Chapter 2
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Translator: MJK
Chapter: 002
Chapter Title: Unlocked with Tears
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"Yeah, you've tidied it up nicely."
"..."
Andy stood there awkwardly, glancing at Gavory Aunt's expression.
On any other day, she would've read his face in an instant and sniffed out that he was hiding something...
But her mind was completely occupied with thoughts of entertaining the mage guests.
She hadn't noticed anything off about him.
Gavory Aunt scanned the room briefly before clicking her tongue.
"Fine. Now go hole up in your room and stay quiet as a mouse. A filthy orphan like you hanging around will just annoy the mages."
Andy nodded and carefully shuffled down the stairs in his awkward stance.
The book hidden in his shirt was bulkier than he'd expected, making it impossible to move normally.
His movements were suspicious enough to draw eyes, but no one paid any mind to a worthless orphan like him.
Thanks to that, Andy made it back to his tiny room without anyone spotting him.
Screeech—click.
"Huff! Heave! Heave! Heave!"
Andy slammed the nearly crumbling door shut and took deep, heaving breaths.
He reached a hand to his chest, feeling his small heart pounding thump-thump-thump-thump.
For a while, he regulated his breathing and calmed his nerves.
Then, with trembling hands, he pulled the book from his shirt.
"I really went and took it."
Andy had never stolen anything in his entire life.
Yet here he was, committing theft for the first time—and not just any theft, but stealing from a mage.
'If they find out, I'm dead for sure.'
A lowly orphan stealing from a noble mage.
If word got out, he doubted he'd go quietly.
Terror gripped the boy.
Late as it was, worries flooded in: had he done something he couldn't handle?
But on the flip side, there was excitement too.
"Magic."
If he had talent for magic, and this truly was a magic book, he might one day wield spells and become a real mage.
The odds were astronomically low, but even so, Andy savored a faint happiness.
To feel even petty joy from such fleeting fantasies showed just how hopeless his life was.
With eager anticipation, Andy opened the book's cover.
And that's when he realized the problem.
"...I can't read."
Of course, the pages were filled with dense, intricate script.
Like most villagers, Andy was illiterate.
Even if it was a real magic book, he couldn't decipher it.
Dawning on him too late that his illiteracy rendered the book useless, Andy slumped in defeat.
"Haaaah—."
The boy let out a long sigh.
Disappointment hit, and suddenly he recognized the false hope he'd clung to.
Thinking about it, a commoner—especially an orphan like him—could never become something as grand as a mage.
How could someone barely scraping by day to day ever rise that high?
"Yeah... as if a nobody like me could be a mage."
Andy gave a bitter smile, one too deep and weary for a twelve-year-old.
"Am I doomed to live like this forever? Beaten by people, starving, trapped in this cramped hole?"
He was mature beyond his years, but still just twelve.
The age when kids should be loved by family and chasing dreams.
For a boy that age, the orphan's reality was crushingly bleak.
He'd escaped into mage fantasies for a moment, but the world crashing back was still ash-gray.
"Sob..."
Tears welled in the boy's eyes.
He could no longer suppress the grief and rage he'd bottled up for so long.
But he couldn't cry out loud, so he stifled sobs instead.
Tears spilled from his eyes, tracing down his cheeks.
Finally, a drop gathered at his chin and fell, soaking into the open page.
That instant—
Radiant golden light erupted from the book.
It filled the cramped room completely.
"What a shitty inn."
One of the three mages who'd unpacked at the inn, Zito, spoke up.
He scanned the room with a scowl.
"Springless bed, cheap blankets, creaky floors... the worst."
"Don't complain so much, Zito. Having even a dump like this is better than camping in the wilds."
The other mage, Volonte, smiled faintly at Zito's griping.
"Besides, the place is worn, but the cleanliness is surprisingly good. The owner's on top of maintenance."
The inn's unexpected spotlessness was thanks to Andy.
The venomous owner had whipped the poor orphan into keeping it that way.
Of course, the mages wouldn't spare it a second thought.
Zito, Volonte, and Gai.
Three Federation mages had shown up in this backwater village, far from the front lines.
The reason they'd come all the way to this rural nowhere?
Simple.
"This dungeon run was brutal."
Dungeon delving.
They'd been clearing out the dungeons scattered across the borderlands.
Nothing unusual.
A thousand years ago, the Ancient Magic Empire had fallen.
Exploring its ruins for lost artifacts was standard mage work.
The empire had achieved unbelievable magical heights—enough to make its collapse a mystery.
Continent mages advanced by excavating, studying, and imitating ancient magic tools and artifacts.
That was their mission here: dungeon raids.
Over months, they'd cleared three, hauling out everything inside.
But the haul? Disappointing.
"Three dungeons this expedition, and not one decent find."
"A few junk magic tools... worthless tech. Soul-crushing."
Months wandering the borderlands, three dungeons down, zero highlights.
Not surprising.
True artifacts were vanishingly rare.
If they were common, they wouldn't be called "artifacts."
Intellectually, they knew the odds.
But humans hope anyway—and crash hard when hopes flop.
"Months of this for scraps."
"Should've hit the front and roasted some Empire scum..."
"Enough!"
Thud!
Midlife mage Gai, who'd been listening, slammed his staff on the floor.
The two juniors shut up at their senior's command.
"How long will you whine? High-grade artifacts are once-in-a-lifetime lucky breaks at best. Don't mope over one flop."
"...Understood."
"Good. Tomorrow we head back for real, so cut the chatter. Zito! Volonte!"
"Yes, Senior Mage!"
"Check the luggage. Make sure nothing's missing. We leave at dawn."
"Got it!"
At Gai's order, Zito and Volonte unpacked and inspected their bags.
The expedition's dungeon loot.
Mostly minor magic tools.
Lamps that absorbed ambient mana to glow forever, pens that wrote by thought alone, crystals that recorded voices...
Nothing special.
Modern magic could whip them up easily.
Only historical value as ancient relics—maybe for noble collectors.
But those were the good finds.
The rest? Total trash.
"These damn books show up in every dungeon."
Next out: books.
Luxurious leather covers, paper so fine it lasted a millennium intact.
Dungeon books! Ancient Magic Empire knowledge from a thousand years ago.
Continent folk might think them treasures.
'They're not.'
Flip.
Volonte turned a cover.
Revealed: bizarre, indecipherable runes.
'Ancient mage script.'
Letters unused anywhere on the continent.
Strokes and shapes tangled inefficiently complex—more maze than text at a glance.
'Less letters, more cipher system.'
Not simple script.
Cryptograms, insanely intricate and advanced.
Ancient mages securing knowledge from the unworthy.
'No mage has ever cracked it.'
Centuries of continental mages failing at it.
No one had decoded ancient script.
Why dungeon books were junk.
The moment the boy's tear fell, soaking the book—
Radiant golden light erupted from the book.
It filled the cramped room completely.
"Wh-what?!"
Andy nearly screamed.
He'd lived so suppressed he'd never raised his voice properly, so habit swallowed the yell.
He stared at the book in wide-eyed fear.
'Sudden light... did I mess up...?'
Andy had overheard mercenaries gossiping about mages.
One tale: battle mages with explosive artifacts.
Blinding flashes unleashing barrages of blasts—capable of massacring thousands alone.
He couldn't be sure this book wasn't one.
He was just an ignorant kid, clueless about magic.
Gulp.
Andy swallowed dryly, eyes fixed on the book.
His hands shook with tension.
No clue what was happening.
Body frozen: couldn't drop it or close the page.
But one thing was clear.
"...It's warm."
The light pouring from the book, flooding the room.
So incredibly gentle.
Like sunlight on a mild spring afternoon—infinitely soothing and cozy.
It melted the shock and tension from Andy's face in seconds.
'If I had a mother... would being held by her feel like this?'
The boy had always wondered.
The kids who bullied him were vicious, but they smiled purely in their mothers' arms.
What made their hugs turn even brats that cruel into beaming kids?
As Andy dazedly stared at the book—
Click...
A sound.
Source: the book in his hands.
Unfamiliar, alien noise.
'A lock?'
Like unlocking a padlock.
Familiar from daily life, yet odd from a book.
Right after.
"Huh?!"
The book's letters began to shift slowly.
The maze-like tangle of script slid and reformed into new letters.
Andy watched the scene in a stupor.