Chapter 41
Chapter 41
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 41
Chapter Title: Cleanup (3)
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Knock knock.
The sound of someone rapping on the door.
Oliver, who was reading a book in the study, answered without even turning his head.
"Come in. Marie."
The moment permission was granted, Marie creaked the door open and stepped inside.
In one hand, she carried a tray with a sandwich.
"Good day, Master."
"Yes... What is it?"
"You haven't eaten, so I brought something."
Oliver slightly turned his head to glance at Marie.
"......Thank you."
Marie smiled as if it were nothing and set the tray down.
Along with it, she peeked at the book Oliver was reading.
It was a book from the Anthony Family, and stacks of various others surrounded it.
"......Why are you doing that?"
"Oh, I was just curious what book you're reading. Sorry."
"No... I'm reading a black magic book from the Anthony Family. It's got a good rundown on manipulation-type black magic. Things like animal control, human control, corpse control."
"Don't you already know how to do that, Master?"
"No... I'm just mimicking it. I don't really know how it works. For example, I learned from the book that controlling the living is harder than the dead, and humans are harder than animals."
Oliver placed his hand on a book from the Dominic Family as he continued.
"I also learned that disease-type black magic has all sorts of applications depending on interpretation and use."
"Impressive as always."
"Not really. Looking at your books, Master, it seems like there's so much more knowledge, but unfortunately, these only have traces—no proper explanations."
Oliver said this while eyeing the bookshelves packed around him.
"I-is that so... Have you read almost all of them?"
"Not quite all, but nearly. I'll finish soon."
"Ah... Aren't you pushing yourself too hard?"
"Pardon? What do you mean?"
"You've been skipping proper meals and sleep lately. I'm worried."
"...? Did I fail to do my job properly?"
"No, absolutely not! Quite the opposite! Everyone truly respects you...!"
Marie poured out her words in a passionate outburst.
"Everyone's struggling, but they genuinely respect you. Why wouldn't they? You've given us real education, money, meals—everything we dreamed of... Just go to the dining hall and you'll see. You really are... amazing."
"......I'm glad to hear that."
Oliver responded flatly and returned to his book.
It was a perfectly predictable reaction. From his perspective, he hadn't done it to earn respect or love.
It was simply a sense of duty for doing his job.
Freed from tedious chores, becoming a master who could issue necessary orders—that was the bare minimum obligation.
Thus, Oliver wasn't particularly thrilled by the respect and loyalty he gained.
He had only done what was naturally expected...
Marie's frustration grew at Oliver's indifferent response.
Part of it was exasperation that he didn't grasp how monumental his achievements were,
but also the sting that she herself wasn't valued as someone equally significant to him.
That frustration deepened, soon twisting into negative forms: anxiety, obsession, longing, self-loathing, and... thwack!
"Marie."
Oliver suddenly closed his book.
Marie startled and replied.
"Yes? Master..."
"Come to think of it, we had a promise, didn't we?"
A promise? Marie thought back. Then she remembered.
"Ah... Yes, you said we'd talk."
Marie's pale face flushed bright red.
Back then, she'd unwittingly whined to Oliver when he showed interest in the holy knight. What had she been thinking...
Still, Marie harbored some expectation.
Maybe she could share something special with Oliver...
"Promises should be kept... But before we talk, can I ask you something?"
"Yes... Master."
"Why do you want to know about me, Marie?"
A pure question of curiosity. Yet, one that was incredibly hard to answer.
Marie fell silent for a long while.
Even she couldn't figure out how to respond to that innocent query.
As the silence dragged on, Oliver interpreted it differently and spoke.
"Well, if you don't want to say—"
"—No!"
Marie blurted out loudly without thinking.
"No... It's not that I don't want to say... Could you wait just a moment for my answer?"
"......Sure. Take your time."
Oliver waited as promised. After a long pause, Marie finally spoke.
"I... want to be your close aide, Master."
"My close aide?"
"Yes. I want to serve right by your side."
"......Like a direct disciple?"
It was right in a way, but also wrong.
Marie did want that position, but something more. She just couldn't voice it.
"You might not realize it, Master, but no one's helped me like you have."
"Me?"
"Yes... You're the only one who's taught me black magic and trained me this much."
"...? But I taught you in exchange for you teaching me to read, right?"
"......Even so, those aren't comparable."
"Value is relative, isn't it?"
"Still, it was an immense help to me. I had basically given up. On becoming a black mage. But thanks to you, it went from a vague hope to a clear one. Thank you so much."
"......Well, you saved my life once too, thanks to you. No need to be so grateful. Besides, your first step to becoming a black mage was thanks to Master, right?"
"Master...? Are you talking about Joseph?"
"Yes, Master Joseph."
At Joseph's mention, Marie's emotions flickered with confusion, then erupted into anger.
"Sure, he helped and took me in... but he can't compare to you."
"To me?"
"Yes! He kept me stuck as a temporary disciple because my talent was lacking! If you hadn't come, I'd have spent my life just prepping meals in the kitchen!"
Marie panted heavily. Her excitement mirrored the betrayal and rage churning inside.
But it was fleeting. Seeing Oliver calmed her instantly.
"So, you're the one who truly helped me, Oliver."
Her words carried desperate earnestness. Yet Oliver's response remained lukewarm.
Unable to understand or empathize.
"Hmm... Still, wasn't it Master Joseph who took you in?"
"Didn't you say it yourself, Oliver? He planned to sacrifice us to the devil! He was just using us!"
"Is that so? Well, he did help you, fact is... Oh, and when those thugs nearly raped you, Master Joseph saved you, didn't he?"
Marie was stunned. Her eyes widened, emotions surging.
"......"
"Ah... Did I mess up?"
"......How did you know that?"
"Master Joseph mentioned it in passing when we met in Landa."
Marie let out a small groan, as if a deeply buried shame had been exposed.
Her feelings tangled: displeasure, shame, anger, injustice. Oliver silently observed.
He sensed he'd erred somehow, but not what.
"If I was wrong, I'll apologize again."
"......No. No need to apologize. You're my master, and it's true... I've told you about my past before, right?"
"Yes... You said you wanted to become a black mage to get strong."
"Yes... That's right. My parents and I were all so weak."
With that, Marie began her own story.
About living in the illegal shantytown under the dye factory.
How they couldn't complain even when filthy sewage was dumped right next to their home,
couldn't speak when her mother collapsed from illegal labor,
couldn't do a thing when her father was beaten to death by local thugs.
Eventually, she'd gone for revenge, only to nearly suffer something horrific herself.
She started calmly, but as the tale unfolded, her emotions built until tears welled in her eyes.
"......That's how Joseph took me in, and now I'm here."
"......I see."
"Yes. I once thought of him as my savior, but after time passed and hearing your words, I realized it was a delusion."
"......That's unfortunate?"
"No, don't say that. It led me to you."
"......"
"In the end, what I mean is: you gave me a new chance at life, so I want to be close to you and serve you. That's... all."
"......I see."
"......So, will you tell me your story now, Master?"
"Pardon?"
"I've shared mine. I want to hear yours... Can't I?"
Oliver paused briefly.
"......No. I don't have much to say, but if you want, I'll tell you."
"Please do. I want to hear it."
"Alright, then..."
And so Oliver began his tale.
Starting from his orphanage days.
How many children were there, how strict the director was—he recited it emotionlessly.
His mechanical recounting felt more like listing dormitory rules than a person's life,
yet Marie listened with rapt attention, grieving and raging more than anyone when he mentioned bullying or unfair punishments.
Though the subject himself felt nothing.
There wasn't much substance, but Oliver detailed his life as Marie wished.
Still, he couldn't cover a whole day in one go, so Marie visited the study daily like clockwork, hearing more—like a moth drawn to flame.
Meanwhile, time flowed on, and Oliver's Joseph Family gradually stabilized.
Before long, Peter and several high-grade disciples naturally synthesized emotions, reaching the level to produce Filterettes without Oliver.
"Ah, so you could see emotions from the start?"
"Yes, I thought everyone could, but no. That's why I was glad to see you, Master."
"Ah..."
Marie and the other high-grade disciples soon synced up enough to handle Oliver to some degree.
Proof: They could now suppress ordinary gangs and mid-tier black mages even without him.
"Ah... So the Filterette you smoked back then had Joseph's emotions?"
"Yes, it was a beautifully glowing emotion."
"You're still interested in that light."
"Yes, I haven't fully figured it out yet... I want to see it again."
"......If you wish, just order it. We'll risk our lives to find it and offer it to you... Yes. Just command us. This is your Family, Oliver."
"Hmm, that's not really..."
"No. We are your disciples. Command anything you desire. We'll stake our lives on it."
"......"
Time passed into autumn.
Loyalty to Oliver strengthened the organization's bonds,
and small black mage groups, unable to hold out, cast aside all pride and knelt to Oliver via the Pharmacist.
The Joseph Family truly became Wineham's sole black mage family.
Overjoyed beyond measure, Marie rose from bed.
She washed, dressed, and went to wake Oliver as usual.
Her exclusive privilege.
Knock knock.
"Master. Time to wake up."
No reply came. Normally, he'd say, "Got it, Marie."
Sensing something off, Marie opened the door and peered in.
Her eyes fell on the empty bed and a note atop it.
[I no longer need you all, so I'm leaving.]
[P.S., Do what you've always wanted to do.]