Seeds of Envy
The morning after I sealed my pact with Leviathan, the brothel staff immediately picked up on the change in me.
What caught their eyes first was my hair and eye color.
"Uh... Lina? Did you suddenly awaken mana or something?" asked the auntie who cooked in the kitchen, peering at me with wide, curious eyes.
"I just woke up like this," I replied innocently.
"Th-Then show us some magic!" urged the girl who was the next eldest after me, practically bouncing on her heels.
I reached out my hand and willed a spark to life.
Fwooosh.
A flame tinged with deep violet flared above my palm. The women stood motionless, staring at the unnatural fire as if hypnotized.
"It's... beautiful..."
According to Leviathan, this was not magic at all, but the Authority of the Seven Sins. It had assured me that unless someone had attained the 7th Circle—the exalted realm of an Archmage—or wielded exceptionally dense Divine Power, they wouldn't be able to discern the true nature of this power.
Watching this scene unfold from the corner was our wonderfully tenderhearted pimp—no, scratch that, that bastard of an owner. He stepped forward and made an unexpected proposal.
"Lina, how would you like to attend the Academy?"
The Academy. It was another element that had existed purely as world-building lore in Tome of Arcana. Students trained within its sprawling grounds went on to become knights, mages, or summoners, boasting an overwhelmingly high rate of appointment to prestigious government posts. The pimp clearly intended to invest in me, ship me off to the Academy, let me graduate, and then milk my future career for all it was worth.
"Boss, but I haven't even had my coming-of-age ceremony yet..."
In the world of Tome of Arcana, one celebrated their coming of age at seventeen. Only those who had passed that threshold were permitted to enter the Academy's gates.
"Besides... it costs a fortune, doesn't it?"
While the Academy admitted commoners alongside high-born nobility, anyone who failed to secure a special dispensation had to pay tuition out of pocket. That fee ran into dozens of gold coins—a staggering sum that a commoner could never hope to save even after slaving away for an entire lifetime. On top of that, enrolling in the Academy would completely derail the long-term itinerary I had mapped out for myself.
So the Academy was out of the question. I had zero desire to go. None whatsoever. Not a chance in hell.
"...Is that so? Well, if you ever change your mind, let me know."
To my surprise, the pimp backed down remarkably fast. Looking back, that was the exact moment I should have packed my bags and fled the brothel.
For the next eight years, I worked across the brothel and the tavern, steadily nurturing my envy. And to be clear, "working at a brothel" didn't mean spreading my legs; it meant sweeping the floors, carrying laundry, and cleaning up after everyone. Seriously.
Whenever knights, mages, or wandering mercenaries stopped by for a meal or drink, I made a habit of sidling up to them with a disarmingly friendly smile.
"Could you show me a little magic, please?"
"A knight? Wow, so you've actually slain beasts before? I'd love to see your swordsmanship!"
"Since you're a mercenary, you must have traveled all over the place! Could you show me a cool technique or two?"
Whenever I put on a coy act and batted my eyelashes, their faces flushed bright red, and they eagerly showed off their prized skills. Acting cute for men? God, damn it all. Never doing that again.
Every time a knight traced a clean arc through the air, drawing a textbook sword path, my envy simmered. Every time a mage chanted an incantation and conjured a spell, envy flared in my chest. Every time a mercenary demonstrated blinding footwork, envy clawed at my gut.
If only I possessed strength like that...
If only I had natural mana...
If only my legs could move that fast...
With every surge of bitter longing, a faint violet haze swirled around my frame, though none of the bystanders ever noticed. Leviathan had explained that whenever I harbored genuine envy toward someone's technique or talent, I could replicate it—even if only in an imperfect form. In modern gaming parlance: skill replication.
Every night after the doors closed and I retreated to the staff quarters, I practiced everything I had witnessed. Taking a wooden training sword I'd bought with my meager allowance out into the yard, I traced the sword line the knight had displayed.
Whoosh—!
"...It actually worked."
It was a diluted, degraded imitation of the knight's technique, far from mastery, but for someone starting from scratch, it was more than enough to be grateful for. Next, I mimicked the mage's spellcraft—an earth manipulation spell. As I willed it, the surrounding soil pulled together, enveloped in an eerie violet radiance.
"Haha... It was really that simple?"
A hollow chuckle slipped past my lips. The power I had coveted so desperately could be wielded with trivial ease. With this authority, the Hero's legendary sword techniques, an Archmage's cataclysmic Meteor, even the transcendent marksmanship of the elves would eventually be mine to seize. I could even slaughter the useless deity who had cast me into this world like garbage.
No... get a grip. I'm a believer of Envy, not Wrath. Keep the heart ablaze, but keep the mind ice-cold.
Forcing myself to think rationally, I withdrew my envy and surveyed the quiet clearing. Over the past eight years, I had watched, listened, and coveted. I had purloined dozens of practical skills and steadily forged them into my own arsenal: martial arts, elemental cantrips, rogue pickpocketing, archery fundamentals, and more.
While this stockpile wasn't nearly enough to bring about the downfall of the Holy Kingdom, my plan was to feed my envy and expand my repertoire as I made my way there. Who knew what extraordinary skills I might stumble upon on the road? For now, I needed to rest up for tomorrow.
Stripping off my clothes to bathe, I caught sight of my reflection in the full-length mirror. I've really changed, haven't I?
Reflected on the glass was a girl whose baby fat was fading, maturing into womanhood. Soft curves were beginning to trace distinct lines along her slender silhouette, giving an unmistakable preview of the voluptuous figure she would soon possess. The two nascent Gardens of Eden meant to nourish future offspring were also making their presence known. Perhaps because it was my own physical vessel, I felt entirely detached from any sexual desire.
So the scumbags who frequent this place stare at this body and drool, huh? Fucking degenerates. Getting worked up over someone who isn't even fully grown.
Mentally sneering at them, I lowered myself into the tub. Long strands of deep violet hair drifted across the surface, blanketing the warm water.
"Leviathan, you're watching, aren't you?"
Ssslither.
As if in answer, several floating strands of violet hair braided themselves together, coalescing into the shape of a miniature serpent.
{Didst thou call?}
The primordial Sin who had remained by my side to watch my growth ever since our pact eight years ago—and the god I now served.
{Treat me not as a deity.}
Leviathan despised being referred to as a god. Perhaps because it was a divine entity that had sealed it away in the first place; it possessed a visceral disgust toward anything associated with that pantheon.
{Art thou fully prepared?}
"Yeah. Tomorrow is the village coming-of-age ceremony, which makes me an adult."
Come morning, I would be seventeen—legally recognized as an adult in this world.
{Hast thou laid thy plans?}
"Yeah. First, I'm heading to the Imperial Capital to register as a mercenary. My current strength should be more than enough."
I swirled my hand through the water, conjuring a miniature whirlpool and watching it spin. Unlike the terrifying maelstrom Leviathan had initially displayed, this swirl was vastly diminished, dissolving quietly the second I eased my focus.
"Those hellish flames and violet lightning you showed me back then... is that still beyond my reach?"
{Such calamity shall be thine to command once thy heart harbors a far deeper envy. Exercise patience.} Leviathan's tone softened, offering gentle reassurance as my expression turned pensive. {And what dost thou intend to achieve as a mercenary?}
"There have been rumors circulating that the Mercenary King is returning to the Imperial Capital soon. I'm going to make a name for myself in the guild, get close to him, and copy his techniques and swordsmanship."
Envy granted the ability to replicate and wield an opponent's prowess. However, in order to trigger the replication, I had to lay eyes on the user directly—the physical medium. That was the sole reason my attempts to imitate the Hero's swordsmanship or aura blades, which I had only ever viewed through a monitor in my past life, had fallen flat. Furthermore, abilities pirated through envy were degraded imitations; I had to drill them relentlessly until my muscles and instincts grew accustomed to them.
"I thought this would be a total free ride... Turns out I still have to grind like crazy."
{A 'free ride'? What manner of phrase is that?}
"Never mind, just an expression."
The serpent tilted its small head, clearly bewildered by gaming slang carried over from my modern existence.
"Tomorrow's finally the day."
My travel bags were already packed. Between the coin I had squeezed from flattering tavern patrons and the survival gear I had stockpiled, I had more than enough provisions. Tomorrow, I was getting the hell out of this wretched backwater village.
Closing her eyes against the rising steam of the bath, Lina quietly let her thoughts drift to the road ahead.
The coming-of-age ceremony concluded on an underwhelming note. The village's ambitious youth had long since departed for the Imperial Capital, leaving only myself and a handful of sullen local farm boys to partake in the rites.
"You've grown into a fine adult, Lina."
The tenderhearted pimp approached me, his eyes softening with paternal affection.
"Yes. Thanks to your care, Boss, I was able to grow up well. Thank you for everything."
Thank you, my ass. As if I have any gratitude for a scumbag who exploited child labor in a dump choked with cheap tobacco and rotgut booze. Still, the fact remained that he had kept me fed and sheltered since infancy, so our accounts were officially settled, weren't they?
"Well, I'll be taking my leave now."
"Where do you intend to go?"
"I want to travel. I want to see the wide world and take in the sights I've only ever read about in books with my own eyes."
This wasn't a facade; it was the honest truth.
"Even so... isn't this place your home?"
The pimp pressed, refusing to let the matter drop.
Home? I had never once considered this den of vice a home. How could anyone call a place where predatory, lecherous stares tracked your every movement a "home"? Even at this very moment, those greasy glances were prickling against my skin.
"Then... couldn't you at least graduate from the Academy? I'll cover all your tuition."
The pimp resurrected the exact proposition he had made eight years prior. The Academy—the premier institution of learning, and the gathering ground where the most preposterously gifted prodigies of the Tome of Arcana universe congregated. The man was practically begging to send me there by any means necessary.
Ugh, seriously, give me a break. If he was clinging to this notion so stubbornly, there had to be an underlying motive. Might as well ask straight out.
"Boss, why are you so obsessed with sending me to the Academy?"
"Because I want you to receive an education."
"...Pardon?"
The reply caught me completely off guard. He wanted me to be educated? Why on earth?
"Why would you want that for me?" Unable to curb my suspicion, I pressed him further.
"I know what I do for a living. I run a brothel, and I know neither you nor the rest of the world looks upon me with respect. But from the moment I first laid eyes on you as an abandoned baby, I knew you didn't belong in a place like this."
"...What are you talking about?"
"I never wanted you to spend your life in the gutter. All of us wanted you to stand beneath brighter skies, surrounded by good, decent people."
"So you wanted to send me to the Academy so I could study alongside proper peers and make real connections?"
"That's right."
A stunned silence hung between us. What are you, a saint in disguise?
"...You really don't have some hidden angle here?"
"Of course not. If you truly don't wish to go, I won't force you."
The moment those words left his mouth, the rest of the brothel staff stepped out from behind the adjacent building.
"Um... Lina, forget all about this dingy place and go somewhere bright..." murmured the timid tavern cook, wringing her apron.
"Whether you head for the Academy or the capital, just hurry up and leave already... I'm sick of looking at your face," grumbled the brothel's top-earning courtesan, crossing her arms in classic tsundere fashion.
"...Even if you never come back, please don't forget us, okay...?" added the youngest courtesan, sniffling softly.
They carried my packed luggage out from the dormitory, lining up along the gravel path solely to see me off.
...Why?
If that was how they felt all along, why couldn't they have just said so from the beginning? Why drop this heavy, sentimental nonsense on me right as I'm walking out the door?
It left an overwhelmingly bitter taste in my mouth.
A truly, thoroughly disgusting taste.