart.
"You must figure that out for yourself. No one can teach you this lesson."
"But I... I don't understand..."
Lhasa's expression hardened. She looked almost angry.
"Then learn. You must learn. If you want to survive, you must see everything clearly. And to do that, you must become strong first."
Her words left me more confused than before.
Lhasa grabbed my shoulders and shook me—not gently, but sharply, as if trying to jar me awake.
Her grip was surprisingly strong for someone so old.
She glared at me with eyes that demanded I pay attention—that I listen.
"You are dying."
"What...?"
"Don't let death consume you."
Around us, people were starting to notice. Curious eyes turned toward us as Lhasa and I spoke in hushed, urgent tones.
Lhasa lowered her voice even further so that no one else could hear.
"I cannot tell you everything. But I can give you a clue. Take my words to heart."
Then she let out a deep, weary sigh and patted my shoulder—this time gently, almost tenderly.
"You've worked hard. You've worked so hard..."
Her eyes turned red, glistening with unshed tears. She looked at me as if she pitied me deeply—as if she could see all the suffering I had endured.
Seeing that expression, I felt my own eyes begin to sting with tears, even though I didn't fully understand what she was saying.
Lhasa grasped my hand firmly one last time.
"Don't forget the clue I'm about to show you."
Then she rose to her feet and walked over to sit beside the chieftain, as if our conversation had never happened.
Clue? What clue?
What was she going to show me? How? And when?
I watched Lhasa's every movement carefully, trying to decipher her intentions.
Lamia leaned toward me and whispered:
"What did that woman say to you?"
Another maid sitting nearby also leaned in, her expression curious.
I shook my head.
"Nothing important. She simply congratulated me on coming here and offered a few kind words."
At my dismissive answer, both maids straightened and turned their attention elsewhere, clearly uninterested.
I continued to watch Lhasa closely, but she seemed completely absorbed in chatting with Callius and the chieftain, as if she had forgotten all about her promise to show me a clue.
Did she forget? Or is this part of the test?
I resolved to find a way to speak with her privately later and ask for clarification.
The chieftain called for his people to bring food to entertain us.
Soon, we were presented with an impressive spread: a basket piled high with freshly cut goat meat, steaming bowls of rich meat soup, creamy goat's milk cheese, and flatbread made from cornmeal.
The tribesmen worked efficiently. They hung a large pot of soup over the central oven, while simultaneously roasting skewers of meat in the radiant heat escaping from the sides of the stove.
Corn dough was spread thin and placed on flat earthenware plates, then cooked over charcoal pulled from the oven.
Though I was still preoccupied with Lhasa's cryptic warnings, I found myself fascinated by the process unfolding before me.
So this is how food is made...
I had never set foot in a kitchen in my entire life—not in either of my lives.
This was the first time I had ever witnessed the transformation of raw ingredients into a finished dish, let alone observed the actual process of cooking.
I thought you just... added water and meat, and it became soup.
But there was far more to it than that.
What are those powders they keep adding?
The cook kept reaching into small cloth bags and sprinkling various colored powders into the soup and over the meat—some red, some brown, some green.
They also added what looked like dried leaves and grass.
Each time they did, the aroma wafting through the ker changed—becoming richer, deeper, more complex.
Before Lhasa and Callius returned from their private conversation, the chieftain had been telling us about nomadic life.
As he explained, those who live as nomads must travel light. The Uttar people owned very few possessions.
Each family brought whatever utensils they had from their own kers and distributed them among the guests, but there still weren't enough to go around.
I managed to secure a proper bowl for my soup, thanks to the generosity of our companions, but not everyone was so fortunate.
Some people used cups instead of bowls. Others improvised with serving trays or even pot lids.
The cooks ladled generous portions of meat soup into each person's makeshift dish.
No utensils...?
I held my bowl of soup in both hands and waited for cutlery to be distributed, just as the Uttar tribesmen were doing.
But instead of producing spoons or forks, they simply picked up their skewers of meat in one hand and began eating—tearing chunks of meat directly from the stick with their teeth, then sipping soup from their bowls.
With their bare hands...?
I glanced across the circle and saw Callius watching me with obvious amusement.
He made a show of demonstrating the proper technique—as if encouraging me to try—but when he saw me hesitate, he burst out laughing.
That teasing, mocking laughter made my face burn with embarrassment.
I can do this too!
I squeezed my eyes shut, took a deep breath, and bit into the skewered meat.
The meat was heavily seasoned with spices I couldn't identify—flavors and aromas completely unlike anything I had ever tasted before.
The texture in my hands felt strange: hot, soft, slightly greasy, and gritty from the sprinkled spices.
Eating meat with my bare hands...
In my previous life, I had been forced to eat very little. My appetite had always been suppressed by fear and anxiety.
But now—perhaps because of the novelty of the food, or the informal atmosphere, or simply the crisp mountain air—I found myself eating twice as much as I normally would.
Even with Lhasa's disturbing words still weighing on my mind, my appetite remained surprisingly vigorous.
How strange...
While I was busy tearing into my meat, the cornbread finished cooking.
It looks so flat and dense... Can that really be called bread?
Lhasa picked up a basket filled with the freshly baked flatbread and began distributing it herself, moving around the circle.
"We have plenty of meat, but grain is scarce. We don't farm, so bread is a luxury for us."
She tore the flatbread into bite-sized pieces and handed one to each person sitting in the circle.
The bread disappeared quickly. As expected, there wasn't enough for everyone.
One person was left without any.
The knight sitting beside Alex was named Andrew.
"I have no bread for you."
Lhasa showed him the empty basket, her expression neutral.
One of the Uttar tribesmen immediately moved to give his own piece of bread to Andrew.
But Lhasa shook her head and gently stopped him.
"Everyone has their own portion."
Then she turned to Andrew and spoke calmly, almost kindly:
"Do not covet the bread that is not yours."
Andrew looked a bit embarrassed—not because he had been greedy, but simply because he was the only one left without bread.
He smiled sheepishly.
"I don't mind not having any. The other food is more than enough."
"Yes. That's right."
Lhasa nodded and returned to her seat.
The meal continued at a leisurely pace.
Vanessa—who had stormed out of the ker earlier in a huff—eventually returned. Her nose was red from the cold, and she looked thoroughly chastened.
Naturally, she had nowhere else to go.
The Uttar tribesmen welcomed her back warmly and shared their meat soup and skewers with her without hesitation.
Vanessa pursed her lips when she saw the lack of proper dishes.
She frowned even more deeply when she realized she would have to eat with her bare hands.
But—perhaps remembering the embarrassment she'd suffered earlier when she complained—she chewed and swallowed her food without saying much this time.
Then I saw something that made me freeze mid-bite.
Lhasa quietly gestured to one of the Uttar tribesmen, who then discreetly handed a piece of cornbread to Vanessa.
Wait... what?
No one else seemed to notice. Everyone was too busy eating.
But earlier, she refused to let anyone share their bread with Andrew...
Lhasa's words and actions were utterly baffling. Nothing she did seemed to follow any consistent logic.
I looked up and met Lhasa's eyes.
She glanced pointedly at the cornbread in Vanessa's hand, then smiled at me—a strange, knowing smile.
As if she had just shown me everything I needed to see.
Night fell quickly for the Uttar people.
As soon as the sun set, they arranged their sleeping spaces and lay down on blankets made from animal hides.
Surprisingly, our entire group—men and women alike—was told to sleep together in the chieftain's ker.
We're all sleeping in the same room...?
I had somehow managed to eat with my bare hands, but this felt like crossing another uncomfortable line.
I fidgeted nervously as I looked at the sleeping space the chieftain's wife had prepared for me.
To my left were the spots assigned to Lamia and the other maids. To my right were Callius and his men.
Just like during the meal, we would all be lying in a circle.
This is so uncomfortable...!
As I stood there awkwardly, Callius—oblivious to my discomfort—gestured for me to lie down.
"The leather blankets are quite soft and warm."
"Yes..."
I reluctantly sat down.
What choice do I have? I can't exactly ask them to build me a separate ker, and I can't kick everyone out and claim this one for myself.
As I settled onto my blanket, the maids—who had been hesitating just as I had—finally sat down as well, their faces pale with mortification.
We all stole furtive glances at the knights, who were already well-prepared for sleep. They had stripped off their armor and were dressed only in comfortable undergarments.
It was the first time I had ever seen men wearing so little, and seeing so many of them at once made my face burn.
How can everyone be so casual about this...?
Then Callius lay down on his side and looked up at me with a teasing expression.
"Are you going to keep staring at the half-naked bodies of other men while your newlywed husband is lying right beside you?"
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