Chapter 21
Chapter 21
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 21
Chapter Title: Rest? (2)
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Oliver opened his eyes mechanically.
He glanced at the clock. It was the usual time.
The only difference was that this was a private room for high-grade disciples, so there was no one else around.
It was comfortable and quiet—the dream of every Family member—but unfortunately, Oliver didn't feel much joy in this room.
Of course, he couldn't deny that it was warmer and more convenient to live in, but personally, it was something he could take or leave.
He was just staying here because the rules said high-grade disciples should.
Sometimes, he even thought the communal dorms with everyone else were better.
At least there, he could glimpse all sorts of emotions the moment he woke up, so it was never boring...
No, let me correct that.
A few days ago, he definitely felt that regret, but not anymore.
When he focused his eyes, he could peer into the emotions of people in other rooms beyond the walls. Faintly, but still.
This strengthening of his eyes had started a few days after returning from the battle with the magician and getting some solid rest.
At first, it was just a sense that someone was there beyond the wall, but after Joseph left, it grew stronger.
He went from barely sensing a vague presence to actually reading faint emotions, and now he could even catch brief glimpses of people's feelings across multiple walls in other rooms.
An utterly unexpected change. But it was so intriguing that every morning, Oliver focused his eyes on other people's emotions as soon as he woke up.
Part of it was the fun of using the power, but it also felt like his eyes were improving the more he practiced.
"Hm..."
As fatigue gathered in his eyes, Oliver rubbed the bridge of his nose.
That was enough for today.
Oliver relaxed his eyes, got out of bed, washed up at the sink in the corner of the room, and then pulled out the magician's diary from under the bed.
Since becoming a high-grade disciple exempted him from chores like cleaning, he had a bit more time in the mornings, allowing him to do this. He made the most of it, reading through the magician's diary.
He had read it countless times already, but he kept going, recalling that faint yet beautiful light he had seen.
Maybe he'd find some clue.
"......"
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Knock— knock—
Oliver looked up. A voice came from beyond the door.
"Oh, Oliver?"
"Yes?"
"It's mealtime... After eating, we have to start work right away. Is everything all right?"
Oliver checked the clock. Sure enough, it was mealtime.
He had lost track of time reading the diary. He quickly stowed it under the bed and replied.
"Sorry. I'll be right there."
"Ah, yes. Yes. Thank you."
The voice outside stammered awkwardly.
The owner was a high-grade disciple who harbored resentment and jealousy toward Oliver, but his fear outweighed it, so he served him well.
Oliver dressed, stepped out, ate, and immediately put everyone to work producing Filterettes for delivery to the Pharmacist.
He assigned the low-grade disciples to tear open the cigarettes, collect the processed etched smoke, and stuff the finished etched smoke into empty cigarettes.
The mid-grade disciples handled the first and second distillation of the herbal extract.
Finally, the high-grade disciples took care of fully infusing the emotions into the herbal extract through processing.
Oliver joined the mid-grade disciples in their task of making the second distillation.
One of the mid-grade disciples working alongside him spoke up.
"We could handle these chores ourselves, you know?"
"Ah, I want to do it. Even though I'm a high-grade disciple now, I haven't fully mastered this process yet... Am I in the way?"
The mid-grade disciple's eyes widened at Oliver's question, and he shook his head and hands vigorously.
"No, no...! How could you be in the way? It's just... It feels improper for Oliver, who acts as the Master's proxy, to do this kind of work."
Oliver checked the mid-grade disciple's emotions.
There was a mix of fear and discomfort, but it was mostly true...
Suddenly, a question occurred to him.
Oliver glanced at the low-grade disciples doing the prep work, the mid-grade ones extracting the distillate, and the high-grade disciple at the end of the workshop applying black magic to the processed distillate.
"I-I won't disturb you anymore. Then..."
As Oliver continued working, he asked,
"Hey."
"Yes!?"
The mid-grade disciple responded loudly, as if he thought he'd done something wrong. He looked scared, but Oliver made a calming gesture and asked,
"Mind if I ask you something?"
"Pardon? Ask me?"
"Yes, a question."
"If it's something I can answer..."
"How did you end up here?"
After that, Oliver helped with various stages of Filterette production, casually slipping questions to those in charge.
How they ended up here. What their lives were like before.
He couldn't explain why. If he had to, it was just a hunch.
A hunch that hearing their stories would help him better understand the lightning magician's diary.
Most were wary of Oliver's sudden questions, but he didn't press them. He just asked them to share whatever they felt comfortable with.
No one could refuse too much when it was Oliver, wearing Joseph's proxy title, and their backgrounds were all uniformly bleak and poor.
In other words, ordinary.
Absorbed in their stories and the work, he realized the production was nearly done before he knew it.
"Hm..."
Oliver checked the paperwork with the production quota, then looked at the finished cigarette packs in front of him.
Most had emotions well-infused, but a few were subpar.
"Those, those, and those two—they're comparatively low quality. Is that okay?"
The high-grade disciple assisting him answered.
"Which ones do you mean?"
"Those, those, that one, and that one."
"One moment."
The high-grade disciple picked up the packs Oliver pointed out and examined them closely.
No one else could spot it as easily as Oliver. After checking, he spoke.
"They seem fine."
"Really?"
At Oliver's innocent question, the high-grade disciple swallowed hard.
"Uh... Yes. Some quality variation in the process is unavoidable. The Master said this level is acceptable."
Joseph's name came up, so Oliver dropped it.
If Joseph said it was fine, there was no point arguing.
Personally, he was a little dissatisfied. Selling products without proper emotional infusion felt off. What was the word? Icky.
That nagging sense of not finishing the job right.
No, even the rest of this batch left him somewhat unsatisfied.
It was novel at first, but once he understood the process and principles, it didn't impress him as much.
A few changes to the method could make something much better.
For example, what if he mixed emotions? Combining different types could amplify them.
Even lower-grade emotions could yield great products that way.
Lost in such thoughts, he heard the high-grade disciple.
"Um... Oliver?"
"Yes?"
"Can we package them like this?"
"Ah, yes. Go ahead."
With permission granted, the high-grade disciple ordered the low-grade disciples to pack the cigarette packs—five or six at a time—neatly into boxes.
"This should meet the delivery deadline comfortably, right?"
"Yes, not super early, but with time to spare."
Oliver nodded in satisfaction. He hadn't sought the proxy role, but since he had it, he wanted to do it flawlessly.
There were his relationship with Joseph and the black magic lessons, but above all, it was a promise.
"You can rest now, Oliver."
"Is that okay?"
"Yes, as I said last time, this is all the Master's proxy needs to do."
Oliver nodded.
"Got it. Please handle cleanup."
As Oliver turned to leave, the high-grade disciple suddenly asked,
"Um, if it's all right, could I ask you something?"
"...What?"
Oliver stared blankly, and the high-grade disciple looked uneasy as he replied.
"N-No, it's just... You were asking everyone today how they ended up here. Could I ask why?"
"Hm... Why are you curious?"
"No one ever asks that, so I was wondering..."
His emotions twisted unnaturally. A lie.
Why lie? Oliver had a hunch. Probably to report to Joseph.
He trusted everyone yet trusted no one—a contradictory man.
Oliver answered.
"Just curious."
"Ah..."
"I heard how Marie and Peter got here a while back, so I got curious about everyone else's stories."
"I see..."
The high-grade disciple nodded, seemingly convinced.
Oliver asked,
"Anything else you're wondering?"
"No, no. Sorry for bothering you."
"No problem. Let me know if you need anything."
Oliver headed back to his room.
The stories of the lightning magician and black magicians had some similarities.
A fateful chance encounter in their past. Nothing groundbreaking for Oliver, but he noted the parallels.
The question remained: Why didn't the black magicians emit that same light when they died?
Recalling the stories he'd heard, Oliver reached for the magician's diary again.
Maybe he'd find the difference between the magician and black magicians—the source of that beautiful light.
Excitement welled up inside him.
If he could see that light again...
"-Oliver! Oliver!"
Marie appeared out of nowhere, calling him urgently.
He snapped back to reality and asked what was wrong.
She replied,
"You need to come out now."
"What's going on?"
"The Pharmacist... The Pharmacist's here."
Oliver went up to the factory with Marie and saw the Pharmacist, who had arrived with his subordinates.
His half-bald gray hair and gold-rimmed glasses were his trademarks, announcing his presence. Spotting Oliver, he approached with a warm greeting.
"What a pleasant surprise."
Oliver bowed politely.
"Hello, Pharmacist."
"Good to see you too. First time since you took down that magician lackey, right? Feeling okay?"
"Yes... But what brings you here?"
"Nothing major. Delivery's coming up, so I stopped by to check. Where's Joseph?"
"The Master stepped out for a bit. I'm filling in for now."
"Really? Impressive. By age or seniority, you're the rookie, yet here you are as Joseph's proxy."
"Just got lucky."
"Luck's a skill these days."
Oliver tilted his head. He couldn't figure out why the Pharmacist was really here.
He claimed it was for the delivery and to see Joseph, but his snakelike, twisting emotions said otherwise.
Oliver tossed out some bait.
"...Production's going smoothly, so no need to worry."
"Good to hear. Still, I'm a worrier, so mind showing me?"
At that moment, the Pharmacist's emotions gleamed coldly. Like a predator spotting prey.
"...Yes, of course."