Chapter 22
Chapter 22
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 22
Chapter Title: The Call (1)
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The Pharmacist had left his subordinates on the surface and descended underground alone.
Ah, correction... He wasn't entirely alone. Oliver, Joseph's proxy, was guiding him.
Just then, he opened a sealed box of Filterettes and inspected the contents.
"Hm, production seems to be going smoothly, just as you said. You're managing it better than I expected."
"It's thanks to everyone else working hard."
"Everyone else? Ah, you mean the other disciples?"
"Yes."
The Pharmacist let out a small chuckle.
"That's interesting. I've never met a black magician who refers to their subordinates as 'everyone else.' You're quite polite."
Oliver didn't bother responding. It wasn't so much politeness as a habit. And he was well aware of it.
The Pharmacist pulled out a cigarette case filled with Filterettes and opened it.
He gazed at the Filterettes, which looked identical to ordinary cigarettes sold on the market, then carefully brought it to his nose and sniffed.
"Sniff. Sniff."
The Pharmacist's twitching nose and coldly gleaming eyes.
Oliver observed the scene silently.
Judging the quality of Filterettes by smell alone, without looking... It was somewhat intriguing.
"Hm, hm. This batch is pretty good too... It should sell well even in Randa. Do you happen to know where these cigarettes are sold?"
"...I heard they're sold to other pharmacies and hospitals that deal with you, sir."
"You know your stuff. That's right. We mix them in with other medicines and supply them to major hospitals and pharmacies in Randa. Your product has solid enough quality to pass there. It's mostly high-income white-collar workers buried under heavy workloads, capitalists, and artists who buy them. Funny, isn't it? Those people see you folks as society's cancer, yet they love your product more than anyone."
"Is that so?"
Oliver replied as if he couldn't care less. And he truly didn't.
Seeing Oliver's reaction, the Pharmacist could only give a wry smile.
"You're awfully dry about it. No curiosity at all? About how I distribute this medicine?"
"...Actually, I'd like to ask something else, if I may."
"Something else? Go ahead."
"Can you judge the quality just by smelling it?"
"That's right. My eyesight isn't as good as yours. But I can gauge the quality in other ways. Handling medicine is my livelihood, after all. You've got to be able to do at least that much."
Hoo... Oliver didn't show it, but he was intrigued.
Distinguishing Filterette quality by scent. It wasn't something he needed right now, but it was a skill worth having.
Maybe he could even smell emotions with it?
As if reading his thoughts, the Pharmacist asked,
"Interested?"
"...Yes."
"Want me to teach you? Some of my staff can do it too."
The words "Please teach me" stopped just short of leaving his mouth.
He genuinely wanted to learn, but no matter how he thought about it, getting Joseph's permission first seemed like the proper order.
The Pharmacist smiled as if he knew all about it.
"If you get Joseph's approval, I'll teach you. For real."
"Thank you."
"In return, answer my question?"
"Pardon?"
"It wouldn't be fair if I were the only one giving favors. Give and take is the rule of the world."
"Ah... So what should I answer?"
The Pharmacist held up a Filterette.
"Do you think this product is excellent? Honestly, from your perspective?"
The Pharmacist's eyes sharpened, and his ambiguous emotions flickered subtly.
"...Yes. It's the Master's creation, after all. I think it's excellent. You said it's a good product yourself, didn't you?"
"Ah, true... But as a businessman, I also want to handle even better products. Especially lately, with competition heating up in this market."
"Ah... I'll mention it to Master."
"No need. I was just asking out of curiosity... Anyway, you think it's excellent?"
"Well... yes."
"Got it... Well then, I should get going. I've checked on production, so no need to stick around. It was nice meeting you."
The Pharmacist extended his hand. It was the first time someone had offered a handshake, and Oliver stared at it for a moment before grasping it.
The Pharmacist gave the benevolent smile typical of a middle-aged man.
"Nice meeting you. See you next time. If you ever need help, just say the word. I'll assist if it's within my power."
Oliver looked him straight in the eye and replied,
"Yes, I'll keep that in mind."
After the Pharmacist left, things returned to the usual routine.
They rose early in the morning, ate, and low-, mid-, and high-grade disciples worked together to produce Filterettes.
Production wrapped up without a hitch, as expected. They packaged them with the pre-made life tonics and delivered to the Pharmacist.
Thus, the most important task Joseph had assigned was safely completed.
After that, they spent their days as usual, waiting for Joseph to return.
The temporary disciples ground meat into sausages, while low-, mid-, and high-grade disciples studied black magic on their own.
To Oliver, it seemed terribly lax and inefficient, but since he had no authority over it, he didn't bother interfering.
Besides, Oliver had his own tasks.
"Hm...!"
Oliver was reviewing the diary when he let out a groan, as if discovering something.
Marie, watching from beside him, asked,
"What's wrong, Oliver?"
"I think I've finally found it."
"Pardon?"
"The difference between the lightning magician and us. We both had unfortunate pasts and wished for better lives, but the magician had one more goal."
"What was it?"
"After being kicked out of the family that adopted him as a foster child, he aimed for success to prove it to them—to show he was better. And the name... To confess again to a woman named Rachel. Rachel."
Oliver pointed to a passage in the diary as he spoke.
It described a woman named Rachel. Though he tried to hide it, there was intense affection... obsession beyond mere love.
Oliver hypothesized that this goal, transcending simple success, was the source of the lightning magician's radiant light.
Not mere material abundance, but a spiritual reason—or something greater—that made it shine so beautifully.
Oliver's mind raced with questions and answers. Then Marie asked,
"It must have left quite an impression on you..."
"Pardon?"
"The light the lightning magician showed... You seem obsessed with finding it."
Oliver answered without much thought.
"Yes, it was truly beautiful."
Marie's expression twitched faintly.
A flicker of jealousy rose in her emotions, but Oliver couldn't understand why. Nor did he care.
She spoke again.
"...Still, times like this when you can relax don't come often. Don't you think you should study black magic in the library sometimes?"
"Only direct disciples can use the library, and I'm not one. Besides, even direct disciples can't during trips."
"I know. But some high-grade disciples, like Andrew, sneak in sometimes. With Master away, it should be fine, right?"
Marie's words weren't wrong. Given the Family's hands-off approach to education, seizing opportunities to gain knowledge was beneficial.
But Oliver's response was firm.
"Hm... Not really. Rules are rules. Besides, that light interests me more right now."
His resolute tone and gaze made Marie lower her eyes like a guilty child.
"Ah... S-sorry. I spoke out of turn..."
"No... Anyway, can I ask you something?"
"Ah, yes. Anything."
"It's break time. Why are you here?"
Oliver asked out of genuine curiosity.
During personal time, people usually rested or studied alone, but lately Marie stuck close outside of practice—and now she was by his side almost every day.
"I-In case you need help... Thanks to you, I became a formal disciple. I want to repay you somehow... Am I bothering you?"
Marie gazed at him with pleading eyes, like a child seeking approval.
Oliver caught the desperate affection in her gaze, but sadly, he couldn't fathom why.
After a brief silence, as her heart wavered with anxiety, Oliver replied.
"Not really. Stay if you want."
Marie beamed happily, like a child spared from abandonment.
Oliver turned back to her diary, resuming his hypotheses.
To uncover the source of the beautiful light the lightning magician had shown at death.
His intense curiosity evoked the image of a moth drawn to flame.
Marie ventured,
"Um, Oliver?"
"Yes?"
"Would my story help, perhaps?"
"Your story?"
"Yes, mine... I mentioned it a little before..."
Marie said shyly.
Oliver recalled it. She was pretty, sure... But that was then.
Compared to the light from the magician, it paled.
"Didn't you not want to talk about it?"
"I didn't... but maybe it could help..."
"No, it's fine."
Oliver refused. He didn't want to waste time on something uninteresting.
Marie looked hurt again, but then came a knock at the door.
"Oliver?"
"Yes?"
Oliver, absorbed in the diary and theorizing, responded.
"Master sent a letter. For you."
"...Pardon?"
Oliver stopped what he was doing and asked again. A letter?
Oliver took the freshly arrived letter envelope and examined it.
The envelope had a blue border line, with a stamp in the upper right corner depicting a woman wearing a crown.
Beneath it was the logo: [Great Kingdom Postal Service].
Having never received a letter before, Oliver studied the envelope for a moment before tearing it open with a rustle and reading the contents.
"..."
"...Um, what does it say?"
The high-grade disciple who delivered it asked.
"Hold on."
Oliver reread the letter from the beginning.
After a long while, he finally spoke.
"It says to come?"
"Pardon?"
"Andrew's treatment costs are short, so bring money and come to Randa? From Master."