Master and Disciple
Master and Disciple
After finishing the meal and sharing a brief chat, Sheryl had cleanly returned to the academy.
Her dissatisfaction over the unfair treatment I'd received due to the Noble Council's influence had subsided to some degree, and the fact that I hadn't said anything despite ending up at the academy was brushed off as me simply not knowing. So it was a natural reaction, all things considered. Before she left, she had glanced at the documents stamped with the Holy Light Cross Order's seal piled up beside the fireplace, but she hadn't asked any particular questions. Whether she caught on to what those documents signified or simply didn't think much of them, I couldn't tell.
"Well, I'll see you tomorrow then."
"...Did you come without a word?"
Since there hadn't been any unfamiliar horse at the stable, I'd naturally assumed she had arrived by carriage and had it waiting somewhere nearby. But at Sheryl's utterly casual move to walk back, I asked in disbelief, and she nodded with the same unruffled attitude, as if it was no big deal, and delivered a magnificent reply.
"I ran here. Renting a horse at the academy is a hassle with the procedures."
"What, but last time with Ragnis you rode one just fine."
"I was forced to ride that one. I already got a warning for that, so I'm wary of a second one."
It was funny that the fact she'd been wary enough to avoid a second warning was more surprising than the fact she'd forcibly taken an academy horse and ridden it here in the first place. But anyway, since she herself seemed perfectly fine with it, I decided to just let it be. I saw Sheryl off, came back, and was helping Asilie, who was cleaning up, with the dishes. Asilie, who had finished tidying the table, spoke to me with a smile.
"It's really fascinating. I talked with her for a bit before Eldi arrived, and I couldn't tell how you two could be so similar."
"Not even a little bit similar."
"You're the only one who doesn't know it. She just uses polite words, but her way of thinking and the principles behind her actions are truly similar, I'm telling you."
"My refined sensibilities and vocabulary are on a completely different level from Sheryl’s."
"That's because she's thoroughly versed in noble formalities and the necessity of restraining emotions, so it's ingrained in her body. The one who knows that best is Eldi, who was a personal butler, isn't it?"
To avoid falling for Asilie's clever rhetoric—smiling subtly and demanding an answer she already knew—I briefly shut my mouth. Silence was affirmation in this situation, but it was the best act of defiance I could manage.
I knew. Because there was a reason she felt like a little sibling to me. But the thing about facts is, if you shove them in someone's face, most people react with denial. On top of that, I was a former life steeped in worldly grime and a result of an unjust death, while she was a pure fifteen-year-old who wasn't any of that, which made it even more aggravating. Since this was a secret I couldn't speak of yet, I changed the subject appropriately, finished cleaning up, and sat back down by the stove to start reading the documents.
"Come to think of it, you're going to be working at the academy now, aren't you? Are the clothes you'll be wearing all right?"
"Oh, right. Actually, it came up when I stopped by the Noble Council. I just have to stop by the tailor's shop they told me about tomorrow morning and pick them up."
While I was stroking Laika, who had naturally approached and plopped that heavy body onto my lap, and reading a document summarizing the changes that had occurred among the holy warriors over several years, Asilie came over and sat across from me, throwing out a question. A memory I'd glossed over surfaced again. I had roughly gotten the address—was it in my coat pocket?
Setting aside that it was a gift from Duke Lesrom, when I asked how in the world they'd figured out my measurements, it turned out the capable Maid Meshiella from the temporary detention center was one of their people. Not that they had planted her like a spy; she had volunteered to work at the detention center for some reason. That competent and reticent maid seemed to have quite a backstory.
It wasn't like I'd been harmed by her; on the contrary, she'd ensured a comfortable stay. So it was a story easily brushed aside. When I mentioned it in a manner akin to casual after-dinner chitchat, Asilie shook her head and laughed quietly.
"No matter how I think about it, these aren't things a fifteen-year-old should be experiencing, or people he should be meeting."
"Heh. You're telling me."
It was such a true statement that this time I couldn't help but just laugh.
◈
The cold had been growing more intense, and getting up early in the morning had become a real ordeal. But since today was unfortunately a day I absolutely had to go out, I reluctantly crawled out of bed. I carefully prepared breakfast without waking the sleeping Asilie and had my meal.
[Master. Going out again today?]
"I have to go out almost every day now."
[Is Laika going too?]
"Yeah. You're coming too."
Until I could work with Seneran to understand Laika's condition in detail, I didn't want to leave them behind if I could help it. And whether they were truly a Welsh Corgi or some pseudo-Welsh Corgi, I figured taking them along for a walk would be more beneficial in many ways than leaving them cooped up at home. At my decision, Laika began wagging their tail furiously, overjoyed.
Really, the more I looked, the more dumbfounded I grew. How on earth had anyone thought of using a creature like this as material for a Demon Sword? It was clear that all the ancient Demon Sword makers were psychopaths completely lacking in empathy.
It was a bit early, with most shops in the capital only just opening, but since I might need alterations, it was better to head out early. I washed down the last sandwich with a gulp of milk, and as soon as I finished preparing to go out, I set off from the house with Laika.
At the same time, the cold that fiercely greeted me wrenched a curse right out of my mouth.
They say humans are creatures of adaptation, but I just couldn't adapt to this fucking cold. Not in my past life, not in this one. Of course, the cold here was harsher than in Korea, and my body was far more trained than back then. There were plenty of problems with comparing the two, but what could I do about cold that made me want to curse? I couldn't curse the gods, so I had to curse the cold itself.
It wasn't an urgent situation, nor an impossible one to cope with. But if I used a spirit like a portable hand warmer, I had no idea what kind of scathing words I might hear. So I gritted my teeth and endured the cold with just my clothes. Following the sketch map, I arrived at the tailor's shop, located in the Dwarf District. From the moment I heard Duke Lesrom had prepared this, I'd had a faint suspicion it would be like this, and it was a truly overwhelming situation.
In this other world, most luxury goods were dwarven-made, and clothing was no different.
Because they incorporated various functions linked to magic, they were luxury items that offered both convenience and style for nobles. For adventurers, they were lifelines, items you'd want to get at least one of when you made a lot of money. Most products made you think not "Why is this so expensive?" but "Ah, this is why it's expensive." They could definitely be called true luxury goods.
But that only applied if your status matched the item, making it a simple luxury good. A mere blue-rank adventurer wearing it would only be met with ridicule on many levels...
"Ah, I see."
While thinking to myself, a belated realization dawned on me. I let out a sigh and entered the shop without another word. Strictly speaking, since I was becoming the disciple of an academy professor who was a former court mage, maintaining a certain level of dignity was necessary. In that case, I should just accept it graciously.
The tailor's shop I stepped into was packed with a deeply antique design that pressed down on a person. Furniture redolent with the scent of wood, many neatly arranged fabrics, and a modest number of mannequins and garments all sat composedly. Its appearance drew my eye more than any ordinary armory, and I unconsciously found myself looking around. The elderly dwarf who had been sitting alone, drinking coffee and reading a newspaper, turned his gaze toward me, adjusted his glasses, and spoke.
"Hm? You've come early in the morning."
"...Do you know who I am, sir?"
"I know well. A customer with a reservation."
Lately, I felt like I'd been experiencing a lot of moments where I was left speechless without realizing it. Did what this old man just said mean I was his only customer today?
The elderly dwarf, who had neatly placed his newspaper and coffee on the table, approached me with a leisurely gait, tilted his head, gave me a quick glance over, and continued naturally.
"Hmm, whoever took your measurements was extremely accurate. There's no need for adjustments."
Since Mr. Balkun was also a craftsman skilled enough to gauge the weapon I'd been using just by eye, this level of expertise wasn't surprising to me anymore. I greeted the old man as the Confucian dragon inside my body commanded.
"...Sorry for the late greeting, sir. My name is Eldmia Ega."
"Huh, polite, aren't you? You don't look like you're of noble birth?"
"Somehow I ended up here, but I'm nothing more than a mere adventurer."
The old man, who even at a glance exuded the air of a master craftsman like Mr. Balkun, revealed a smile that could be felt even through his thick white beard.
"This isn't a place where one 'somehow ends up' getting clothes tailored, is it?"
"That's exactly what I mean. Thanks to that, I'm completely dumbfounded."
I spoke my honest feelings without any embellishment, but for some reason, the old man only laughed pleasantly.
"An amusing human friend, aren't you? Did you come knowing what kind of clothes they are?"
"In truth, I came knowing nothing at all. I only thought... they would be clothes that wouldn't embarrass me when I enter the academy as an assistant to my teacher."
"Ha ha ha. Right. Clothes that won't embarrass you. You came knowing just enough, I see."
The old man said something that didn't match at all with the atmosphere of the place, which was lined with clothes at a level that wouldn't just avoid embarrassment but would actively draw eyes, or with the air he himself gave off. He took a long pole, retrieved a garment hanging on the wall, and tossed it to me as if it were truly an insignificant item.
"Those who are called mages have a talent for making the viewer develop stereotypes, whether they realize it or not, because what they wear is all so similar. Thanks to that, just throwing on a single cape makes one look like a mage. So I made the clothes in a form that's comfortable for you to move around in, suited to you. However, the coat and cape won't get in the way. Go inside and try them on. I've put the shoes in there, so change into those too."
The gesture of smoothly pointing to the fitting room with the pole was exceedingly natural. Unnecessarily self-conscious, I nervously stole glances as I headed toward the fitting room, but whether I did or not, the old man seemed more interested in Laika, who was waiting behind me.
Since I'd become cautious even about simply putting the clothes on, changing took a bit of time. But I couldn't stop marveling with each piece of clothing I put on.
It was a truly perfect fit, to the point I regretted never having worn tailored clothing in my entire life and thus having nothing to compare it to. It held firm where it needed to, and gave comfortable leeway where it should. Not only the fit, but the design pleased me as well. What the old man called 'shoes' had a visual that wouldn't be out of place if called combat boots, but they were exquisitely concealed by the dress pants, so at a casual glance they just looked like ordinary shoes. The top and cape also had minimal flashy decorations, and it definitely felt like the focus was on practicality rather than ornamentation.
"Now that you mention it, how's the cape? I made it so it wouldn't get in the way when you draw your sword or anything."
"It's very comfortable. But how did you know I'm a warrior?"
"The recipient was under your name. Don't you know you're famous?"
Since I usually only met people who kept picking fights with me, having a conversation about my fame in this manner was exceedingly awkward.
"Well, I only seem to run into people who don't know me..."
Because of that, I answered evasively and hesitantly. But the old man burst into a hearty laugh and, still in a tone suggesting it was no big deal, said something that was decidedly a big deal.
"That's a serious problem, then. Because at the academy, there won't be anyone who doesn't know you."
Damn it all.
My actions in the Empire hadn't become rumors too, had they? I'd been forbidden from doing my fairy-tale knight impression.