Monica was sitting in the dining hall with Ginna, the two women carefully picking edible sgarpa leaves for dinner.
The leaves were deep red. If one wasn't edible, it would either ooze a foul odor or feel soft near the base. Even a single bad leaf could ruin the entire dish, which explained the care they were taking.
"But seriously, with you here, it doesn't feel like I'm working at all these days," Monica said with a smile.
Ginna might have been older, but she was still incredibly active. She woke up earlier than Monica, cooked with ease, and even gathered firewood from the forest. In many ways, she handled household work better than Monica herself.
Ginna chuckled and shook her head. "I feel like I'm not doing enough, actually. You're always the one cooking and washing clothes. If you keep doing everything alone, I'll feel guilty taking payment from your son."
Monica smiled helplessly.
Just then, a familiar voice called out, "Monica."
