Chapter 27
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 27
Chapter Title: The Mage is High-Grade Manpower (2)
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Grroooowl!
Ferot had been sitting on the seaside cliff for a while, gazing at the scenery and enjoying some leisurely time, when a mighty rumble from her stomach made her whip around, checking if anyone nearby had heard.
'A little "gurgle" might be cute, but "grroooowl"? What the hell is that!'
Mages were supposed to live aloof from others' gazes, but she still knew shame.
"I wonder if there's anywhere around here selling decent food."
Anyway, she had to eat.
Ferot waved her arms energetically as she headed down toward the village.
Even if that quaint little village only had disaster-level food, she was willing to tough it out for a few days.
'If it's truly unbearable, I'll just cook myself. It's not like I can't—I've done it before, and I'd nail it.'
I majored in that tough magic engineering! Cooking? I could do it blindfolded.
Buoyed by that baseless confidence, Ferot drew closer to the village.
Then a sweet thread of bread scent wafted into her nose.
"Huh? Smells delicious!"
She sniffed eagerly, but like a desert mirage, the aroma dissipated.
"Hey, you! Kid!"
"Me?"
"Yeah. Is there a bakery around here?"
"A bakery? We don't have one in our village."
"What? Then what was that smell just now?"
Ferot grabbed some nearby playing children and asked urgently, but got no satisfying answer.
"I definitely smelled something tasty! Okay, kid, is there an auntie around here famous for making super delicious food? Especially bread or something."
"Something delicious... Hmm..."
She figured a scent that strong must mean the skill had spread through the village.
'I'll ask to share some fresh-baked bread and pay a little for it!'
But the child just shook their head.
"No auntie like that. A big brother, maybe."
"Big brother?"
"Yeah. The Village Chief big brother."
Ferot blinked.
Village Chiefs are supposed to be doddering old grandpas on their last legs or sleazy greedy uncles, right? What's this about a Village Chief big brother?
"The Village Chief big brother always makes tasty stuff over there. He gives it to the fishermen uncles, and if there's leftovers, we get some too. He didn't today, though. Right, guys?"
"Yeah. Probably nothing left over today."
"Tomorrow, let's ask him to make lots so we get some!"
"That stew from before was so good. Hope it's that."
"I want chicken skewers!"
Children's attention spans weren't long.
They'd just given her the "Village Chief big brother" tip when they started chattering among themselves and running off with sticks, yelling excitedly again.
"So, there's someone over there who makes great food, got it?"
This was actually perfect.
A village chief would desperately need help from a mage like her on a commission.
No need to beg—he'd surely share fresh bread.
"Hmm~ Hmm~ Wonder what kind of bread it is? It better taste as good as it smelled!"
Humming to herself, Ferot headed to Dominic's kitchen as directed by the kids.
"I'm the elder here, so it's mine!"
"Heh heh, but I made it! Give it up."
"Ahem, ahem. I've only had two so far..."
But as she passed by the kitchen window, she stumbled upon an unexpected scene.
'What? Is that the last one right in the middle?'
Three men were locked in a tense standoff over the single remaining waffle.
Her heart raced.
'I haven't eaten since breakfast! And there's no restaurant here? Damn it!'
Her master had always said:
Kid, Ferot. If you could just control that damn gluttony of yours, you'd break through walls in no time.
But today, like always, Ferot ignored the advice.
Her gluttony wasn't something a few words could fix.
Whiiist!
A sharp, high-pitched whistle escaped her lips, and the waffle the three men were eyeing floated up and drifted right to Ferot outside the window.
It happened in an instant.
"Thanks for the meal! Nom!"
The last waffle, neatly topped with strawberry jam, vanished into the mouth of this total stranger mage, surrounded by an unnecessarily dazzling golden glow.
"...Thief... No, not thief! Ma—mage?"
Dominic was dumbfounded.
Magic happening right before his eyes was surprising enough, but for it to be used just to steal a waffle?
Mages are supposed to be rational, cold, all that... Guardians of truth, observers of providence, right?
This mage, stuffing the waffle into her mouth while glancing warily lest it be snatched back, looked anything but rational.
"...This is delicious..."
"Ah, yes. Thank you."
After devouring the whole waffle, she seemed to regain her senses and managed a compliment.
Dominic felt an indescribable turmoil watching her.
Even in a rural village, did they send us a slightly dim-witted mage?
Sensing his doubt, the mage quickly introduced herself.
"Sorry! I lost my mind from hunger. I'm 3rd-class mage Ferot Diane. I came on a request from the Mercenary Guild."
"Ah, as expected! A mage, welcome. You must be tired from the long journey. I'm Dominic, Village Chief of Evergreen."
"About the waffle, I'm sorry. I'll pay for it."
"No need. It's just one waffle."
"No, I need to pay to feel right. But that thing just now—was it really made by you, Village Chief? How do you make it? Can you make more? Sell any? How much?"
Her rationality had returned, but this was the most pressing question on Ferot's mind.
A taste I've never had before! What was that crunchy sweetness? Definitely not candy.
Mages were a breed who racked their brains all day.
Encounter a tricky formula? They'd pull all-nighters until they cracked it, only satisfied then!
So drinks to chase away sleep and fatigue, and sweet treats to soothe weary bodies and minds, were inseparable from mages.
Snacks at this level? I won't run short for three months. What a relief.
Ferot was especially a snack fiend.
She'd skip meals but never snacks—a true sugar addict!
"Um, the Mercenary Guild said room and board included—snacks too, right?"
At that moment, Dominic realized how to wrap this mage around his finger.
Play it right, and she could pull triple duty?
White-collar talent had been scarce in a village overflowing with manual laborers!
High-end help to offload all the headaches had rolled in on a vine.
**
A few days later.
Children started filing one by one into the small warehouse used by the Fishing Cooperative.
From snot-nosed toddlers to near-adult teens.
"Alright, everyone, take out your homework. Quick, quick!"
"Yes, teacher!"
"Let me see."
Ian and Dominic watched the scene from outside with warm smiles.
"How'd you think to teach the kids reading and arithmetic?"
"To raise Raki into a decent assistant, it was necessary anyway. Might as well teach a few more kids—what's the big deal?"
"Still..."
"When they grow up, they'll all be fine clerks."
Dominic's face, adding the mage will do the teaching anyway, was serene for the first time in ages.
"Good thing it worked out. I worried some families might not send their kids."
"Who'd turn down free lessons?"
"It's not always that simple. Little ones might not know better, but kids about to undergo their coming-of-age rite already pull their weight."
Dominic crossed his arms.
"Just a couple hours in the morning, but some might think it's better spent working."
"No way..."
"'No way' is what gets people."
Thankfully, Dominic's fears didn't materialize.
The Fishing Cooperative men, pillars of the village, were the type to bark, "If we need kids' help, just quit outright!"—real man's men.
And the village aunties? Forget about it.
A white-faced elite from the capital!
A genuine 3rd-class mage teaching their kids—for free!
[Can't you see our village changing? You gotta read and calculate to get hired at some merchant group, you fool!]
They were the aces, smacking the backsides of dawdling brats and marching them to class.
"Miss Ferot seems to have real talent for teaching, more than expected."
"Yeah. Thought she was a bit odd, but she looks normal enough. Almost guilty using snacks to make her work."
"...Everyone has different needs."
Thus, Ferot had cheerfully taken on teaching the kids, unable to resist the lure of an extra daily snack.
Unlike Dominic's initial doubts during the deal—Will this really work?—she'd accepted with a casual What's so hard about that? and blended seamlessly into village life.
"Time to prep for the grand opening."
"Grand opening?"
"Construction's almost done."
"Ah!"
Dominic nodded toward the site across the village.
The resort was rising there.
"Gotta hire staff, train them—tons to do."
Especially the launch.
Something this world hasn't seen—we need buzz right out the gate... Any good ideas?
Promotion was the issue.
He was confident in satisfying guests once they came, but attracting the first ones was the puzzle.
"Targeting noble ladies, right?"
"Yes."
"Mind writing to the Countess?"
"I've considered it, but the before-and-after isn't the most flattering case."
"Before-and-after?"
"Yeah."
The near-complete resort was a recovery retreat for noble ladies postpartum.
Optimal diets and programs for stress from post-birth changes, plus building tight-knit communities among ladies who gave birth around the same time.
To pull that off, inviting expectant mothers would be ideal... Wait, no? It's inspired by postpartum centers, but no rule saying only moms. Tons more need healing.
This world had no such concept—why copy Korea's exactly?
Viscountess Noella!
Shifting gears solved Dominic's dilemma perfectly.