Chapter 5
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 5
Chapter Title: Seeing Stones as Gold (1)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
"I'm pretty famous, aren't I! I never thought my name would reach the Eastern Continent. This is kinda embarrassing."
I narrowed my eyes, watching Wolfram flash that brazen grin of hers. The fact that this character was still alive meant Verdandi hadn't started her career as the Hero yet.
In the novel, Verdandi's first scene had her judging the Gold Tower Lord—who had come to welcome her as the Hero—as a villain and slicing her in half horizontally.
Of course, that was my own staging. I figured it was the simplest way to shock the readers.
"Master, that Taoist seems frivolous in his manners and fond of drink. I think it best to keep our distance..."
Biwol tugged at my arm, pulling me away as I stared intently at Wolfram. She turned her head back, clearly repulsed by the booze stench wafting from the surroundings.
"Haha, and who's this feisty little miss? Your daughter?"
"My daughter?! How dare you say such nonsense!"
"...She's my disciple, Biwol. She's young and doesn't know manners yet."
I pressed down firmly on Biwol's head, forcing her to bow. She stiffened her neck, struggling against me with all her might.
Being rude to the head of a magic tower in this fantasy world could spell trouble for me or Biwol.
Magic towers were places of study and research for mages, and their lords were powerhouses far beyond ordinary wizards.
"My name is Bing Yeon. In the East, I lead a small sect, teaching disciples."
"Nice to meet you! I'm Wolfram Alchemista, mage and alchemist. You've heard of my reputation, I see?"
Wolfram swept her golden hair to the side, beaming with confidence. That's just how lively and upbeat this character was.
"Yeah, I've heard the rumors. Even turning roadside pebbles into gold."
"Ha, you talk like an old geezer. Your face is pretty appealing, though."
Suddenly, Wolfram lifted my chin with her fingers, scrutinizing my face closely.
She even let out a thoughtful "Hmm," like some jeweler appraising a gem.
"Do all Eastern Continent folks look like this? Nah, I don't think so."
"...?"
I had no clue what was going on, so I just let her do her thing. Part of me hoped she might know a way to fix my constitution.
"Whoa, it's cold! Why's your skin this freezing?!"
No such luck, apparently. Wolfram recoiled in shock at how deathly cold my skin was.
"Even the Gold Tower Lord called the 'Golden Sage' can't solve it? Pity."
I clicked my tongue in disappointment. I'd thought a top-tier mage like a tower lord might find a way to overcome my Extreme Yin Body.
She was the famous Gold Tower Lord who could turn pebbles into gold, after all.
I'd visited magic towers during my travels in the Western Regions before, but as an outsider, I couldn't just meet someone as important as a tower lord easily. So I'd held out hope.
"Your veins are clogged solid with something weird. Ice shards? No, worse than that..."
Wolfram even rubbed her hands together and huffed warm breath on them. The way she'd gleaned that much about my body in an instant suggested she wasn't faking her identity.
"How dare she... how dare she touch Master's chin... I barely get to touch it myself..."
As I sighed quietly, a strange mutter came from behind me.
The source of that chilling killing intent was Biwol. Her red eyes gleamed faintly, the air around her vibrating as her hair floated upward.
'Oh no, emergency.'
It was the same reaction she gave back when I knew she was scared of ghosts but made up a story to tease her anyway.
There was one surefire remedy for this.
"Biwol, calm down. She was just checking my condition."
I pulled the agitated Biwol into a tight hug. A bit forceful, maybe.
"H-Hiiik..."
She flailed her arms and legs in my embrace for a moment before going still, then draped her arms around my back and settled down.
What a needy disciple. It felt like she was groping around, savoring the feel of my firm muscles.
"This unworthy disciple failed to grasp Master's profound intent..."
Biwol's mouth hung open in awe, letting out a "Whoa..." Her interest in my martial artist's physique was only natural.
'Starting to tickle now.'
Characters like the Infinite Sword Emperor of the Nangong Clan or the Poison Dragon of the Sacheon Tang Family had praised my body before too.
I couldn't take the tickling anymore and pried Biwol off. She let out a short sigh, looking disappointed.
"...Did I almost die just now? Right?"
Wolfram gave a hollow laugh, incredulous. As a powerhouse, she'd sense the killing intent just fine.
"Heh, you two are hilarious. I'll let it slide 'cause you're cute."
"... "
Instead of replying, I gave a small nod toward Wolfram, silently warning her not to rile Biwol up.
"Hehe, Master's scent. Eheh..."
Biwol wrapped her arms around herself, sniffing here and there. Like a puppy rubbing against its owner's clothes, she meticulously marked different spots with my scent.
Even I thought her obsession was a bit much, but to suppress the karma of the Heavenly Killing Star, a strong bond was necessary.
'A person's fate can change because of other people.'
Anyone seeing this might call it covering the sky with a palm or pouring water into a holey bucket.
'But I'm her creator too. It's only natural.'
I trusted Biwol. She was the first final boss I'd penned myself.
If a master doesn't trust his disciple, or a writer his own writing, what in this world could he trust?
"Off to meet the Hero chosen by the gods?"
"How'd you know? As expected of someone from the Eastern Continent—quite knowledgeable?"
With a flick, Wolfram upended her wine bottle, pouring out an orange liquid. A display of her alchemy, transmuting one substance into another.
"Here, just pure orange juice. Drink up, and let's have a real talk."
Wolfram smirked, starting to spill details about Hero Verdandi.
To cut to the chase, if things stayed this way, Wolfram was doomed to die.
"The gods even bestowed the title 'Hero of Justice' and selected her. I'm heading to this backwater village to find the girl."
"...That's it? What about her abilities or points to watch out for?"
"Such things exist? She's the Hero. The one who'll lop off the Demon King's head and bring peace to the world."
Wolfram took another swig from her wine bottle, letting out an old-man grunt. The alcohol was starting to hit her.
Yeah, in my novel's world, folks generally assumed Heroes were mostly good.
The Western Continent had been under constant Demon King assaults, with past Heroes stopping them—that was the basic setup.
"But what if she's not? What if the Hero's insane and slaughters everyone around her..."
"Nah, no way. An innocent little girl who hasn't even had her coming-of-age rite? She'd lack the power. Plus, it's a divine oracle from the gods."
The problem was that I sat above those so-called gods. I sighed deeply enough to cave the deck.
Among past Heroes, I'd given Verdandi an especially grim backstory to fit her as the final boss.
Looking back now, I just wanted to twist the popular Japanese isekai tropes of exiled Heroes or betrayed Heroes falling to darkness.
"Master, this is..."
"Yeah, probably like your situation before I saved you, Biwol."
Biwol sipped the orange juice Wolfram gave her, listening intently to me. She liked it so much she'd refilled several times already.
"Listen well, Wolfram. Sober up completely first, then layer defensive spells on yourself before meeting the Hero."
"Why should I?"
Wolfram furrowed her brow at my words, eyeing me like some weirdo.
"This reeks of money. If you sweet-talk the Hero into a contract..."
Wolfram always drank when money was involved. Her habit to mask anxiety and nerves.
And...
"...you'll be rolling in gold? That flimsy thinking will get your body cleaved in half."
Because of that carelessness and habit, Wolfram fails to properly defend against Verdandi's strike and dies.
That was the plausibility I'd set up. Even the strongest would let their guard down against an unarmed little girl.
"You wanna fight me right now? Saying the god-chosen Hero will kill me? Don't talk nonsense. I'm the Gold Tower Lord, you know."
"Can a mage say that so lightly? Heroes slay even the Demon King."
I recited settings only I knew. Though originally, she was fated to die by Hero Verdandi's hand.
"The king ruling the Demon Realm continent, lord commanding beasts and demons, the being dyeing the world in darkness."
His death eliminates the threat to the throne. I used the Demon King as a smokescreen for the corrupt royalty.
"So what? That's not scary at all—just your average folktale about the Demon King!"
"Doesn't it strike you as odd that such power dwells in one little girl?"
After the Demon King falls, the terrified king accuses her of treason or witchcraft and tries to kill her.
"You mean...?"
And...
Her ability [Scales of Justice] judges them all as villains.
"...it's about time one of them snapped. The human mind is fragile as glass—once shattered, it's hard to piece back together."
I crossed my arms and said it plainly. Thinking about it, it was simple. Plausibility-born problems could be shattered by another layer of plausibility.
"That's blasphemy, you know?"
Wolfram swallowed hard, eyes wide, before speaking. We were in a secret spot below deck, no one around.
"If the god telling an innocent girl to save the world is divine, I say otherwise."
I was the one who'd created that damn god in the first place.
Lots of stories had gods as hidden masterminds or roots of all evil.
"Hahaha! You're hilarious. The Pope would call you mad and you'd have no comeback."
Wolfram burst out laughing at my words, a whiff of wine escaping her mouth.
"...That's why I like you even more!"
The Gold Tower Lord I'd written was a quirky woman.
She preferred action over stillness, revelry with booze over quiet.
"Alright! You two come with me to meet the Hero!"
Wolfram Alchemista invited me and Biwol to join her.
"I was planning to anyway, even without you asking. I have business with the Hero too."
I took her outstretched hand and nodded.