Chapter 77: The Flying Drunkard
“Eh?—Buhgoh!?”
With a dull, wet thud, my face slammed straight into something soft and shockingly warm. The impact sent me tumbling backward, flailing helplessly before I landed flat on my back amidst the leafy rows of our floating vegetable garden.
“Geo!?”
“Wha—what just—!?”
The mysterious rear end that had blindsided me continued drifting overhead, gliding right across the garden plot as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
“Huh? What the hell are you people!?”
Of course, it wasn’t just a disembodied butt flying through the sky. The owner of that formidable backside—who had just delivered a full-force hip attack to my face—was now hovering before us, staring down with wide, bewildered eyes.
She was a striking woman, her expression sharp and fiery, the kind of beauty that radiated confidence and defiance. Her hair shimmered with the hue of a sunset—deep amber and gold that caught the fading light of dusk. Judging by her appearance, she was probably in her mid-twenties.
Her outfit left very little to the imagination, a revealing ensemble that showed off a figure so perfectly balanced it made it hard to decide where not to look. …And to think my face had just been there. No, no—don’t think about that. Ever again.
We all froze—me, Miss Shifa, even Anii—our minds blank, unable to process the sight before us. A living, breathing woman, floating unaided in the twilight sky.
It was as though time itself had stopped.
“Wait a sec—this is… a farm?”
The mysterious flying woman blinked in disbelief, realizing she had collided with what appeared to be a literal floating garden.
Ah… we were so busted.
We’d let a total stranger see the garden flying through the sky. And not just any stranger—a human, up close and personal. How hadn’t we noticed her approach? Probably the low light… and the fact that Anii, despite her keen [Hunter’s Scent], had been too busy trembling from her fear of heights to pay attention to our surroundings. Of course, it didn’t help that I had been teasing her the entire time. That one’s on me.
But still—who could’ve guessed there’d be someone else up here!?
As I stood there in stunned silence, trying to figure out how to salvage this, the woman slurred out:
“A farm, flyin’ in the sky…? Heh, must be real drunk t’see that… hic!”
Wait—drunk? Oh, for crying out loud.
Now that I looked closer, she was absolutely plastered. The strong smell of alcohol hit me a moment later, wafting off her like a toxic aura.
Unbelievable. First the villagers, now this. It was a whole parade of drunks today.
She still clutched an empty bottle by the neck, dangling loosely from her hand. Don’t tell me she finished that entire thing by herself?
Still, her drunken haze worked in our favor. She clearly thought she was hallucinating—seeing a flying garden because of the booze. Maybe, just maybe, we could talk our way out of this.
Or so I hoped.
“Ugh…!”
“Huh!?”
“Damn… think I overdid it a bit…”
Her face suddenly went pale—a warning sign I recognized all too late.
“W-wait! Don’t you dare—!”
“Well, if it’s a garden, it’s fine, right? Fertilizer an’ all…”
“No it’s not! Stop! Stop right now—!”
“Blaaaargh!”
My desperate plea came too late. The beautiful stranger promptly doubled over and vomited. Spectacularly.
I don’t care how gorgeous someone is—vomit is never pretty.
“Ughhh…”
“Oh, you’re awake!”
“Mm? Who the hell’re you? …Wait—where am I?”
The sunset-haired woman squinted around, wincing as she pressed a hand to her temple. A nasty hangover, judging by the way she groaned.
“Uh, this is… my house,” I explained awkwardly.
After she’d finished emptying her stomach last night, she’d promptly passed out cold. Leaving her there alone wasn’t an option—monsters sometimes roamed those fields at night—so I’d used teleportation to bring her here and lay her on the sofa.
I had been terrified she might throw up again on the way, but thankfully, she’d slept quietly since. Cleaning the garden was one thing—cleaning the living room would’ve been a nightmare.
On the opposite couch, Anii was still fast asleep. She’d flat-out refused to leave last night, insisting, “I’m not letting you stay alone with some random drunk beauty. Who knows what you’d do?”
Honestly, what kind of guy did she think I was? Besides, this was the same woman who had hurled her guts out right in front of me. Romance was the last thing on my mind.
…Although, when she sat up and the blanket slipped from her shoulders, revealing smooth skin and elegant curves beneath—well, let’s just say my eyes had a mind of their own. Totally reflexive. Couldn’t be helped.
Anyway—who was this woman?
She looked like nothing more than a hungover mess now, but I was certain of what I’d seen the night before: she had flown through the air. According to Sarassa, even at the Magic Academy, only a handful of people could actually use flight magic. Meaning, this woman might be a fairly powerful mage.
“I’m Geo,” I said, trying to sound polite.
“The name’s Miranda,” she replied, rubbing her head. “As you can see, I’m a mage. …So mind telling me why I woke up in a stranger’s house?”
“Ah—well, you, um, crashed into me yesterday…”
“Now that you mention it… something like that did happen. Huh. Wait—wasn’t there a flying farm or something?”
“M-must’ve been your imagination?”
“Hmm… maybe. But it felt awfully real for a dream…”
She frowned, then suddenly lifted her gaze toward thin air.
“Hey, Demon.”
“You called, my lady?”
“Wha—!?”
Out of nowhere, a tiny creature appeared, no larger than my hand.
It had leathery black wings sprouting from its back and a thin, pointed tail flicking behind it—a literal miniature demon.
“That’s…”
“My familiar,” Miranda said flatly. “Tell me what happened last night.”
“Yes, my lady,” the tiny creature chirped—and proceeded to recount everything in excruciating detail.
Yeah… there went my last hope of denial.
“So it was a flying farm, huh?” Miranda muttered, dumbfounded. “And I didn’t even notice till I ran right into it? Damn, I must’ve been seriously out of it.”
To be fair, I’d cloaked the garden with a concealment spell just in case. She probably couldn’t detect it until she physically crossed into the barrier.
“Likely a gift ability, my lady,” the familiar added. “I sensed no mana from it at the time.”
“Tch… what kind of insane farm does that?” she snorted.
“It’s… called the [Home Garden] gift, actually,” I offered sheepishly.
“Pffft! Hah! How the hell do you interpret that as ‘make your farm fly through the sky’!? What kind of god thought that was a good idea!? Hahaha!”
I’d never met anyone who spoke so casually—so rudely—about the gods before. Wasn’t she afraid of divine retribution?
Then, the familiar dropped another bombshell.
“For the record, my lady, we are approximately three hundred kilometers from where you were last night.”
“…What?”
Miranda’s golden eyes went wide as saucers.
And just like that, our absurd, sky-high encounter had spiraled even further into the realm of the unbelievable.