Chapter 76
Chapter 76
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 76
Chapter Title: Rest (2)
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Clack- clack- clack-
After finishing his work, Oliver visited Forest Restaurant on 27th Street in T District before heading straight back to his lodging.
He had planned to report on the mission and crash right away since he was already exhausted, but he ended up getting back even sooner than expected.
The reason? Forest and Al weren't there.
When he arrived at the restaurant, a different employee than usual came out to greet him. The man apologized, saying Forest had some business and couldn't make it in today.
Oliver asked what was up, but the employee only said Forest had gone to a regular meeting of Landa's brokers' guild and claimed he didn't know anything else.
Oliver had only asked out of reflex anyway, so he didn't press further. He just asked the man to pass along word that he'd completed the mission.
The employee then fetched a single sheet of paper and asked for his signature.
By officially documenting the mission's completion, Oliver felt a real sense of closure, and with it came a flood of the fatigue he'd built up over the past month.
Well, nothing serious.
Murphy had taken good care of his sleeping arrangements and meals, after all.
He'd endured far worse living conditions before, so this wasn't a big deal.
Just a bit of heaviness in his limbs and some drowsiness?
A good day's rest would probably wash it all away clean.
He arrived at his lodging and opened the door.
"Who... Ah! It's you."
The innkeeper, who had been preparing food in the kitchen as usual, spotted Oliver and spoke up right away.
"Yes, hello. It's been a while."
"Yes, it really has. All done with work?"
"Yeah, more or less... Nothing out of the ordinary?"
"Out of the ordinary? Well, except for egg prices going up. How on earth do egg prices rise like that?... Anyway, have you eaten? Shall I bring something?"
"No, I'm good."
"Ah!"
Someone called out then.
It was the young inn hand carrying a basket of potatoes—a boy with dirt smudged on him from hauling them. He froze at the sight of Oliver, his face lighting up with pure delight for some reason.
It reminded him of someone... Hmm... Ah! Marie.
"Rossbern! I told you to bring the potatoes! The basket isn't gonna walk itself!"
At the innkeeper's usual sharp yell, Rossbern jumped and started hauling the full basket.
He looked like he had something to say, but Oliver didn't bother following to ask.
Not that he was particularly curious, first of all. And the kid was busy, plus Oliver was sleepy—that was reason number two.
With that, Oliver climbed the stairs to his room.
The room felt just as he'd left it after a month away—no changes.
He didn't have much in the way of personal items anyway, and what he did have was stashed in his private storage box.
He'd learned from experience that the innkeeper was a bit picky but never rummaged through guests' rooms while cleaning.
'Hmm... Even so, sticking around here forever feels off.'
The thought crossed Oliver's mind.
He had no complaints about the place, but considering some intel he'd picked up lately, moving out and finding new digs seemed like the smart play all around.
Even if they cut you a deal on rates, long-term lodging was a money sink. Better to drop a chunk upfront on a long-term rental or outright buy—that was the real savings.
A ton of retired soldier laborers griped about rent; that was proof enough.
Running the numbers based on their stories confirmed it: for Oliver, inn life was needless expense.
'Not buying—go for the long-term rental. Cheaper, less hassle. And honestly, I don't need a house as an asset.'
Oliver concluded.
What he needed was a decent place to crash, not real estate.
More than anything, he craved total personal space.
A private spot for black magic experiments.
A house with a shed or basement would be ideal. Worst case, like that puppeteer Glyph, snag a warehouse in some out-of-the-way spot.
'Human corpses are a no-go, but dog or cat bodies should be fine, right?'
As he mulled asking Forest about it, a knock-knock-knock sounded at the door.
Oliver turned. He could sense the emotion seeping under the door. A familiar one.
"...Rossbern? What's up?"
Rossbern startled at Oliver's voice.
A trembling voice came from the other side.
"C-Can I come in?"
"Ah, hold on."
Oliver rose from his seat and opened the door.
A straw-haired boy stood there, hunched in anxiety.
"H-Hello."
"Hey. What can I do for you?"
"Th-The missus sent me to ask if you'd like dinner."
"Dinner? Hmm... Yeah, sure."
"Ah, okay..."
Rossbern didn't leave, just fidgeted. Anxiety and fear colored his emotions, his hands twisting to vent them.
Yet a thin, tough thread of will kept the boy rooted.
"...Something you wanna say?"
"Ah..."
The boy's emotions churned harder.
Waves of accumulated defeat and frustration crashed over him, but a tiny, stubborn sprout of will struggled to rise.
Finally, in a quavering voice, the boy spoke.
"C-Could you... teach me to read?"
***
After dinner that evening, Oliver headed right out.
To the traditional market where the Gray Market was.
The one tucked in a corner of T District.
Sunset had the place bathed in orange; it was quiet, shops shuttering one by one.
The market itself was bedding down for the night, but luckily, Oliver's destination stayed open late.
And where was that?
"...Well, if it isn't the young friend. Long time."
The old man at the tiny used bookstore squeezed between shops said.
He sat out front just like their first meeting, reading the day's paper.
"Hello, sir. Good to see you again."
Oliver greeted him politely. The book the old man recommended had taught him properly about the World Tree; this much respect was the least he could do.
The old man seemed to appreciate the manners and smiled.
"You've gotten even more polished since last time. Appreciated, but it's too much for a nothing old bookseller."
"...? You hooked me up with a great read, so what does that have to do with you being a bookseller?"
The old man chuckled at Oliver's earnest question and shrugged.
A gesture saying: no more on that topic.
"Anyway, what's the occasion? Saw you coming from way off—not a casual drop-in, I'd wager."
Oliver glanced back the way he'd come.
The old man's eyesight was sharp for his age.
"Yes, exactly."
"Knew it... Mind if I take a stab? Bet it's something from one of the books bugging you. But coming empty-handed? Bit disappointing, young friend."
The old man's confident tone.
Oliver answered honestly, no malice intended.
"No. Looking for a good book to teach a kid to read."
"........."
The old man stared at Oliver in silence.
Composed on the surface, but inside, embarrassment and chagrin bubbled up slow, like a kettle coming to boil.
Oliver watched quietly, wondering if he'd goofed. An awkward silence stretched.
"........."
"........."
"...Did I mess up?"
"No... no. Just stay put a sec. Need a sip of courage."
With that, the old man downed from a brown paper-bagged bottle. Not enough—he took two more gulps.
"Better... What kind of book?"
"Something good for a kid learning letters. About... fourteen? Fifteen? For the kid to study. Oh! Arithmetic books would be great too—got any?"
"Fourteen, fifteen... letters and math... Awfully specific."
The old man rose slowly from his chair.
His stiff knees cracked like splintering wood—must've been sitting too long.
"Probably got something. But young friend... if you don't mind, why buy it?"
Oliver thought a moment, then answered. Nothing to hide.
"Kid who works at my inn asked me to teach him."
"Inn kid... The owners' boy? They knock off some rent if you do?"
The old man delved into the shop's depths, flipping open a massive ledger—likely an inventory list.
"Ah... Could save on rent that way, huh?"
"Not the case?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah. Just a kid who works there."
The old man laughed dryly.
"Teaching for free? Why?"
"Dunno? Kid just asked."
The old man paused his search, turning his head slightly. In the shop's gloom, his expression looked weighty.
"Just teaches 'cause he asked?"
"Uh... Is that bad?"
"Not bad, just... odd. Most folks don't."
True... People were stingy with sharing knowledge. He knew it was normal, but still stingy.
Oliver pondered why he'd agreed to the boy's request. Questioned his own choice.
Took a while. Meanwhile, the old man pulled the requested books from a corner.
Ancient things—blowing off dust sent brown particles flying.
"Lucky—these are here. No idea why. Old and filthy, so 10,000 Landa total."
Still mulling, Oliver fished money from his wallet.
As he handed it over, he spoke.
"'Cause he's amazing."
"Sorry? What was that?"
"The kid's amazing."
"...What's amazing about him?"
"Works at the inn every day, so he's timid as heck, but he came to me first to ask about learning letters. Scared out of his mind, but he mustered the guts... So yeah. That's what's amazing, and why I'm teaching him. Wanting to learn—that's amazing, right?"
Oliver's words tumbled out like a three-year-old's—vocabulary all shot.
But it was his honest truth. Enough to convince even himself.
The old man eyed him, then chuckled again and pulled writing tools from under the counter.
"This?"
"On the house. Good words from a fine young man. Will to learn is amazing—spot on."
"Ah... Thank you."
Oliver thanked him, pocketing the tools with the two books.
Mission accomplished—now he relaxed.
"Oh, since I'm here, mind if I ask about a book?"
"Knew it... Had a question after all? Could've said so up front—instead you leave me hanging. All embarrassing."
"Sorry."
"Fine. Shoot."
"Finished that World Tree book you recommended. But one part doesn't click."
"Oh, all the way through... What doesn't click?"
"It stores, manages, and outputs info from the whole world, right?"
"Yep. Problem?"
Oliver phrased it carefully, as planned.
"World's full of different languages and scripts—how does it manage that? Just dumping it in raw doesn't sound like proper management."
The old man's eyes widened a fraction, a hint of admiration flickering.
"...Sharp question."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Even scholars in this stuff rarely ask. One or two, maybe... Anyway, yes. Raw storage with different scripts and tongues isn't management. So World Tree info gets processed once."
"Processed?"
"Yep. Into 'Code Language.' It converts input to its own format. Principle's unknown, but any language goes in as Code Language, comes out the same."
Oliver recalled the strange script he'd seen entering the World Tree to find Forest.
Had to be the Code Language.
"How do you even read it?"
"Duh. Learn Code Language."
The old man slid over an ancient, thick tome.
Title stamped blunt on the cover: Code Language Basics (Vol. 1).
"Special price: 300,000 Landa. Rare stuff."