The Crow's Jewel Box

"...Huh?"

This is my entire fortune, you crazy bastard...!

By the time morning arrived, I had finished my predawn walk and was on my way back to the party members.

"Sigh."

I was excited that one of the items on my old bucket list—fishing—was finally happening, yet for some reason my steps felt unbearably heavy. It was as if the entire world were pressing down on me. Another sigh slipped out.

So I decided to fly instead. That's right. If your steps are heavy, you simply don't walk!

Oh, so my friend's claim that a man ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠who remains a virgin for over forty years becomes a sage was true after all? I never wanted to learn that particular fact.

Damn bastard.

Thinking about that friend of mine, now living a slow SF life in the singularity that had arrived in reality, made me feel like crying. I was so jealous I could weep!

Still, as a member of the three-man club, I refuse to show tears easily no matter the situation. Actually, during the early days after possessing into Terraforming, I cried so hard and so often that my tear ducts and bladder both dried up. I didn't want to know that either? Just remember that's exactly how I feel right now.

It's shit.

But no matter how shit I feel, I must never forget my manners. Just because you're in a bad mood doesn't mean you should inconvenience the people around you. Except when mana is insufficient—and incidentally, I always feel like my mana is insufficient. Because mana is literally my life. Without it, I die.

Still, as a prospective demon from the land of Eastern courtesy, I personally walked all the way to a secluded spot before deploying my wings.

Flap!

Flying high into the sky, refreshing air pierced the purification filter of the stifling Plague Doctor Mask.

"Wow. As expected, nothing beats sky air."

Of course, technically we were still ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠underground, but anywhere higher than my head was sky enough for me.

The cool air rushed in, clearing the fog that had clouded my mind like a hazy sky. Even so, I couldn't hold back the sigh that burst out.

"Haa...."

The road to becoming a demon... was long and harsh.

In fact, yesterday I had obtained the fear of demons from that low-level boss called Wendigo, but I'd completely forgotten about it while distracted by fishing and those frog abominations.

I had tried using Demonophobia. Or rather, I'd attempted to.

Even after pouring in nearly all the mana I possessed, the damn fear bullet refused to form. I could only stare blankly at the empty cylinder. Every other fear bullet could be created with just 1 MP, yet this cursed one claimed it was still insufficient after thirty million? I was speechless.

The bio-energy I'd earned in Terraforming by diligently chewing and swallowing the infected converted into roughly twenty-eight million mana. The remaining two million came from the mana I'd scraped together by rampaging through every corner of this dungeon.

And yet.

This damned fear looked at all of it—the mana that contained sixty years of my blood, sweat, and tears, both in Terraforming and here in the dungeon, every scrap of my life and time painstakingly accumulated—and still declared it insufficient.

How could my heart not twist at such nonsense?

With just ten thousand mana I could easily tear apart most monsters, so ten thousand was by no means a small amount. It could generate an explosion on par with or stronger than a heat-pressure round. Claiming that was "insufficient" was a conscience that had truly died.

This wasn't mental victory talk. It was a statistical fact based on hard numbers.

Yet Mr. Demonophobia was now telling me it was short by an amount of mana that could fire three thousand heat-pressure rounds.

Did the fear-bullet world's Mansour just show up with his blue blood?

Fortunately, I hadn't gained only despair from this.

Thanks to the way Demonophobia kept rejecting me, one thing had become mostly certain. The demon... ah, too long. I'll just call it the demon bullet.

To continue, the demon bullet's ability was confirmed at roughly eighty-five percent.

The ability I had in mind was one that would 'demonize' the target it struck. There was no way it would require over thirty million mana otherwise.

So now, in addition to conquering the dungeon and landing a big catch while fishing, I had gained a new objective.

I would visit the Magic Tower sometime, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠since Sion had mentioned something about artifact mana charging there. If I gathered another twenty million mana that way, it should be enough.

Then, using the demon bullet, I would shed the cosplay of a terror demon and be reborn as the real thing. So I could stand tall before everyone in this world who believed a lost soul like me was a demon.

But before that.

Let's go fishing.

The moment I thought of fishing with the party, every distracting thought in my head vanished as if struck by a direct nuclear hit. I kept flapping wings that suddenly felt lighter, placed a hand over my unbeating chest, and headed toward my companions.

And then I saw it.

"Uwaaaack! My eyes!"

"Opening...!"

My contractor was throwing dirt into Hans's eyes in an attempt to launch a surprise attack.

"You learned well."

Well done, Yuri. The world is all about results. Hurry up and beat the blinded Hans, seize the fruit of victory. A first-tier adventurer (rear guard) defeating a third-tier adventurer (vanguard) will go down in history. I'll serve as the living witness.

But....

Thud!

"Ugh."

Thump.

"...Huh?"

"...Ah."

Oh. How on earth did she lose? Damn it, Hans, are you the strongest even with your eyes closed?

The contractor who had been knocked out by the blinded Hans's instinctive backspin elbow fortunately regained consciousness soon after. A deranged cat beastman was currently pouring salt water onto the injured head. It would have been strange if she didn't wake up. Sorry I couldn't stop it in time, Contractor.

"Gyaaaaaaaack!!!"

"Yuri! Stay still nyang! This needs holy water to heal quickly nyang!"

"Yuri. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry...!"

Yeah. It looks incredibly painful. Even watching it made me frown and feel a pang in my chest. Still, experiencing pain at a young age is quite important. Only then do you naturally learn how to endure it, overcome it, and eventually avoid becoming overwhelmed by it.

Rather than raising someone like a greenhouse flower who grows up with safety blindness, it's better to provide appropriate pain like this and instill a healthy 'fear of pain.' Like a pain vaccination.

Oh, are you the pain vaccine again?

Gurgle.

As always, while I was having these worthless thoughts, a stomach growled somewhere. Everyone's eyes turned toward the source of the sound.

"...."

There stood the contractor, smoothing down her wet hair with hollow eyes that glared at the floor as if trying to kill it. She looked deeply frustrated. Her gaze was so savage that even I—who fed on fear—felt a flicker of actual dread for a moment. As expected of my contractor.

....

We silently dried the contractor's hair with gentle care, then headed to the first-floor inn restaurant. Everyone was too afraid she might bite to speak to her casually. They say you shouldn't pet a hungry dog.

Oh, what is this visual?

Today's breakfast menu was vegetable soup with grilled fish and a meat sandwich made with thinly sliced frog hind legs tossed in sweet seasoning. Just looking at it drew involuntary admiration; the taste was obvious without even trying it.

Looks delicious.

But I was a demon serving a hard Ramadan of three hundred sixty-five forced fasting days. No matter what feast lay before me, as long as this lovely Plague Doctor Mask remained fixed on my head, I could never taste the joy of eating.

Still, the fact that all of you could enjoy it was enough.

Eating broadcast, on.

I swallowed dry saliva without showing it and wore a bitter smile. A rough wooden spoon slipped between red lips.

"...Delicious."

"Yuri! Eat lots nyang! You have to eat a lot for the swelling to go down quickly nyang!"

"...Yes! Sion-nim."

"Yuri. This is my apology for earlier. Please, accept it...."

"...I'm fine. Hans, please eat a lot. Or would you like mine as well?"

"...Goddess?"

When the contractor took a spoonful of soup and smiled faintly, the once-quiet table quickly grew lively. Before long the party members were chatting harmoniously while enjoying their food with happy little noises. Unlike not long ago when they had been awkward with one another, the conversation flowed without pause and topics arose without hesitation.

However, unable to keep up with the latest trends of medieval fantasy, I couldn't follow the flow. Feeling like the old man who had crashed the young people's table, I rested my chin on the edge of the table and quietly observed them.

I am an observer. A minimalism observer who watches slowly drifting clouds to pass the day and follows invisible constellations through dark nights to soothe loneliness.

To me—to this lonely, friendless, outcast plague-doctor cosplayer—the brave and precious comrades who had taken the first step toward me. I captured their faces in my black lenses.

I'm full.

Even though I hadn't eaten, I felt deep satisfaction, a profound sense of fullness. Their happiness was my happiness. No—they were my happiness. Everything I had once searched for, everything I had once given up on, was contained within this small table.

Is this how a crow feels when it gazes at the jewels it has gathered in its nest?

"...."

The moment was so sparkling and precious I couldn't look away. Not until the most cherished jewel spoke my name.

"Raven-nim? Are you all right?"

"Why is the crow suddenly so quiet nyang?"

"...Are you sleeping? Slurp, I can't tell because of the mask...."

"I'm not sleeping."

We have to go fishing. What sleep? Do you think I'm Sion?

"Everyone, if you're done eating, let's get up."

It's time to head out and work off these full stomachs.