Auction (1)
Two days slipped by in perfect, unbroken quiet.
Life inside the Grand Ducal Castle was so thoroughly satisfying it bordered on perfection. The beds were soft, the food delicious, the water hot and the baths spotless; even the clothes were comfortable and cut from fine material.
“Nice… this is nice…”
“…Why have you come all the way out here today?”
I had already told the party where I was going and left early through the castle’s northern gate, heading into the forest beyond. Today, at two o’clock, the Dragon Jade auction would begin. I wanted to finish a little preparatory work before it started.
“Came to pull your scales.”
“…R-right now?”
“Yeah. The sooner they’re out, the sooner they grow back. Better for everyone.”
“The time it takes is the same either way…”
“Hey. Are you talking back to your contractor again?”
“…N-no. I am not.”
The woods were silent and empty of people. Even if Caesius revealed herself, it shouldn’t be a problem.
“Then we’ll do it here.”
“…Cruel human.”
“What was that?”
“N-nothing.”
She kept walking that fine line.
Caesius dropped her polymorph and returned to her true, massive dragon form. Fortunately the dense canopy of trees hid her bulk; no one outside the forest would see her.
“Lower your head a bit. There are trees, but still—better safe than sorry.”
She obediently dipped her head and settled onto her belly. I nodded in satisfaction.
“All right. Pull them out.”
“You want me to pull them myself…?”
It would probably hurt less if she did it herself.
“Want me to do it? My arms are pretty weak, though—might take a while, and it could hurt more…”
“Fine! I’ll do it!”
Should have just said that from the start.
“How many scales—”
“How many do you need?”
I glanced over my shoulder. Of course I hadn’t come alone. Two party members had tagged along, probably worried I might try to run off.
“Hmm?”
Ser-Aria and Clara—the same Clara who had covered for me with a convenient excuse the other day. Both already knew I had gained magic power, so bringing them was no issue.
Ser-Aria pulled the bottle from her lips long enough to answer.
“How many can you spare?”
“If we yank too many at once she’ll just whine about how much it hurts next time. Let’s take a moderate amount and come back later for more.”
“Hahaha! Sounds good to me!”
Caesius stared at us as if we were demons, but I paid her no mind. Sparing the life of a dragon that had rampaged through the middle of the capital already put us well past the “demon” threshold.
“We’ll use them for arrows, so twenty should do. Plus ten more for me. Thirty total.”
“That doesn’t sound like a ‘moderate’ number…”
“You refusing?”
“I-I never said that!”
Grumbling, Caesius lifted a claw and began plucking the scales from her own back with neat little tock-tock sounds. For all her earlier complaints about pain, she didn’t even flinch—pure theatrics.
“One fang, one claw, and one of the horns while you’re at it.”
“…The horn actually hurts.”
“Still better than dying.”
Caesius shook her head.
“Couldn’t you just cut a little piece instead of taking the whole thing? Judging by what you’re asking for, you’re planning to make that elixir or whatever again, aren’t you?”
“You know about that?”
“If that’s what you’re making, you don’t need an entire horn.”
“True, but the one I’m making is a little different. I need the whole horn.”
“…Different?”
“Yeah, so…”
I gave the order.
“Pull the horn out. Now.”
“….”
A short, genuine cry of pain escaped her as she obeyed. It looked cruel, but every piece would grow back with time; nothing here threatened her life.
In short order I had collected every byproduct I needed.
Hell yeah. This is what they call a creative economy—infinite dragon materials without ever killing the dragon!
“Here, Aria.”
“Oh! Thanks, Allen!”
Ser-Aria accepted the scales and even thanked Caesius.
“Haha, Caesius, was it? Appreciate it—I’ll put these to good use!”
“…Sure.”
“Doesn’t really count as payment, but want a drink?”
“…I’ll pass on the alcohol.”
Surprisingly, she didn’t like liquor. I’d assumed a long-lived race would know how to enjoy a good drink.
Hmm…
Come to think of it, I’d heard plenty about dragons loving treasure, but never once about them loving booze.
“So, Allen, heading back now?”
“We’ve still got time until two. Might as well craft it right here.”
“…Here?”
Clara tilted her head, clearly wondering how anything could be made in an empty forest.
“I brought the supplies.”
I’d packed the shells I’d torn from the lair into my bag. I pulled everything out and spread it across the ground. Ser-Aria and Clara watched in silence for a moment before speaking.
“Now that I think about it, it’s been forever since we ate Allen’s cooking! Even in the last dungeon we just made do with store-bought rations.”
“Cooking?”
“…Yeah.”
Clara added quietly,
“…Allen always made delicious meals.”
It sounded like praise… yet the nuance felt oddly like “Allen always used to make delicious meals,” which left a strange aftertaste.
Still, they weren’t wrong. The only traits visible on my pathetic status window had been things like [Ingredient Prep] and [Quick Cooking].
“It is about lunchtime…”
“Hah! Eating here before we go doesn’t sound half bad!”
“Fine, I’ll cook—so put that bottle down and do what I tell you.”
“Huh? I’ve got a job?”
Normally she wouldn’t, but since I was cooking I needed the extra hands.
“I’m making an elixir and lunch at the same time. Not enough hands.”
“Ahh, got it! What do I do?”
“Hang on.”
I pulled out the secondary bag attached to my pack—a magically chilled storage bag. The ingredients inside were still perfectly fresh.
“Caesius, you eating too?”
“…You tear all this off me and then plan to leave me hungry?”
“…Shouldn’t have asked.”
Of course I’d feed her.
Before cooking, though, I had to get the elixir formula right. Into a deep pot went the ten dragon scales, one claw, and one horn I’d just taken from Caesius. Next I dumped in a generous heap of the shells ripped from the lair, then pounded everything with a pestle until the shells shattered thoroughly.
“Like this…”
I cracked open a common mana potion and poured it in, then set the pot over the campfire I’d already lit.
“Aria. Keep stirring clockwise.”
“That’s all?”
“Yeah. Slow and steady.”
“Got it!”
Ser-Aria took the ladle and began stirring the contents at a leisurely pace.
“Allen, this stuff reeks.”
“Well… yeah.”
Obviously. I hadn’t put anything tasty in there—just a pile of things no one would ever call ingredients. The rule that “what’s good for the body tastes bitter” applied even inside the game.
“…Are we cooking now?”
“That’s the plan.”
“…What’s on the menu?”
“Curious?”
I asked playfully. Clara flinched, then fidgeted and mumbled,
“…Sorry. I should just eat whatever I’m given…”
“No, no—that wasn’t it. I was joking!”
She always twisted things toward the worst interpretation. Just when I thought she was getting better…
“…A joke?”
“Yeah. A joke.”
“…Sorry. I didn’t realize it was a joke…”
“…You don’t have to apologize over something that small.”
Lately she’d seemed improved, but clearly the wounds weren’t fully healed.
Still a long road ahead.
What I was making was pork-neck vegetable fried rice. Even though I had no memories from before the possession, somehow the recipes remained crystal clear—including every dish you could cook from dungeon monsters.
Porter muscle memory, maybe…?
I seared the meat first in a rough iron pan, then added the washed and chopped vegetables and seasoned everything lightly. As the ingredients sizzled, a mouth-watering aroma rose and began to neutralize the foul stench coming from the elixir pot.
Clara’s expression brightened considerably, and even Ser-Aria—who had been wrinkling her nose while stirring—looked like she might survive after all.
“You’re quite the cook.”
“I’m the party’s general laborer, so…”
Caesius spoke with genuine curiosity.
“You never struck me as someone with much connection to cooking.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? Judging people by looks is a bad habit, you know.”
“That wasn’t my meaning… I simply meant that someone born with magic power would hardly live a life that required cooking for themselves. Magically gifted humans are treated rather well in human society, are they not?”
“That’s what you meant?”
“You always interpret my words in the most negative light.”
This from the creature who used to call humans “mere insects.” How else was I supposed to take her?
“I wasn’t born with magic.”
“…What? Humans can acquire magic after birth?”
“Too much trouble to explain. Just accept it.”
If I casually mentioned I’d eaten something left behind by the Demon King’s army, she’d probably start spouting weird theories. She’d already noticed I wasn’t the original soul of this body; who knew what else she might figure out.
Better to have that conversation later, just the two of us.
“Allen! It’s starting to boil hard—wait, the color’s changing!”
“Oh.”
That was the sign it was nearly done.
“Now stir the other way—counterclockwise, fast!”
“O-okay!”
I handed the pan to Clara for a moment and checked the pot Ser-Aria had been stirring. The murky blue-green liquid, once reversed, shifted to a faint red and finally settled into a deep violet.
“Whoa, Allen. You’re actually going to drink this?”
“…I have to.”
It looked absolutely disgusting. Worse, the dragon byproducts—everything except the crushed shells—still kept their original shapes, making the visual even more nightmarish.
But I needed it. This was the key that would chip away, however slightly, at my pathetic stats.
Congratulations! A Hidden Elixir has been successfully combined!
[Dragon Tonic] has been created!
That was it.
“Done.”
“It’s finished? …Ugh, I don’t think I could swallow a single drop.”
“Wasn’t planning on feeding it to you anyway.”
I killed the fire and lifted the ladle. Hot, foul-smelling, and clearly foul-tasting…
I have to drink every last drop.
I squeezed my eyes shut and downed a mouthful—then blinked in mild surprise.
“…It doesn’t taste like anything.”
“Really?”
“The smell’s still awful, but…”
It was literally flavorless. Aside from the heat, I could drink it without trouble. The effect hit immediately.
All stats have increased.
The moment I saw the message I started scooping and gulping as fast as I could. Since it was made with only a single potion, the volume wasn’t large; I finished it quickly.
All stats have increased.
After the final ladleful, a strange reek rose from my own mouth and hit my nose.
“…I think my breath smells weird.”
“Hahaha! Want me to disinfect it with booze, Allen?”
Not a bad idea, actually.
“Yeah.”
“Special service!”
I took the bottle she offered and drank deep. The sharp liquor burned my nostrils, but it was still infinitely better than the elixir stench. I emptied nearly half the bottle before speaking again.
“I can live again…”
“You’re not getting drunk, are you, Allen?”
Thanks to all of you I’ve been drinking so much this barely registers.
Now, the stats—
“…Allen. This.”
“Ah, sorry.”
Clara was still holding the pan. Right—finish cooking first, check later. I added the rice to the sautéed ingredients and fried everything until it was perfectly crispy and fragrant.
“Looks delicious!”
“…Yeah. It looks good.”
I’d made plenty, figuring four people would be eating. As I portioned it out, Caesius spoke.
“I’ll need to polymorph to eat.”
“You were planning to eat like that?”
“If I fill my stomach in this form, I won’t need to eat for a week even while polymorphed.”
“…Just eat every day like a normal person.”
Trying to fill a dragon’s belly would take more than a whole cow.
Caesius shifted into her human form and took a bite of the fried rice I handed her.
“Better than I expected.”
“Mmm! It’s good, Allen!”
“…Delicious.”
Everyone’s positive reaction was a relief.
Hearing that the food tastes good…
That might be the only moment a porter ever feels his own worth…
When the contract period ends, I hope I can feel something like this in combat too.
With that thought I shoveled a big spoonful into my mouth.
…Yeah. It was good.
“…They’re having a great time.”
It was Erinn. She had been watching Allen’s group. Not spying, exactly—she had only come to fetch them because the auction was about to start and they still hadn’t appeared.
“Erinn, can’t we just go over and eat with them…?”
Beside her, Freya was practically drooling, all saintly dignity abandoned in the face of pure appetite.
“…I came to bring them back anyway. Do whatever you want~.”
“Really?”
“I’ll head back first~. You bring them, Freya.”
“Okay!”
Freya burst out of the bushes at a run, shouting,
“Everyone! The auction’s starting soon! Were you all out here eating something delicious without us?!”
As Freya approached, Allen and the others scrambled to explain that it wasn’t like that at all. Naturally they ended up handing her the leftovers and gathering around to finish the meal together.
Erinn quietly watched Allen chatting so easily with the other girls, then let out a soft sigh.
“…I brought this on myself.”
She regretted, just a little, the choices she had made in the past.
Yet if she were forced to choose again, she would make the exact same decisions. They had been the right ones. They had been for everyone’s sake… no—for Allen’s sake.
Even so…
Erinn looked at him. Sometimes he gave hollow laughs of pure disbelief, sometimes forced smiles… but there were also moments like this, when he smiled freely and without guard.
Just not at her. At the other girls.
“…You don’t have to smile that easily for them.”
She spat the tangled, sticky feelings out of her mouth, then turned her back and walked away.