Okay, confession time.
I just wanted some ice cream.
That's all. A perfectly reasonable craving, if you ask me. After working so hard delivering flavor miracles, soothing aching joints, and singlehandedly raising the hygiene standard of a medieval village, I figured I earned some chilled dessert.
So I went back to Earth, bought a tub of vanilla ice cream (and strawberry, because why choose just one?), then stopped time and zipped over to Atheria.
The second I arrived, the heat punched me in the face like a sweaty ogre. Of course. It was midsummer in Atheria, and I was standing there holding two tubs of ice cream that were already starting to soften.
"Okay, Reika, think fast."
I ran to my bathhouse, dumped the ice cream into a giant silver bowl, and tossed in every ice crystal I had—those magic stones that keep drinks cool for nobles. I covered the whole thing with cloth and prayed.
Five minutes later, I peeked.
Sludge.
Delicious sludge, but still sludge.
"NOOOOO—!" I cried. "I paid ¥700 for this!"
Just as I was about to give up and drink it like a milkshake (because, yes, I am that kind of person), my bathhouse attendant, Lila, walked in.
"Lady Rika! What is this divine aroma? It smells... like frozen heaven!"
Ah. Right. I forgot to lock the door.
She took one look at the slushy ice cream and gasped. "You've summoned snow?! In this heat?!"
I tried to explain, but she was already running into town, screaming about how I had "called winter from the stars."
Before I could even finish my half-melted dessert, the mayor was at my door.
"Lady Rika," he said breathlessly, "you've... changed the weather?"
"No, no," I replied quickly. "It's just... a personal cooling spell."
Big mistake. Now everyone thinks I'm not just a healer and food wizard—I'm also a climate sorceress.
Fantastic.
Still, I saw an opportunity.
They wanted cold things? I'd give them cold things.
So I went back to Earth, bought a mini battery-powered freezer (the kind you take camping), disguised it with some metal fittings, and brought it back. I called it:
"The Cold Shrine of Rika."
Put in your meat, veggies, or fruit? Boom. No rot.
I "blessed" it to only work with my permission—actually just me turning the battery on and off—which meant the townsfolk had to come to me to use it. Everyone thought it was incredible. Marius the knight bowed to it. A baker offered me his life savings to rent space in it.
I agreed. For a few eggs and some flour.
Within days, my little freezer was the talk of the entire town. People brought offerings to it. One guy wrote a song about it. I even had a worried grandma ask me if she could keep her soup fresh by praying to it.
I just nodded wisely and said, "Let your heart be as cool as the shrine."
Total nonsense. But it worked.
With the new freezer came new product lines. I introduced...
"Snow Milk" (ice cream I actually made ahead of time with fresh goat milk and some portable cold packs)
"Wind Custard" (chilled pudding in jars)
"Divine Icy Pebbles" (grape-flavored frozen jelly beads—big hit with kids)
Soon I had a whole dessert cart and a line stretching down the street.
Of course, there were skeptics.
"Is this truly magic?" an old merchant asked, eyeing a cold peach suspiciously. "Or is this some southern trickery?"
I smiled and handed him a chilled lychee jelly cup. "Taste and let your doubts melt away."
He bought ten boxes.
Later, back on Earth, I found myself in the school library doing research—not on math, obviously, but on solar-powered cooling tech and portable ice cream makers. If I'm going to run a frozen dessert empire in another world, I might as well do it properly.
Also, I want to try introducing popsicles.
Maybe make a magical popsicle stand that opens only during summer festivals? I could call them "Frozen Sky Spears." Add sparkles, give them fancy names like "Moonberry Burst" or "Firemelon Chill."
People will eat it up—literally.
As I brushed my teeth that night, I looked at my reflection and sighed.
"Reika... are you running a business, a cult, or a dessert-themed revolution?"
The answer: yes.