FFF-Tier System, SSS-Rank Wife

For the first time since I appeared in this world, I felt good about myself.

And it didn't take a genius to figure out the reason behind it.

Sure, without any sort of system, I was so weak a random fart would be enough to send me into a cardiac arrest. And up until this point, this awareness weighed heavily on me, along with how I could do nothing but rely on the Saintess to guarantee my safety.

But now?

With the three cups of steaming-hot coffee arranged in a neat row on the smithy's counter? And with both Greg and Saintess staring at them with uncertain looks on their faces?

I almost felt like a concierge at some wine-tasting ceremony!

"While I don't want to act like I'm smarter than I am, I would suggest for you, Saintess, to start with the mildest drink," I pointed at the weakest of the three cups, "while for you, mister Greg, could I recommend a sip of the strongest one of the three?"

Judging by the stares the two instantly threw my way, I clearly overstepped my bounds a bit.

And once again, it didn't take a genius to figure out how or why.

No one strong enough to reach Selia's level would want to be automatically treated with the tenderness I've just offered. Not when others could take it as me assuming they were too weak to enjoy the strong drinks.

On the other side, those who were perceived to be tough often disliked when others rubbed it into their face. And for someone like Greg, who emanated toughness with every fiber of his hairy and beardy being, getting singled out as the one to likely enjoy the strongest of the tastes…

"Of course, I'm talking about sips and all just so that you can both find the taste you enjoy the most and then decide which cup to enjoy to its fullest," I added, veiling my earlier words as but a pragmatic approach to the tasting.

Then came the moment I was waiting for.

On the left, Greg approached the cup with a degree of carefulness, a quality he was clearly foreign to.

And for some reason, I could guess why.

After watching me work so hard and with such focus just to make those three small drinks, he, as a fellow craftsman, didn't want to disrespect all of my efforts by carelessly approaching the fruit of my labor.

It didn't matter what he thought of me personally. He saw all the efforts I've put into making those drinks, the care, dedication, and extreme patience I showed when crafting. And for that alone, he was willing to extend some degree of professional courtesy.

Saintess, on the other hand, didn't even need to bother with due diligence, given the natural elegance and precision of every one of her movements.

And so, while Greg made sure to carefully lift the cup to his mouth before taking a sizeable yet not greedy sip, Selia gracefully brought the cup up to her mouth before wetting her lips with the milky drink first and only then taking a sip.

The two of them put the cups down and closed their eyes, as if they were a mirror of each other.

Then, still acting like one and the same, they brought their faces up with their eyes still open as they allowed the lingering taste of the drink to fully display its flavor palette, a process they finished up by opening up their mouths and taking in a slow, steady breath in, allowing the heaviest of the drink's aromas the chance to go on a full display.

Out of the two of them, Greg was the first to open his eyes and slowly breathe out, tasting the very last of the flavors of his sip with a strangely dreamy expression on his face.

"That's…" his face suddenly tensed up while his eyes filled with a strange kind of stifled fury. He even went ahead and squeezed his hand into fists that he then raised, as if he was about to smash it into the cups on the counter…

Only to then gently relax his hand and slowly bring it out while moving to the side of the counter and heaving a long, deep sigh.

"I think I'm starting to understand what you meant," he muttered, his eyes blinking at an increasing rate as if he has just woken up from the longest dream in his life… Or rather, a dream he was actively living in, not even knowing he was actually asleep.

"It's like… I've woken up for the very first time…" he muttered in an awed whisper, all to my own surprise.

'The hell are you talking about?' I thought while trying not to show my thoughts on my face. 'Coffee takes at least ten, fifteen minutes for the caffeine in it to act, though?'

This was the universal truth that every coffee enjoyer in the world knew.

A truth I abused to execute the so-called "power-naps" consisting of drinking a cup of heavy coffee only to then instantly lay down and take a short, revitalizing nap, so that upon waking up, the refreshment of the nap would kick in at the same time as would the caffeine from the drink.

"Aaaah…" On the other side of the counter, Saintess finally opened up her own eyes, revealing a dreamy, longing look in her eyes. "That was… delicious," she admitted weakly, as if melting down from the inside out. She then looked down at the other two cups, her eyes betraying the clear desire.

Yet, before even moving to taste the other two kinds, she turned her eyes over to me.

"Did you say you would be able to cultivate more of it?" she asked, while her hand already moved over to the second cup.

"With time, I hope so. But I would need a lot of help and luck to make that happen," I instantly rushed to curb Selia's expectations.

I only had a few seeds in my stash, after all. And I only ever grew it in the university greenhouse, one managed by a bona-fide botanist!

Whether or not I could figure out what the coffee plant needed to grow before I would run out of all the seeds…

That, I couldn't know myself, no matter how much I wanted to.

"I see…" Saintess muttered before taking a deep breath and reaching for the second cup. Greg, on the other hand, opted to sit still and wait, so that he could take his turn on the middle cup next.

Yet, as soon as I saw the Saintess put the cup down as she fully focused on enjoying the experience, I turned my face to the dwarf before locking my arms over my chest and then bracing myself for the potential fallout.

"Now, if you could share, is it just me or isn't your smithy desperately lacking coals?"