Chapter 136
Chapter 136
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 136
Chapter Title: Value (1)
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Purple mana gathered in the air, coalescing into a tremendous surge of energy.
When that energy reached its peak, the purple mana unfurled in a ring shape, forming a portal connected to another space.
"Follow me."
Merlin, the owner of the used bookstore, spoke as he stepped through first.
Rasso and the other children shrank back in fear at the unbelievable sight before them, but when Oliver silently nodded to show it was safe, they quickly mustered their courage and followed one by one.
Oliver waited until every child had gone inside.
Standing guard in front of the Matel research lab personnel.
...
...
...
...
"I'm the last one, Teacher."
In the midst of the awkward silence, Rasso spoke as he entered last.
Oliver nodded and turned to follow suit.
That was when it happened.
A voice came from behind.
It belonged to a pale-skinned blond man named Karl.
"You... I won't forget this."
Oliver paused and turned back, staring at him in silence.
The boy Colin, who had unintentionally confessed his sins, came to mind.
...
Oliver turned fully toward him and bowed deeply, with utmost politeness.
"I won't forget either."
After the exchange, Oliver stepped through the purple mana portal.
As soon as he entered, a fierce, icy wind whipped through, strong enough to make his hair fly wildly.
It wasn't enough to send a person flying, but it was plenty to make it hard to keep his eyes open.
"You're a bit late. Did you have a chat with Matel?"
Oliver turned toward the voice.
There stood Merlin, with a massive mansion looming behind him.
"...He greeted me, so I returned the greeting."
"A greeting?"
"Yes. Manners must be observed, after all."
"Huh... Can't argue with that. Come on in. It's quite cold out here."
Oliver nodded and approached Merlin.
All the while unconsciously scanning his surroundings.
The air was clear and refreshing, nothing like Landa's stale haze. The landscape was equally unfamiliar—no sign of anything from Landa.
Snow deep enough to sink into, an open horizon, and massive mountains capped with white here and there.
Even the spot where Oliver stood was the peak of a mountain.
"This isn't Landa."
"No, it isn't."
Merlin answered as he personally opened the door.
Oliver gave a small bow of thanks for the courtesy and stepped inside.
Inside, he saw Rasso and the other children from the lab huddled together, at a complete loss.
They were terrified by the utterly alien situation and surroundings.
It was only natural—Oliver himself had no idea what was going on.
A bookstore owner had burst in to help, opened a portal, and brought them to a mansion atop a mountain.
Whether he sensed their confusion or not, Merlin calmly closed the door behind him and clapped his hands twice.
Clap—clap—
In rhythm with the sound, figures emerged from within the mansion.
Or more precisely, wooden dolls in human form.
The dolls, dressed in butler attire and brimming with mana throughout their bodies, glided forward smoothly and bowed rigidly in greeting without a word.
The children gasped at the sight of the wooden dolls and flocked to Oliver.
Merlin spoke as he watched them.
"No need to be scared. They're just golems."
"Golems?"
"You don't know? Dolls powered by mana. If it's alright with you, may they tend to the children—check on them, bathe them, and perhaps dress them too?"
Oliver glanced at the half-naked children and nodded.
He assured Rasso and the others that it was safe and asked if they could follow the wooden dolls.
The children looked frightened but nodded bravely after glancing at Oliver.
"Yes, Teacher."
Rasso answered for them and led the others after the wooden dolls.
With Oliver now alone with Merlin, the old man remarked,
"Impressive. They don't seem the type to follow easily, yet they all listen to you."
Oliver said nothing in response, turning toward Merlin and falling silent for a moment.
He had a flood of questions: How had he known about the Matel secret lab? Why help? Where were they? And who was he, really?
But Oliver swallowed them all and bowed deeply, his thanks sincere.
"Thank you for your help, Elder."
Merlin watched him quietly before replying.
"Huh... That's unexpected too. I figured you'd start with questions."
"I have plenty, but greetings come first. Thank you truly."
The old man straightened his posture.
His previously hunched form from the bookstore now stood tall, as if fitted with a brace—taller by a good 50%.
"...You're right to give thanks. I don't help just anyone. Don't think lightly of it."
It was genuine. Oliver acknowledged it.
The old man seemed to have plenty he wanted to say too, but after glancing around the mansion, he suggested handling the urgent matters first.
"First, let's feed the young ones, put them to bed, then we can talk. Sound good?"
Oliver nodded.
"Yes."
The old man summoned more wooden dolls—golems—to prepare food.
Upon closer inspection, the mansion appeared entirely devoid of human inhabitants.
It made sense; beyond the grand windows lay only clear skies, snow, and rocky peaks. Having staff here would be the oddity.
Moments later, the aroma of delicious food wafted through.
It rivaled the scents from Forest Restaurant.
As their tension eased, the children felt their hunger and sat down to eat under Merlin's guidance, devouring their meals messily.
"You should eat too. The food's quite good."
Merlin said, taking the seat right of the head.
Oliver sat in the corresponding seat to his left, as offered.
"The golems cooked this?"
"Yes. I can't cook."
No sooner had he spoken than a wooden doll—golem—poured wine into their glasses without spilling a drop, impeccably precise, like a seasoned server.
Oliver could tell at a glance: despite appearances, this was a golem of advanced craftsmanship.
He knew little of golems and had never seen a proper one before, but the flow of mana through its frame and its refined movements screamed extraordinary skill.
The creator was a master—perhaps one who'd devoted a lifetime to them.
After a good while, the children finished their meals, faces glowing with satisfaction and joy.
With safety secured and bellies full, exhaustion hit them all at once; they began nodding off one by one.
As if he'd anticipated it, Merlin gestured with a finger to the golems, ordering them to take the children to bedchambers.
The wooden dolls—golems—gently scooped up the children and carried them away.
As Oliver stared at the golems, Merlin commented,
"They'll be put to sleep safely. No worries, young friend."
"I know. I was just admiring how finely made the wooden dolls—golems—are."
"Huh... You keep catching me off guard. But aren't you too trusting? What if I meant harm?"
"I don't think you do."
"Any basis for that? Ah, as a skilled black mage, can you read my emotions?"
Oliver shook his head.
Merlin's emotions were invisible now—like peering through thick, opaque glass.
"I can't see them."
"That's music to my ears. I don't care for mind-readers. So why trust me?"
"Just a feeling. I don't think you'd harm children, Elder."
For an instant, Merlin's emotions flickered faintly into view.
"...Appreciated. Old folks ought to dote on kids. Anyway, how's the wine? Rare vintage for a guest after so long."
Caught off guard by the sudden shift, Oliver examined his glass and replied,
"It's good."
"'Good,' eh... You know your wines?"
"No, but I can tell it's fine."
"Good instincts. From the Bol region of Galos. Folks there pride themselves on machines and wine alone."
Oliver vaguely recalled hearing of Galos.
"...Foreign land?"
Merlin burst into hearty laughter, as if it were truly amusing.
"...From the first time we met, you're a riot."
Oliver recalled their initial encounter.
Had he done something entertaining?
"Was I?"
"You were. Made my recent days enjoyable."
"I've received much help and pleasure in return—thanks to your book recommendations."
"Calling study 'pleasure'... Wish my own lot would learn a bit."
"...Are you a teacher?"
"Teacher? Well, not entirely wrong. With disciples, one is a teacher... Tiresome, eh?"
Oliver jolted upright, correcting his posture.
He'd tried hiding his fatigue.
Merlin waved it off reassuringly.
"No, don't startle. You didn't show it. As I said before, age brings wrinkles and insight. Spotting weariness is easy."
"Sorry."
"No need. As host, propriety demands I end this and let you rest—but I shan't."
"...??"
"Young friend, you owe me. Know that?"
"Yes..."
"Everyone says so. But they never grasp the full extent of the aid or the trouble it cost. Natural, though—humans are like that."
Oliver had no retort and fell silent. He truly didn't know the effort involved.
After a moment's thought, he spoke.
"...Then, could you tell me?"
"Tell you?"
"Yes, Elder. I don't truly know the lengths you went to. I'm clueless on that front. So, would you enlighten me? That way, I can thank you properly."
The old man's eyes widened slightly, then he burst out laughing.
"...Kuhahaha! Second time in my life for such a sensible reply. Fine, I'll tell you."
Oliver nodded.
"Thanks to helping you, I'll be hounded left and right for a while. Barely settled into retirement peace, now shattered—your doing. What agony matches losing one's twilight repose?"
Hard to empathize, but Oliver nodded.
"Plus, I'll have to visit a friend and gripe."
"The Grand Master of the Life School, by chance?"
Oliver asked, recalling Merlin's exchange with Karl.
"Indeed. Bit loose in the head, but a faction leader... Means I must pay respects in person. Utterly tedious and irritating—all thanks to you."
"I see."
"And you've committed further insolence."
"Insolence?"
"Yes. You stirred up that mess without settling your tab. What if you'd died? My credit gone? Reckless and irresponsible. Shame on you."
Merlin waggled a finger like a grandfather scolding a child.
Not the words one expected from a hermit atop a remote crag, but Oliver ignored that and apologized sincerely.
He had, after all, forgotten to pay up.
"I'm sorry. Truly."
"Stiffing someone is grave sin—stealing honest labor's wage... But since you seek pardon, I grant it specially. Pay the 4 million Landa."
"...Wasn't it 3.9 million?"
"I came to collect—travel fee's common sense. Don't rile me."
"Ah... Understood."
"Sigh... Just pay 3.9 million. But now you owe me more. Don't give me that look. That's the adult world. Anyway, I've endured much inconvenience for you."
"Yes, Elder."
"So, I want repayment. If grateful, you'll oblige?"
Oliver nodded and said,
"Give me a little time, and I'll gather the funds."
"What do you take me for? Some moneygrubber fleecing the young?"
"Um... No."
"That hesitation... Anyway, money's not my aim. Not the world's richest, but I've more than any one man needs."
Oliver accepted that. The mansion and golems proved it.
"Then, how can I repay you?"
"Well... First, as a token of sincerity, give me your most precious possession."
At the abrupt demand, Oliver furrowed his brow.
"Age makes one childish, demanding like a kid. Hand over your dearest item. No force, of course—if you refuse, fine."
Pondering Merlin's vague words, Oliver hesitated before offering his quarterstaff.
"...This is my most precious item, for now."
"Looks like a battered, filthy stick."
"Yes, but a gift from my first friend."
"Ah, that explains the antique air—thought it valuable."
"But it's hard to part with."
"Joking?"
"No, truly. It's a gift, but I don't see it as fully mine. Even if I gave it to you, I'd need the original owner's permission first. So, may something else suffice?"
"Hm... Not thrilled, but go on."
Oliver withdrew the quarterstaff and drew a test tube from his pocket.
Inside was a small amount of emotion—Oliver's own.
"What's that...?"
"My emotion."
"Yours?"
"Yes."
Oliver offered the test tube, and Merlin took it.
He examined the emotion with interest and remarked,
"Emotions matter to black mages, but is it truly your most precious?"
"It is to me. First time."
"First?"
"Yes. First extraction without Filterette. Meant to study it, but I'll give it as thanks."
Merlin stared hard at Oliver before saying,
"Fine. Now I'm greedy. Hope you haven't fooled this naive old man."
"Yes."
Merlin pocketed the test tube and continued,
"Now, for more repayment. Greater effort demands greater return. Later? You look beat."
"Honestly, a rest would be nice."
"Lucky me. Then absolutely not—fatigue reveals true nature."
"Ah... Can't be helped, then. What must I do?"
"Spar with me."
"...Pardon?"
Before Oliver could process, Merlin gripped his shoulder and teleported them somewhere.
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