The Portal: Life with the Vampire and Werewolf Queens
Chapter 5: Effort and New Knowledge
As a new day dawned, Jiro, Vespera, and Lyra were greeted by the fresh morning breeze, a gentle embrace from nature that seemed to offer a renewed sense of hope. After enjoying the breakfast prepared by Miya—warm pandesal, coffee with the subtle aroma of barako, and ripe mangoes as a delightful treat—the elf Miya presented them with a fresh challenge. "You have a new task today," she said with a warm smile, her eyes sparkling like stars brimming with optimism.
Stepping outside, they were astonished to see a massive pile of wood stacked in front of the yard, its pieces resembling a mountain of challenges awaiting them, as if meticulously prepared for their arrival. "You need to chop this wood," Miya added, gesturing toward the axes, wedges, and gloves laid out nearby, reminiscent of ancient tools from a bygone era.
The two immediately protested, their complaints echoing like those of reluctant children avoiding school. "What is this? We're not used to this kind of work! I'd never do such tasks—servants handled this for me!" Vespera exclaimed, her voice laced with dismay as she eyed the wood as if it were an adversary to conquer.
"She's right! Why us? Are you seriously making us work under this scorching sun? This isn't fair to us!" Lyra chimed in, crossing her arms and averting her gaze from Miya, her expression radiating defiance. Yet they had no choice but to comply, as Miya's warning was clear: the task must be completed before they could rest, and she threatened that there would be no lunch if they failed.
They began by picking up the axes, but their inexperience quickly became evident, as if they were novices encountering a weapon for the first time. Lyra was the first to try, her hands trembling as she lifted the heavy axe, unaware of the need to control her strength. Instead of striking the wood accurately, she accidentally toppled it to the ground, the loud thud resembling thunder that startled her.
"Why is this so hard? It's so heavy, and the weather is unbearable!" she cried out, adjusting her hair now dusted with sweat and dirt, her face etched with frustration. Vespera, more cautious at first, attempted her swing but misjudged the motion, the axe nearly striking her foot, leaving her shaken. "Agh! I can't do this! I'll only end up hurting myself!" she complained, her hands quivering as she gripped the axe, her clothes already smudged with soil.
"Jiro," they called out to him, their eyes pleading for assistance. Jiro promptly stepped forward to help, his patience reminiscent of a parent guiding their children. "Let me teach you. Hold it firmly, set the wood upright, and focus on your target before swinging—precision is key," he said, demonstrating the proper technique by expertly chopping a small piece of wood with steady hands.
Lyra tried again, but her second attempt failed as the wood split unevenly, one half flying off and angering her. "This is giving me a headache! Jiro, help me again—I'm exhausted from this one piece!" she shouted, seeking guidance like a child in need, her eyes brimming with disappointment.
Vespera, determined in her second attempt, faced more mishaps due to her lack of skill. As she swung, the axe slipped from her grasp and fell to the ground, kicking up dust that irritated her face and clothes. "This is filthy! I can't do it—I feel like a farmer!" she grumbled, wiping her face with her sleeve, her expression reflecting resistance.
Yet Jiro encouraged her with a gentle smile. "You need to learn, Vespera. Try again, and I'll assist you—just put in the effort," he said, retrieving the axe and showing the correct angle once more, his movements swift yet careful.
Amid their labor, their competitive spirit flared like a playful rivalry. "I've chopped more wood than you, Lyra! Look at my pile!" Vespera boasted, pointing to her modest stack with a proud grin. "That's not true! I'm faster—and my cuts are neater!" Lyra retorted, hastily swinging at another log, only to lose her balance and tumble to the ground, prompting laughter from Jiro and Miya, who watched from a distance.
Despite their clumsiness—such as Lyra tossing the axe in the wrong direction or Vespera scraping her hand on the wood in frustration—they gradually improved under Jiro's patient guidance, like students learning from an unwavering teacher.
After hours of sweat, sore hands, and chuckles over their mistakes, they completed the task. The wood was now neatly split into usable pieces for fuel or materials, and the yard looked tidier thanks to their efforts.
Though exhausted, a sense of pride warmed their hearts, their dusty faces adorned with smiles of satisfaction. "Well done, even if you're a bit stubborn," Jiro teased, eliciting laughter from the duo as they wiped their hands clean.
After chopping, Miya enlisted their help to deliver the wood using an old truck with a rumbling engine. During the journey, they began chatting, their ignorance of the world unfolding like a series of curious questions from children on their first adventure. "What's that big thing with lights by the road, Jiro? It looks magical!" Lyra asked, pointing at a traffic light as if it were a newly discovered secret, her eyes wide with wonder. "And why are people running when no one's chasing them? Do they have enemies?" Vespera added, puzzled by the runners visible outside, her head tilting as if trying to decipher the scene.
Jiro patiently explained, like a teacher in the school of life. "That's a traffic light—it helps vehicles move smoothly and prevents accidents. The runners are exercising for their health, not fleeing from foes," he said with a smile, his voice soft like a bedtime story, amused by their lack of knowledge.
Their curiosity didn't end there, flowing endlessly like a stream. "Why is there a big box with pictures by the roadside? It looks alive!" Lyra asked again, referring to a colorful billboard. "That's an advertisement, showcasing products like food or clothes—think of it as a vendor's announcement," Jiro clarified, delighted by their openness to learning, his eyes reflecting admiration.
While delivering, their clumsiness became a spectacle. As Lyra unloaded some wood, she dropped it unexpectedly, the loud crash startling onlookers as if an explosion had occurred. "Oh! Sorry, I didn't mean to! It slipped!" she apologized, quickly gathering the pieces and seeking Jiro's help, who assisted her with swift, concerned hands.
Vespera struggled with larger pieces, and when she attempted to load them onto the truck, she lost her footing and fell, drawing laughter from their companions and the driver. "Jiro, help me! This is too heavy—I'm running out of strength!" she called, reaching for Jiro's hand, which he offered promptly, her face a mix of dismay and a faint smile.
Whenever they struggled, they instinctively turned to Jiro for support, as if he were their savior in every predicament. "Jiro, how do I place this properly?" Lyra asked, adjusting the fallen wood.
"Jiro, help me—I'm dizzy from the weight!" Vespera added, also seeking aid. Despite their dependence, they began to learn—Lyra mastered lifting with care, while Vespera adjusted to the wood's weight. After hours of sweat, fatigue, and laughter over their blunders, they finished the delivery, their dusty faces glowing with joy and a sense of accomplishment.
"Great job, even if you're a bit stubborn and clumsy," Jiro joked, prompting laughter as they wiped their sweat. Jiro draped a towel over Vespera's back to clean her off, but Lyra's jealousy flared, and she insisted Jiro do the same for her, unwilling to be left out.
After the delivery, Jiro took them to the market to purchase ingredients like flour, sugar, eggs, and vanilla extract. The market buzzed with vendors' calls and the scent of fresh produce, but their inexperience shone through, making them seem like strangers in the place.
Lyra struggled with the shopping, and when she grabbed a sack of flour, her excessive strength tore it open, spilling white powder onto the floor and her clothes. "I don't want to do this anymore! It's so messy, Jiro!" she complained, as Jiro helped pay the irritated vendor and clean up, her hands now dusted like an actor in a scene.
Vespera, meanwhile, erred in choosing eggs, picking cooked ones due to her lack of inspection, amusing Jiro as he fixed the basket. "Vespera, you need to ask the vendor for what you need—not everything is the same," he said, replacing the eggs and settling the payment.
Back home, Miya summoned them to the living room to watch a video on cake baking, like a classroom lesson in the kitchen. The duo was excited, but their ignorance surfaced as they struggled to grasp the steps, resembling first-day students.
"What's that white powder, Jiro? It looks like ash!" Lyra asked, pointing at the flour on the screen, her finger raised curiously. "And why does it need mixing? Can't we eat it right away?" Vespera added, tilting her head as if unraveling a culinary mystery.
In the kitchen, everything was ready—bowls like magical vessels, spoons like wands, and an oven like a legendary furnace. The competition began like a royal game. "I'll bake a tastier cake than you, Lyra! Let's see who wins!" Vespera declared, swiftly grabbing flour with a regal air. "Dream on! I'm better and won't be beaten by you!" Lyra countered, matching her with a challenging smile.
However, their fun turned messy, like a comedic act—the flour dusted Lyra's face, and an egg slipped from Vespera's hand, infuriating her. "Jiro, help me! I dropped it, and it's so dirty!" Lyra called, reaching for Jiro's hand, which he offered, her face now a floury mask. Vespera grew jealous when Lyra was helped first. "Why you help her again? You should help me first—this isn't fair!" she protested, but Jiro urged them to continue with a light laugh.
Despite the chaos, they persevered like warriors seeking victory. Lyra struggled with mixing, her hands dizzy from the spoon's motion, but she learned to handle it with Jiro's guidance. Vespera feared the oven's heat, yet mastered adjusting the temperature under his tutelage.
After hours of sweat, Jiro's assistance, and laughter over mistakes—like Lyra spilling sugar into the wrong bowl or Vespera embedding a shell fragment in her cake—they finished. The cakes lacked perfect designs, bearing the marks of their hands and irregular shapes, but their sweetness brought joy.
They shared the treats with Miya and Jiro, delighted by their teamwork, their smiles reflecting their triumph. Yet they quickly sought Jiro's verdict. "Who made the tastiest, Jiro? Tell us!" they asked in unison, their eyes alight with hope and rivalry.
Knowing he couldn't choose between them to avoid the wrath of the loser, like dodging a war between queens, Jiro opted for Miya's cake, which she had quietly prepared. "Miya's cake is the best—perfect in flavor and design," he said, sparking their indignation.
"Why her? We worked so hard!" Lyra objected, her voice thick with protest. "We should've won!" Vespera added, crossing her arms. "You need to improve to surpass Miya—keep learning and practicing," Jiro replied with a calming smile, his words a beacon of encouragement.
That evening, Miya provided them with fabric, thread, needles, and small buttons for eyes. She played another video on crafting toy dolls, like a lesson from an ancient tome. "You must make ten dolls to sell to children at the market tomorrow—the work needs to be neat," Miya instructed, her tone serious like a judge's decree. The duo grumbled, resembling children dreading extra homework.
"Why us again? We sold wood today, and we're tired!" Vespera complained, her face clouded with dismay. "Yes, I just want to sleep!" Lyra added, slumping into a chair, utterly drained. But Miya warned, "If you don't finish, there's no dinner—you must put in the effort." Jiro reminded them that everything they desired—food, clothes, or items—required hard work, a life lesson they needed to embrace.
Though they felt such tasks were beneath their former regal selves, they reluctantly sat at the table strewn with materials. Their inexperience was immediately apparent—Lyra fumbled with the needle, pricking her finger and drawing a drop of blood that startled her. "Ouch! It hurts! Jiro, help me—this needle feels haunted!" she cried, reaching for Jiro's hand, which he bandaged like a doctor.
Vespera grew dizzy counting thread, snapping it with too much force. "I can't do this! It's so confusing, and these things are tiny!" she protested, but Jiro encouraged her with a smile. "You'll learn—don't give up," he said, taking the thread to demonstrate the proper method.
"I'll help you, and together we'll explore these skills—like an adventure of our own," Jiro promised, guiding them through stitching and button attachment. Despite their clumsiness—Lyra dropping fabric on the floor or Vespera sewing a button in the wrong spot—they began to improve. Lyra learned to cut fabric without tearing it, while Vespera mastered tying thread without breaking it.
After minutes of sweat, Jiro's support, and laughs over their errors, they each crafted a doll with unique designs—Lyra's in red, Vespera's in blue. Delighted, they felt a surge of pride, their eyes gleaming as if they'd won a battle.
Yet their rivalry persisted, an unending feud. "My doll is prettier—look at its dress!" Vespera boasted, raising her creation like a crown. "No, mine is better—more colorful and well-made!" Lyra countered, showing hers with a proud smirk.
Their bickering continued, but amid the competition, they learned more with Jiro's steady guidance, a light illuminating their new world. "If that's the case, let's see who can make the most beautiful dolls, and Jiro will decide the winner!" Lyra challenged.
"I won't back down from that!" Vespera replied defiantly.
"These two are really something else," Jiro sighed, shaking his head with a weary smile.