Chapter 67
Chapter 67
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ace
Chapter: 67
Chapter Title: World Tree (1)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
The old man's appearance was quite shabby.
Of course, Oliver wasn't the type to care about such things, but even objectively speaking, it was shabby.
At least compared to Forrest, who ran the restaurant.
A worn-out old coat, sunken cheeks, a bald pate like a peeled egg, and long side hair... He even reminded Oliver a bit of Kant. Then the old man spoke up again.
"Come... to see the books?"
Snapping out of it, Oliver finally replied.
"Ah, yes... Do you have any particular books, sir?"
Sir. The word made the old man burst into a hearty "Ha-hat!"
"...?"
"Oh, sorry about that. It's been so long since anyone called me 'sir'... And here you are, a young man with such fine manners... I've got all sorts of books. Collecting them was a hobby of mine in my younger days. Care to take a look?"
The old man gestured to the small bookstore behind him.
It was a cramped space wedged between shops, looking dark, narrow, and dusty.
No wonder no one came here, even with the bustling traditional market nearby.
But fortunately, Oliver didn't mind such things.
Dark, narrow, dusty places had been part of his previous life, after all.
If anything, he was more interested in the books crammed inside.
Not to mention the old bookstore owner who had, for a fleeting moment, exuded an enormous surge of mana.
So Oliver nodded and stepped into the shop.
"Mind if I take a look around?"
"Of course, young fellow. Take your time."
In response to the old man's kindness, Oliver bowed his head in thanks. Kindness deserved kindness in return, after all.
The narrow bookstore was even tinier inside than it had appeared from outside—barely enough room for one person to squeeze through.
Anyone with a slightly larger build would feel suffocated right away.
But Oliver paid it no mind. Pretending to browse the books, he focused his eyes on the old man.
Honestly, nothing stood out.
His emotional state was as ordinary as any merchant's, with no trace of the mana he'd sensed from lightning mages or magic tools.
As if that immense power from moments ago had been a mere illusion.
Yet Oliver could confidently say it wasn't.
No one could mistake a typhoon for an illusion.
Mana of that magnitude—he didn't think he could beat it in his current state.
"Not finding anything interesting, young fellow?"
The bookstore owner suddenly asked.
Caught off guard as if busted browsing, Oliver replied.
"No, they're all books I've never seen before, so they're a bit unfamiliar... Huh?"
While scanning the hardcovers with their stiff fonts and bland titles, one thing caught Oliver's eye.
Like the others, it had a dull, formulaic title, but one word hooked him.
"...World Tree?"
"Interested?"
At the bookstore owner's question, Oliver blurted out without thinking.
"A little... I overheard it once while working before."
"Is that so? Impressive. Not many ordinary folk mention the World Tree. Mind if I ask what you do?"
Oliver thought for a moment.
"...I'm a restaurant server."
"A server?"
"Yes... I happened to overhear some customers talking about it."
The old man nodded as if satisfied.
"Hmm... I see. A restaurant server who can read... Ah, sorry. No offense meant."
"No, it's fine... If I may ask something in return?"
The bookstore owner chuckled again.
"It's been ages since anyone asked me anything... Go ahead, young fellow."
"You seem very knowledgeable. Do you know what the World Tree is?"
"The World Tree... It's a bit tricky to explain. The concept is so vast, and its roles are manifold."
"Ah..."
"Well, if I had to put it simply, it's like a vast encyclopedia."
"An encyclopedia?"
"Yes. That's the closest analogy."
"Sorry, I'm not quite getting it. Isn't the World Tree a tree?"
"It is. The largest tree in the world."
The bookstore owner stated confidently.
He meant it sincerely, but Oliver couldn't wrap his head around it.
A tree as a book? The biggest tree in the world?
Oliver tried to imagine it.
Himself flipping through a giant tree to find information. Were the details written on the leaves, maybe?
It still didn't make sense.
For instance, Forrest supposedly got information indirectly through the World Tree, but that didn't add up either.
An encyclopedia was just a record.
He didn't know much about this world, but he doubted it could identify Fighter Crew members.
Before he knew it, Oliver had forgotten his disappointment with the gray market, replaced by burning curiosity.
He wanted to satisfy it as best he could. Just then, the bookstore owner offered timely advice.
"You look full of questions. Why not buy that book, young fellow?"
"This one?"
"Yes. It's dry and difficult, sure, but with your determination, it should be fine. Knowledge gained by seeking it yourself is far more valuable than hearing it from someone else's mouth... Of course, it might just be the ramblings of a doddering old man."
He added humility at the end, but to Oliver, it rang true—his mind cleared like it hadn't in ages.
The old man was right. True knowledge came from personal pursuit.
Only then did it become truly one's own.
Oliver chided himself. How could he ask about a book right in front of him?
"No, it's excellent advice... May I ask how much this book is, sir?"
The bookstore owner stared at Oliver intently.
Even Oliver, who could peer into emotions, found it hard to read him.
"If it's all right, may I take a closer look at the book?"
The old man reached out. Oliver handed it over.
"Let's see... It's old but in good condition, and not easy to find these days. Factoring in storage costs and the original price... How about 200,000 Randa?"
"200,000 Randa?"
"Yes."
Oliver thought cheap inside but tilted his head anyway.
This was his first time buying a book properly, after all.
Subjectively, though, 200,000 felt like pocket change.
It was four times a normal book's price, but Oliver didn't know that—and even if he did, as long as it sated his curiosity, 200,000 or 2 million made no difference.
The old man looked at Oliver.
"Too pricey?"
"No, not at all, sir. If anything, it's cheap."
"Restaurant servers must make good money these days. That'd be a week's pay, at least."
"Well... I get good tips."
He recalled stories from beggar-gang folks who'd worked as servers.
"Tips? Must be a nice place."
"Yes... It's a good spot."
As he answered, Oliver pulled money from his pocket.
He started to hand over a 100,000 Randa bill but changed his mind and took out twenty 10,000 Randa notes instead.
"Here you go."
The bookstore owner didn't count the wad of bills Oliver handed him—just folded them sloppily and tucked them away.
"Here you are. It's yours now."
"Thank you."
"Thank you. It's been ages since I had a customer—short as it was, it was fun. Can't even remember the last real conversation I had. Take care."
"Yes, good luck with your business."
Oliver bowed politely and left. But halfway out, he paused and turned back to the bookstore owner.
It might lead to needless risk, but as always, curiosity overpowered caution.
"Sir."
"Hm? Back already? No refunds, per shop policy."
"No, that's not it... If it's not too rude, could I come back after reading it if I have questions?"
The old man chuckled.
"Doubt a shabby old used bookseller like me can give satisfying answers."
"Any answer has its value."
The old man smiled faintly.
"...One condition, and I'll think about it."
"What condition?"
"Bring some booze and snacks. Talking on an empty stomach's no fun."
With that, the old man laughed heartily again.
Back at his lodging, Oliver had a light meal.
In his Joseph's Family days, he'd have skipped eating to squeeze in more reading time.
But Kant's advice about proper meals echoed, so he couldn't bring himself to skip.
Still, time was precious. So Oliver had a bright idea.
"Something simple to eat?"
The plump inn proprietress asked.
"Yes, ma'am. Any simple meals available?"
"What, is my home-cooked food not good enough?"
She planted her hands on her hips, looking thoroughly displeased.
Oliver tailored his words to soothe her.
"No, I'm always grateful for your meals. They're delicious."
Her irritation softened a bit.
"It's just... sometimes I have work in my room, so I need something quick."
"Work that leaves no time to eat?"
The proprietress pressed aggressively again.
But Oliver wasn't offended in the slightest.
He wasn't the type to react to such things anyway, and most guests here were rough types.
Emotions were surprisingly contagious, coloring those around you whether you liked it or not.
There were positive examples like Kant, but negative ones too.
In short, she had no choice but to be gruff.
"I want to do some studying."
"Studying?"
"Yes... I had to stop due to circumstances, but I want to pick it back up."
The word "studying" softened her demeanor noticeably.
She didn't know his situation, but it sparked her own imaginings, leading to a nod of understanding.
"Well... you seem to have your reasons, but it's still tricky."
"Ah... I see."
"Yes. You're not the only guest here—I can't give special treatment. If I bring food to your room, everyone else will demand the same. My girl and I would be treated like maids. And I'm done playing maid."
She pointed to the straw-haired, scrawny boy helping out—about Oliver's age.
"Ah, you're right."
"Exactly. Eat in the dining room. I can cook hearty meals as the owner, but no maid service."
Oliver fell silent. He couldn't force someone who clearly didn't want to.
Still, a lingering attachment led to one proposal.
"What if I pay extra?"
"Extra pay?"
"Yes."
Money piqued her interest. Everyone worked for a living, after all—natural enough.
Oliver was no different at his core.
Before he knew it, his focus had shifted from room service to the conversation itself.
He recalled the haggling between vendors and customers at the traditional market earlier.
People negotiating to draw out mutual agreement.
He'd wanted to try it but never had the chance—until now, it seemed.
Thwack!
The proprietress slammed the table.
"Don't talk nonsense. Eat in the dining room! And stop wasting my time. Do you know how much work it is to prepare food?!"
"Ah, yes."
Unlike his hopes, the haggling ended swiftly.
Looks like Oliver had no talent for it.
After finishing his meal, he left payment on the table and headed upstairs.
On the way, the shop boy approached.
"Um... Are you a student?"
"Pardon?"
"Because of the studying thing... Did you go to school?"
Oliver paused, then answered.
"No school. Just learned a bit from a mentor."
"Ah... So you can read?"
"Yes. Why?"
The inn's boy worker hesitated.
Longing shone in his eyes, mingled with shame and fear.
Just as he mustered the courage to speak, a shout rose from below.
"Rossburn! Where'd you go this time?!"
Startled by the proprietress's fierce voice, Rossburn bowed hastily to Oliver and scurried off.
Scolding yells echoed from downstairs, but Oliver tuned them out and entered his room.
Then he dumped today's purchases onto the bed.
Low-quality emotions and life force, crude black magic items, and the unexpected book.
Oliver picked up the book, went to his desk, and opened it.
Wondering just what the World Tree really was.