Chapter 354
Chapter 354
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 354
Chapter Title: Arc Orphanage (2)
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A small village near the Arc Orphanage.
On their way to the orphanage after staying the night there, Yareli repeated the warning she had given three times the day before.
"Don't ever make jokes."
Oliver nodded reluctantly, though disappointed.
"Yes, I understand..."
"Phew... Good."
Yareli nodded in genuine relief.
However, Oliver couldn't quite let it go and asked once more.
"But why can't I make jokes?"
"The fact that you're asking why is exactly why you shouldn't."
Yareli stated firmly once again, her words carrying a powerful resolve.
The idea that he, of all people—a man who studied humor books for thirty minutes every night before bed—should never joke was hard to swallow.
"I've learned that Galos jokes are racist and offensive, so excluding those, it should be fine, right?"
"Do you remember the inn joke you told at the inn we stayed at yesterday?"
"Yes. That was one of my proudest ones."
"That's exactly why you can't."
Yareli shook her head as if there were simply no hope for him.
He had no idea why, but in the face of Yareli's unyielding attitude, Oliver had no choice but to give up.
She was the one who was supposed to act as interpreter from the start, after all...
"No helping it, then... Still, I'm glad you came along, Yareli. I didn't expect to need an interpreter."
"I didn't expect it either. To think someone who doesn't even speak Galos would come here all alone."
Yareli recalled the events of the previous day.
Oliver had come to Galos without knowing a lick of the language—not even considering the obvious necessity.
Because of that, when they arrived in the village, he couldn't even secure a room on his own and had to rely on her help.
"I thought everyone in the world spoke the kingdom tongue. All the people I met in Lake Village did."
Oliver said it shamelessly, sounding just like those old right-wing politicians from extreme parties who claimed the United Kingdom was the world's greatest nation and that all the second-rate countries beneath it had better shut up and learn the kingdom language mandatorily.
Yareli was dumbfounded.
"Everyone at Lake Village was highly educated—mages, no less."
"So all mages are fluent in the kingdom tongue?"
"Those who've received formal training... Magic has developed the most in the kingdom—precisely in Landa within the kingdom. The language of any scholarly field inevitably follows the nation where that field advanced the furthest."
"Ah... That makes sense. Another thing learned."
Oliver expressed his gratitude, delighted at having picked up a new fact.
Watching him, Yareli felt an emotion she couldn't quite put into words.
She had come along to gauge him at her grandmother's behest, but the longer she spent in his company, the harder he became to read.
He showed no sign of a black mage's temperament, yet he casually dropped chilling remarks now and then.
His sense of humor consisted solely of black comedy laced with discrimination and cynicism, and yet his attitude was remarkably proactive.
Two utterly contrasting sides coexisted within him. It didn't seem like an act. Both felt like his genuine self, intertwined naturally.
"Maybe it's only natural..."
Yareli thought back to Xenon's usual demeanor.
He was the sort who never uttered a single complaint amid the students' disdain or the unfair task assignments from other Magic Tower staff.
That wasn't something one could endure through mere patience or pretense.
"It's precisely because that's his true nature that he could do it. Even then, outside the tower, he operated as the fixer Dave amid all those grim rumors."
Yareli recalled the fixer Dave, whose existence her grandmother had told her about.
The Dave who had suddenly appeared in Landa's underworld—a place even Magic Tower mages acknowledged as brutal—and performed feats beyond any one person's scope.
He wasn't just strong; he was a master tactician who could negotiate head-on with the Crime Firm. His contributions to the city had forged an unofficial alliance, a fact well-known to those in the know.
The man drew attention from both the shadows and the light.
Xenon and Dave—like a pair of split personalities.
Honestly, Yareli still couldn't fully accept that they were the same person. She merely understood it because the truth was staring her in the face.
That was why, on the journey here, she kept probing with questions.
Both to fulfill her grandmother's orders and out of her own desire to understand the man who was Xenon... and Dave.
"Of course, it's only making things more confusing."
"That looks like it."
Oliver suddenly spoke up, snapping Yareli out of her reverie.
Returning to reality at his call, Yareli looked at a building perched on the hillside above the village.
It wasn't comparable to the mansions of Landa's upper crust, but it was a respectable size—befitting the home of the village's notable resident.
"Qu'est-ce?"
As Oliver and Yareli drew near the building, a voice called out.
The source was on the rooftop: an elderly woman with short gray hair tied back.
She appeared to be in her fifties and looked quite healthy for her age, compared to the women Oliver usually saw.
"Just like in the photo."
Oliver thought back to the picture Carver had given him.
Carver, who had become the city's interior minister thanks to the Shamus ABC case, had looked into the Arc Orphanage for Oliver, who had aided him.
This included information on the orphans, the staff, and even the director.
"Are you Director Amelin?"
Oliver called up to the roof, and Yareli translated into Galos.
A reply came from the rooftop—in an unexpected language.
"Yes. Are you two young folks from the United Kingdom?"
"You speak the kingdom tongue?"
"A little. One moment."
The director of the Arc Orphanage, Amelin, descended via the ladder on the side.
She was clearly no spring chicken, but she moved without any apparent discomfort, her physique well-maintained.
"I've been studying it lately."
Amelin spoke clearly and precisely.
"But I don't know any kingdom folk. Who might you two be?"
Oliver was caught off guard by the unexpected development. Carver's intel hadn't mentioned her knowing the kingdom tongue.
She must have picked it up very recently.
"We're from Landa in the United Kingdom."
"Landa... You mean the free city of Landa?"
Amelin asked kindly, her face lighting up with pleasure.
"Yes."
"Oh... How nice. I even know a child there. But what brings two young people from Landa all the way here?"
Oliver glanced at Yareli and recalled the script they'd rehearsed at the inn the night before.
"We're acquaintances of Saint Knight Joanna."
Tak.
Director Amelin of the Arc Orphanage had invited Oliver and Yareli to her office and personally served them coffee.
From the smell, it didn't seem like high-quality beans.
"Thank you. The coffee is delicious."
Oliver took a sip and offered his thanks. He'd been taught to praise whatever the host served, no matter what it was.
"I'm glad you think so."
It seemed he'd said the right thing; the director smiled and took a seat across from them.
Despite her advanced age, she was healthy enough to repair the roof herself, exuding a refined maturity and calm demeanor.
She had a distinctly different air from the orphanage directors Oliver had known.
"You say you know Joanna, that child?"
"Yes... More precisely, she helped me out."
Oliver twisted the story just enough to make it work. It was a lie, but not an outright one, so it didn't weigh too heavily on him.
"Thanks to her, I was able to step out into the wider world, so it's true in a sense."
"That's remarkable. To think someone who knows that girl across the sea would come here..."
"I happened to be in the area. I had some time, so I took the liberty of visiting."
"No, not at all—don't worry about it. I'm just pleased."
The director's sincerity shone through.
"But how do mages come to know her? Do saint knights and mages get along well in Landa?"
"Ah, strictly speaking, we're not official mages. I'm just a staff member, and she's a student. And no, they don't mingle much. We just happened to cross paths."
Amelin blinked her wrinkled eyelids, her expression tinged with nostalgia... and a hint of guilt.
It was all directed toward Joanna.
"...I see. What sort of help did she give you? Nothing dangerous, I hope?"
"No, nothing like that. Just... she gave me some advice."
"Advice?"
"Yes. I was悩悩 over something when we met by chance, and she offered guidance. It helped me a great deal."
Relieved by his words—a clever blend of truth and fabrication—the director sighed in relief.
"That's a relief. I've been worried about her out there in a foreign land, but it's good to hear she's doing well."
Oliver felt an uncomfortable twinge, like a pebble lodged in his shoe, at the sight of her genuine relief.
"By any chance, do you know if she's still faring well? I've heard Landa is as rough as it is wealthy."
"......?"
Oliver tilted his head. There was a slip in her words.
The director seemed to believe Joanna was still in Landa.
Oliver and Yareli exchanged glances.
"Well..."
-Rrr. Rrr.
Someone knocked on the office door just as Oliver opened his mouth to reply.
"Come in," the director said, and a black-haired girl pushed the door open.
"Director."
"What is it? We have guests."
As the two conversed, Oliver focused his eyes to read their emotions.
The director harbored affection and a sense of responsibility toward the child—not annoyance, calculation, anger, or hatred.
The black-haired girl, in turn, held respect, trust, and affection for the director—not fear, anger, hatred, or ulterior motives.
To see this in an orphanage...
"Ah, sorry, Director... It's just, the pump in the back is broken. I think we need to call someone."
Amelin let out a sigh.
"Ahh... Acting up again, huh? Well, it's about as old as I am. This is troubling... For now, send someone to the village. We'll use the stored water—"
"Director."
Oliver, having heard the translation from Yareli, raised a hand and cautiously interjected. All eyes turned to him.
"If it's all right, could I take a look at it?"
"Waouh, super!"
In the garden behind the Arc Orphanage.
Oliver was there, sleeves rolled up, repairing the pump.
A child who looked about seven or eight years old watched in admiration.
"What did she say?"
"She said it's amazing."
Yareli translated from the side.
"Could you tell her I'm thankful for the praise?"
At his request, Yareli relayed Oliver's words to the child.
The kids whispered to each other and giggled, apparently finding his reaction amusing.
Their expressions, gestures, voices, emotional states... All the children living here felt worlds apart from the orphans Oliver knew.
Overall, they were bright and lively.
"All done with the repairs."
Oliver said as he organized the tools he'd borrowed from the orphanage.
The director immediately tested the pump herself, and water soon gushed out.
"Impressive. When did you learn something like this?"
Yareli asked in admiration.
Oliver nearly blurted out that he'd picked it up while installing machinery to brew the elixir of blood but decided against it and gave a vague answer.
"I just happened to learn it somewhere."
"Ah... I see."
Yareli replied, a flicker of suspicion in her eyes. He'd thought his cover was seamless, so he wondered where the doubt had crept in.
As Oliver and Yareli stared at each other in silence, the director stepped in.
"Thank you for the help. We were in a real bind, but you've saved us."
"I'm glad I could be of assistance."
Hearing his response, the director stared at Oliver for a moment before asking a question.
"...By any chance, were you two planning to leave today?"
Oliver and Yareli hadn't even considered it and exchanged looks.
It was only natural. Yareli had merely tagged along with Oliver, and Oliver hadn't thought beyond simply coming here.
Oliver tilted his head as he replied.
"Who knows?"
The director smiled softly.
"In that case, how about staying the night here? I'd like some help with the roof repairs and such."
"Oh... That's a great idea."