Chapter 9
Chapter 9
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 9
Chapter Title: Low-grade Disciple (1)
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Tiles on the floor, pipes connected to the walls, steam in the air.
After his victory in the duel, Oliver, declared the winner by Joseph, washed up in the shower room set up in the basement.
Washing with warm water was a first in his life, so it felt quite unfamiliar. Even so, it wasn't bad at all.
Much easier to clean than with cold water, the hardened bloodstains fell off easily just by splashing his face under the stream.
Once he was mostly clean, Oliver dried off with a towel and stepped out.
The clothes he'd left in the basket were gone, replaced by a set of new ones he'd never seen before.
"......"
Oliver stood there, unsure what to do. Wondering where on earth his clothes had gone.
He was thinking of going out as he was to look for them when a voice came from beyond the door.
"Uh...... Did you finish washing?"
"Yes?"
"Did you finish washing?"
A voice he'd never heard before. He answered anyway.
"Yes."
"Th-then...... Put on some clothes and come out. I'll show you where you'll be staying from now on."
Oliver spoke toward the strangely trembling voice.
"There's a problem with that."
"A problem?"
"Yes. My clothes are gone."
"Th-that...... No, clothes?"
"Yes."
"We threw those out. There's new clothes in the basket, so change into those. Even as a low-grade disciple, you're a formal disciple. You have to maintain some dignity for the Master's sake. Why? Is it something important?"
"No. Not at all."
"Phew......"
A sigh of relief came from beyond the door.
As the voice instructed, Oliver took out the new clothes from the basket and put them on: a crisp white shirt, denim overalls, and a black jacket.
They were a bit big on him, but there were no issues. If anything, he felt grateful.
They were the nicest clothes he'd ever worn in his life. Though the owner himself didn't particularly care.
Once dressed, he opened the door and stepped out. Standing outside was a young man who looked about five years older than Oliver.
"...... I changed."
"R-right? Then...... follow me."
The strangely stiff man spoke awkwardly as he started moving.
He seemed to treat Oliver like a subordinate yet was cautious about it. Examining his emotions, Oliver could see he was scared.
Oliver couldn't understand why, but he soon stopped caring.
After navigating corridors like an ant nest, they arrived at a massive dormitory.
About ten people were there.
Similar in number to when he'd been a temporary disciple, but the size and quality of the room were on another level.
There were proper metal beds, one per person even if a bit crude, and next to each bed was a locker for personal items and a small desk.
Nothing like the damp mattress tossed in a pigsty.
"This is the dorm where you'll be staying."
"......"
Oliver turned his head and stared blankly. The young man, burdened by the gaze, sweated profusely as he spoke.
"Private rooms are for mid-grade disciples at best. High-grade disciples and up get them."
Oliver asked,
"I'll be staying here......?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah. You're a low-grade disciple now, so you should stay here, right?"
Oliver tilted his head as if he had no idea. Because he really didn't.
He'd wanted to become a low-grade disciple just to learn black magic; better living conditions hadn't even crossed his mind.
No, more accurately, he hadn't thought about it at all.
Just to be sure, Oliver asked again.
"Is it really okay for me to stay here?"
"Yeah, that's your spot."
The young man pointed to the worst spot in the corner. Oliver approached and inspected it.
A bed free of dampness or mold, a warm-looking blanket, a sturdy locker, hangers, and so on.
"W-well, if you don't like the spot—"
"—I like it."
"You like it?"
"Yes, thank you."
Oliver expressed thanks according to his survival instincts, and the young man let out a subtle sigh of relief. Then, gathering courage, he spoke again.
"Alright...... Let me tell you about a few rules."
Rules. Oliver perked up his ears.
The orphanage had rules, the mines had rules, and the factory upstairs had rules too.
Break them, and you'd get beaten black and blue. Worst case, you'd get kicked out. So he rarely concentrated this hard.
He was finally going to learn black magic. Getting kicked out would be a tragedy, wouldn't it?
"What are the rules?"
"Uh...... Nothing major. It's about the roles you have to fulfill as a low-grade disciple. First off, I'm the dorm head here. So you have to follow my orders."
"Yes...... Dorm Head."
"You don't have to add 'sir'...... Anyway, let me explain again. Low-grade disciples are formal disciples, but in the Family, they're the lowest rank. Temporary disciples and servants aren't official Family members. Got it?"
He didn't know what a servant was or what the Family was, but Oliver nodded for now.
"Good. Meals and room cleaning are handled by servants, but important areas are our responsibility. Like classrooms, labs, workshops, libraries, that sort of thing. The Master likes things clean, so we clean every morning. Understand?"
Oliver nodded again.
"Other than that, running errands for the seniors or assisting with experiments is our job too."
"Experiments?"
"Yeah, just do as you're told quietly."
"Uh...... Got it. But, Dorm Head. Can I ask something?"
"W-what?"
"When can I receive the Master's teachings?"
"Uh, low-grade disciples usually get lessons once every two weeks. Less often, once a month. Mostly, we self-study based on the lesson materials."
"Ah......"
A faint look of disappointment crossed Oliver's corpse-like blank face. Regular lessons were certainly good, but it felt too infrequent. He'd imagined new classes every day.
As if sensing his feelings, the dorm head consoled him.
"The Master is busy teaching the seniors and managing the business, so it's unavoidable. And don't try too hard."
"Why not?"
Oliver asked sincerely. He'd finally become a disciple—why not try hard? The dorm head started to answer, then closed his mouth, mumbling vaguely instead.
"That's...... Uh, never mind. Just don't worry about it. That's all I'll tell you. Anything else?"
"No."
"Good. Let's get along then...... Oh, right. Check the drawer for your stuff. Notebook and pencil. If it's missing later, you won't get extras outside regular distribution."
Oliver opened the drawer. As the dorm head said, there was a yellowed old notebook, a half-used pencil stub, and a dirty eraser.
"Why is this here?"
"Well...... To take notes when you seriously start learning black magic?"
During his free time, Oliver left the basement and went up to the surface.
Unlike his temporary disciple days, he didn't have factory work, so he had more free time than expected. That said, he hadn't come up without reason.
Passing the sausage boxes and clutter, he entered the workshop area and visited the factory where cleanup was underway.
The temporary disciples cleaning up the mashed meat scraps and trash from the day's hard work spotted Oliver and lowered their eyes, bowing their heads.
Oliver was now a formal disciple. Their superior...... Of course, it wasn't just that.
Seeing his fellow workers' sudden change in attitude, Oliver tilted his head.
They envied and resented him, feared and were angry at him all at once.
The same light as the dorm head. Utterly incomprehensible.
Oliver approached one temporary disciple.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Huh? Uh, sure?"
"Where's Supervisor Marie?"
The worker said she was in a corner of the factory, and sure enough, behind a massive, rusted crusher that wasn't in use, she stood alone.
Unconsciously, Oliver examined her emotions. She looked deeply sad and hollow.
"Supervisor Marie?"
Oliver politely knocked on the crusher to call her.
Lost in thought and unaware of his presence, she startled. Seeing it was Oliver, her surprise turned to a furrowed brow.
"Oliver...... sir."
"Yes, hello?"
Oliver greeted her. But her brow furrowed even more.
In the light of emotions, it looked unpleasant, though he had no idea why. It was a bit awkward. She spoke again.
"What brings you here?"
"I have a favor to ask."
"A favor? Ha...... Are you making fun of me?"
"Pardon? No."
"Then, how can someone who became a formal disciple in less than ten days ask a favor from me, who's been a temporary disciple for six years?"
She meant it sarcastically, but sadly for her, it didn't land on Oliver. Unable to grasp the sarcasm, he answered honestly.
"To learn black magic properly, I need to learn letters and numbers too. But I've never learned them. So, I was wondering if you could teach me? I heard you know how."
"......"
Marie fell silent. She looked dumbfounded.
Having some tact, Oliver cautiously asked,
"Did I do something wrong?"
"Wrong...... No, you didn't do anything wrong. Why would someone who shot straight to formal disciple make a mistake with someone like me?"
"Ah, good then."
"Argh! Good my foot......!"
Frustrated by Oliver's oblivious attitude, Marie finally exploded.
Her shout echoed through the factory. Coming to her senses late, she clutched her face in frustration. Yet Oliver maintained his steadfast demeanor.
"I must have done something wrong after all...... Sorry, whatever it was?"
Exhausted or defeated, Marie sat down with a weary expression.
"...... No. It was my fault. Born in some godforsaken dump, barely scraping by for a chance, only to rot here without talent. Whose fault is it? All mine. You did nothing wrong."
Her voice sounded resigned, but Oliver could see it.
She hadn't given up yet; she was obsessed. Yet anxious and fearful too. A swirling light, almost pretty.
Unsure how to respond, Oliver stood still until she calmed herself. Soon, she spoke.
"...... You want me to teach you letters and numbers?"
"Yes. I heard you know them? That you studied?"
"Yes...... I did. Had to do something. But why ask me? Half the low-grade disciples you'll live with can read and write."
Oliver gazed into space, finding it hard to explain.
"It's...... kind of like that?"
"Like what?"
"Hard to explain, but the way they look at me is like kids looking at a supervisor. Scared kids."
Unable to make sense of it, Marie furrowed her brow again, but Oliver added,
"I came from the mines, and the supervisor there was scary. All the kids feared her, so they'd lie to avoid punishment no matter what she asked. The low-grade disciples look at me the same way."
A scattered explanation, but luckily Marie got it.
The low-grade disciples feared Oliver......
No, actually normal? He'd toyed with Tom, who was essentially low-grade level, and made him explode. But the real surprise was elsewhere.
"...... No way. Can you read emotions?"
Oliver tilted his head.
"Probably? Why?"
"My god...... That's the second stage of Eye Opening. First stage is just seeing emotions. So unfair...... How long have you been able to read them?"
"Uh...... From the start?"
Oliver's calm answer. Too tired to get mad, Marie just gave a hollow laugh.
She'd thought she knew the world was unfair and accepted it. Today proved that wrong. How could it be this unfair?
Too sad and despairing for tears. Then, oblivious Oliver asked again.
"So, about the letters and numbers?"
"Aargh! Seriously......! Why should I help you? I could drop to servant any day! Who knows when another chance will come! Why spend that precious time on you?! Why!!"
Marie spoke from emotion, not logic. After she huffed and calmed, Oliver spoke.
"I heard about servants before coming up here. What are they?"
Another tangent. But drained of anger, Marie answered weakly.
"...... Slaves who wait on the successful formal disciples. Cooking and cleaning till they die of old age. The end of the line for temporary disciples like me who can't advance."
"Are you sad right now?"
"Of course I'm sad, damn it......! Do I look like I came here to be a maid forever? I came to become a black mage. Time's running out! And you want me to spend it on you? On someone with the talent I lack?! That's not fair......"
Finishing, Marie covered her face in anguish. An invisible weight seemed to crush her.
Left alone, she might collapse under it in days. Fortunately, it didn't come to that.
"...... Didn't you say, Supervisor Marie? Next time I ask for help, bring something?"
Marie lifted her head slightly.
"If you teach me letters and numbers, I'll teach you too."
"...... Teach me what?"
"Black magic."