Chapter Fifteen

  Zaddy

  The demon girl’s broke—not that I expected her to whip out a coin purse. No money means no bargain, and somehow, I’m stuck teaching her how to cook.

  Great.

  I gather the ingredients, glancing over my shoulder. She’s way too close, practically glued to my side, crimson eyes locked on my hands like a hawk. Creepy.

  “Personal space,” I grumble, edging away.

  She doesn’t budge. Doesn’t even blink.

  “You’re breathing down my neck.”

  Her head tilts, curiosity flickering across her delicate features. “You breathe weird.”

  I freeze, halfway to grabbing a mushroom. “Excuse me?”

  “You sound… strained.” She scrunches her nose, then starts huffing dramatically. “Like this—huhhh, huhhh.”

  Is she… mocking me? I pinch the bridge of my nose, fighting the urge to snap. Deep breaths, Grant. Just breathe.

  “This,” I mutter, grabbing a knife and a handful of mushrooms, “is going to be a long night.”

  I lay out what I’ve gathered, praying none of it’s deadly:

  Red bulbous mushrooms (non-poisonous… hopefully).

  Leafy greens that smell vaguely like garlic.

  Small tubers (look like potatoes, might explode—jury’s still out).

  A weird glowing carrot. Because of course, the carrot glows.

  I clap my hands, trying to sound more confident than I feel. “Alright, we’re making… some kind of stew. I think.”

  The demon girl leans in, her nose practically touching the pile as she sniffs with open suspicion.

  “This doesn’t smell like food,” she mutters.

  “That’s because we haven’t cooked it yet.”

  She narrows her eyes. “So… when do we kill it?”

  I blink. “Kill what?”

  “The food.”

  “It’s already dead! That’s why we’re cooking it!”

  She frowns, holding up a tuber. “This one’s still moving.”

  The tuber wiggles. I snatch it away before it grows legs or something. “New rule: If it moves, it’s not going in the stew.”

  I kneel down and pull out a flint from my inventory, flicking it with a quick motion. Sparks fly, catching the dry kindling. The fire crackles to life, warm and inviting. The demon girl leans in, eyes wide and glowing with fascination, her tiny body practically vibrating with excitement. The Codex dings loudly—

  I can’t help but grin. Firestarting, huh? Maybe this survival thing’s not so bad after all.

  She tilts her head, horns glinting in the firelight. “Do I get fire powers now?”

  I raise an eyebrow. “No, it’s just fire.”

  She pouts, crossing her arms. “Lame.”

  I don’t know why I thought she’d be impressed. She’s a demon—fire’s probably child’s play.

  I hand her a small knife, hoping she’ll at least try to help. “Chop the mushrooms.” Her face lights up, eyes glinting with mischief. She grips the knife with both hands, way too tight, like she’s ready to stab something. Before she can do anything crazy, I snatch it back. “On second thought, just watch.”

  She huffs, cheeks puffing out like a petulant child. “Fine. I’ll do the fire part.”

  Before I can stop her, she leans into the flames, bare hands and all, and pulls out a fistful of fire like it’s nothing. Just grabs it like she’s scooping up water.

  She turns to me, all smug and proud. “See? Easy.”

  I’m too stunned to speak. The Codex dings again—

  I blink, mouth hanging open. She waves the fire around like a toy, grinning wide and gleeful. “Put that back,” I choke out, voice way too calm for how close I am to losing my mind. She slowly lowers the flame, plopping it back into the fire pit. It flickers, then settles like nothing happened.

  “There,” she says, dusting off her hands. “Cooking.”

  I rub my temples. “I need a drink.”

  Somehow, against all odds, the stew actually starts to come together. It bubbles, the smell shockingly good—rich, savory, almost mouth-watering. Either I’m better at this than I thought, or demon fire has magical cooking properties.

  The demon girl inches closer, eyes wide and sparkling with anticipation. Her tail flicks excitedly behind her.

  She leans in, staring intently at the pot. “When do we kill it?”

  I freeze, the spoon halfway to my mouth. “OH MY GOD, STOP ASKING THAT.”

  She blinks, completely unbothered. “What? It’s for food, right? You said you’d teach me to cook.”

  I feel my patience slipping, like sand through my fingers. “I’m teaching you how to make food, not how to murder it.”

  She shrugs, all casual. “Same difference.”

  I drop my head into my hands. “What… What am I even doing?”

  I ladle out some of the stew, handing her a wooden bowl. She stares at it, poking the contents like they might jump out and bite her.

  “It’s not moving,” she says, suspicion thick in her voice.

  “It’s not supposed to!” I snap before I can catch myself. A bit more frustration in that than I meant.

  She just shrugs and takes a bite. Her eyes go wide. Then, with one big gulp, the bowl’s empty.

  “Oh,” she murmurs, staring at the bottom like she’s expecting more to appear. “I like this.”

  “Great,” I grumble, taking a bite of my own. And… huh. It’s actually really good. Like, surprisingly good.

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  The Codex dings in my ear—

  Congratulations:

  You have unlocked a new Catalys System: Master and Apprentice

  I blink. “Huh?”

  [Notice]

  Your apprentice has unlocked a new Profession: Cooking

  [Reminder: Do not allow your apprentice near a fire]

  

  I sigh. “What in the world...”

  She shoves her bowl forward. “More.”

  I arch an eyebrow. “What do you say?”

  She tilts her head, her crimson eyes locked on mine. “More.”

  “No, you’re supposed to say ‘please.’”

  She frowns, like I’ve just spoken in another language. “Why?”

  “Because it’s polite.”

  Her head tilts even further, curiosity plain on her face. “Does it make the food better?”

  “No, it just makes you less of a goblin.”

  She leans in, her face deadly serious.

  “…More, goblin?”

  I pinch the bridge of my nose. This is going to be a long, weird partnership.

  We eat in silence, the fire crackling between us. I keep glancing at her, waiting for... I don’t know, something. Maybe a tantrum, or for her to suddenly burst into flames. I chew slowly, trying to sound casual. “So... you’re just gonna stick around, huh?”

  She looks up, blinking like she’s processing the question. “Where else would I go?”

  I rub the back of my neck. “I don’t know... back to wherever you came from?”

  She shakes her head, quick and firm. “No.”

  “No?”

  “No.”

  I watch her, searching for some hint of sarcasm. Nope. She’s serious.

  I sigh. “Alright then. Glad we’re making progress.”

  Progress. Yeah, right. If that’s what you call being stuck with a demon girl who doesn’t know how to say ‘please.’

  I stir my stew, stealing another glance at her. “You’re a weird one, you know that?”

  She tilts her head—again—like I’m speaking gibberish. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, for starters, you haven’t told me your name.”

  She blinks, then looks away, her eyes distant. “That’s because I don’t have one.”

  I almost choke on my stew. “You... don’t have a name?”

  She shrugs. “Nope.”

  “Not even a title?”

  “Demon.”

  “Yeah, we’re not calling you that.”

  “Not Demon?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  She huffs, crossing her arms. “I don’t like this game.”

  “It’s not a game.”

  She narrows her eyes. “Then why don’t you give me a name?”

  The Codex chimes again, its tone annoyingly cheerful—

  I groan, throwing my hands up. “This stupid system’s enjoying this way too much.”

  She grins, her fangs peeking out. “Stupid System? I like it.”

  Of course she does. Because nothing says “normal” like a demon with a dumb name.

  I sit there, staring at the demon girl, my mind racing like I've been at this for hours. "Alright, let’s try this again. I’ll toss out some names, and you tell me what you think."

  She pouts, like I’ve just sentenced her to a week of chores. "What’s wrong with ‘stupid system’?"

  I roll my eyes. "It's already taken."

  She slumps back against a nearby rock, her disappointment lasting only a moment before her face brightens. "Okay. I’m in."

  I glance around the glade, hoping for some kind of divine inspiration. My gaze lands on the fire crackling nearby. "Okay, since you're good with flames, how about... Kindle?"

  "Kindle?" She scrunches her face like I’ve handed her a bowl of dirt. "No. I’m not a spark."

  I rub my temples, sighing. "It’s not meant to be literal. Just a name."

  She crosses her arms, looking ready to argue. "I like ‘Not Demon’ better."

  I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying not to lose my patience. "No. Not that one."

  "What about... Kinderlina?"

  She raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Kinderlina? That sounds too soft."

  "How is Kinderlina soft?" I ask, genuinely confused.

  "The ‘lina’ part." She wrinkles her nose like I suggested something foul.

  "Alright, how about... Blaze?"

  She snorts and starts laughing like I cracked a joke. "Do I look like a fire to you?"

  I groan. "We just went over this."

  "What about Fireball?" she asks, leaning in like she’s hit on some genius idea.

  "No," I say, shaking my head firmly.

  She leans back, grinning like she’s on a roll. "What about Lord of Fireballs?"

  "No—"

  "What about Heatwave?" She cuts me off, clearly enjoying herself.

  "I’m not calling you Heatwave."

  She shrugs, unfazed. "Fine. What about... Inferno?"

  I blink. "Now you’re just trying to get me to call you a disaster."

  "I’m okay with that," she grins, like it’s the best suggestion ever.

  I feel every bit of my patience drain. "Let’s just call you Ember, alright?"

  She stands up, rolling the word around in her mouth. "Hmm. Ember..."

  She nods, a smile tugging at her lips. "Yeah. I’m good with that. Sounds fiery."

  Finally, I let out a long breath of relief. "Ember it is."

  The morning light filters through the trees, but something feels off. I shift on the ground, stretching to shake off the last traces of sleep, and then it hits me: there’s a weight on my chest. I glance down and find Ember, sitting cross-legged on top of me, snoring softly, completely out of it.

  "Hey, Ember!" I shout, loud enough to rattle the leaves around us.

  She jerks awake, eyes wide, then tumbles backward, landing in a heap on the ground.

  "What?" she mumbles, rubbing her eyes like she’s just woken from the deepest sleep of her life.

  I shake my head, sighing. "Alright, Ember," I say, stretching my arms, trying to shake off the grogginess. "I guess you’re officially named now."

  I glance at my quest log. The "Name the Problem Child" quest still sits there, unfinished, like an assignment I’ve been avoiding.

  Ember looks up at me, brow furrowed in confusion. She shifts her gaze to the ground and nervously twists a lock of her hair. "What is your name?" she asks, voice small, almost shy.

  I blink, caught off guard. "Right. My name, little darling, is Grant Grayson Calloway." I give a dramatic bow, feeling a bit silly, but whatever. It's my name.

  Her eyes widen, and she repeats it, almost in awe. "Oh… Grant Grayson, of Calloway."

  I pause. "Wait, no. That’s not—"

  She breathes in deeply, her expression turning serious. "I am Ember Grayson, of Calloway." She nods, like she’s just made a monumental decision, and a spark of confidence fills her posture.

  I open my mouth to correct her, but she cuts me off, repeating it again, her voice steady. "I am Ember Grayson, of Calloway."

  My brain stalls. "No, no, no. I’m Grant Calloway, not—wait, what?"

  She meets my gaze, dead serious. "I’m Ember Grayson, of Calloway."

  I just stare, stunned. "You can't just take my name! I haven’t even—"

  Then, the Codex of Gil'Jedalon dings, cutting through my thoughts.

  "What...?" My jaw goes slack. I blink at the screen, trying to process the absurdity of it all.

  A scroll materializes in front of me, unfurling with an almost haughty air. The words on it are official, absurdly so. Adoption papers for Ember Grayson, of Calloway.

  I groan and drop my face into my hands.

  Meanwhile, Ember is grinning like she just won the lottery. With surprising speed, she jumps into my arms, rubbing her cheek against mine like a cat. "Yay… We’re family now!" she purrs, winking. "My new daddy!"

  I blink, utterly defeated. "Damn you... Ishtar"