Episode 3-a. The Flower That Smells of Rotting Corpses
A full day had passed. The sun that had risen in the east peeked timidly through the massive clouds dumping snow, and now it hung over the western ridgeline. The snow still fell. True to winter, the sky darkened swiftly without a hint of sunset, blanketing the world in pure white flakes.
And.
"The twins and Aberly are still hacking away, kid."
"Yeah, looks like it. Then... uh, I'll go alone, so you watch the barn, old man."
I said that as I bundled up, loosening my body stiffened by the cold.
"You sure you'll be okay? That arm of yours still doesn't look right."
"Well... if nothing happens, yeah. And I can't just leave those three who can't even think straight."
As the old man worried, my arm still wasn't working properly. Fresh skin was growing under the thick bandages, but pus kept soaking through, so I had to change them over and over. Of course, even fighting with a busted arm was better than my early days as a rookie adventurer. Hell, I could beat the old me—the one locked in the gym just bulking up—by slapping both cheeks thirty times and tap-dancing with full spirit.
"You're going because it doesn't look like nothing's happening. What kinda bullshit is that?"
"Ah, just shut up if you got outranked, old man."
I shot back curtly at the grumbling geezer and opened the door. A blast of cold wind rushed in.
"What, you little... Hey, you damn human brat, you don't know I went easy on you and you're spouting that crap?!"
"No, it's true. And I went easy on you too, considering my arm hurts. You even got a badge of honor on your eye socket."
Sure enough, the old man had a nasty purple bruise around his eye.
"Human who doesn't respect his elders."
"Elder who can't act his age."
I kept firing back until I was out the door, and from inside the slammed-shut barn came a torrent of curses. I didn't know about elder respect, but elder-beating? Anytime.
Anyway.
The reason I was venturing out into this snowstorm was that Gold Sun and the gal pals still hadn't returned to the barn after all this time. They hadn't said they'd be quick, but they hadn't mentioned camping overnight either. I'd figured they'd be back by afternoon and waited in the barn, but all that knocked on the door was the smell of rotting corpses, leaving me uneasy.
So here I was, sword at my hip, useful one-use magic tools tucked in my pockets, heading to the village. Things like the explosive magic-engraved stones I couldn't carry into Tebris's weather station after the body search, or defensive barrier kits even non-mages could use. Seriously, adventurer essentials that cost a goddamn fortune. They looked just like roadside pebbles or kids' marbles, which made the markup from a single magic engraving feel like highway robbery.
"..."
So I fiddled with them in my pockets, thinking to myself. This is why science stalls out and hunkers in some backwater corner. Engrave explosion magic on a random pebble, and boom—instant grenade. No way some low-level scientists' cobbled-together gadgets could compete after grinding away at each other.
While mages engraved magic to make hyper-useful tools, the best those science contraptions could do was chop wood or thresh grain. And even that got ignored because of the labor and material costs. Why bother advancing science when you could just squeeze mages for faster, cheaper, mana-only disposable magic items?
So.
"Industrial revolution... Only a scientists' industrial revolution can save this world."
I wished the century's geniuses who led 18th-century Great Britain would reincarnate here and flip the whole damn civilization on its head. Fuck. In a world with magic, why the hell are we still riding horse carriages? Those mage assholes are like entrenched corruption. Someday, I'll give 'em a revolutionary red accident. This is straight-up Bolshevik shit.
Which is why I decided my next companion had to be a scientist as I trudged toward the village.
And.
I hopped the rickety, flimsy fence into the village, but only elders and women milled about.
"Hmm? Ain't you the adventurer lad resting at the barn? What brings you to the village?"
One elder approached me as I scanned around, tapping his staff on the ground. His white hair was thick, and he wore a kindly smile—like he was just an innocent, good-hearted soul who knew nothing.
"...Nothing big. The neat guy and two women I was bunking with at the barn haven't come back."
"Ah... Probably 'cause the fruit harvest ain't done yet. You can still smell the faint flower scent, right? That's why."
The elder nodded vigorously at my question.
"Huh, does harvesting the fruit take that long?"
"Well, yeah. You'd know if you'd seen the flower—it's huge. But it always wraps up before midnight."
Like he said, the flower was bigger than most trees, so even if it fruited only once a month, harvesting all of them could take ages. But.
"So, can I go watch now?"
"...Now?"
"Yeah, since I'm here, I wanna see the harvest."
The rotting corpse stench mixed with the kindly smiles and peaceful scenery made me uneasy for no reason. It dredged up the nagging question I'd had since entering the village about why this tiny hamlet even existed.
"Hmm... Well, if you wanna see it, go quick. There's still... just barely time."
"Thanks, elder."
"No need. We're the grateful ones."
The elder's retreating figure, tapping his staff, looked spry despite the wrinkles. His eyes still shone sharp with age, his speech precise without the mumbling of loose gums or missing teeth.
So.
Watching closely, I realized the staff wasn't really supporting him. The wooden cane tapping the ground did jack shit even as he vanished from sight.
The rotting corpse smell intensified as I climbed the hill. Stronger than last night, the foul, sticky stench of decay clung like actual bodies were rotting nearby. I dry-heaved several times before reaching the ridgeline where the flower came into view.
And.
The massive flower still bloomed, surrounded by villagers using poles to pluck fruit. From afar, it looked like a normal harvest, so maybe my worries were for nothing. I pinched my nose shut and headed over.
The stench thickened as I approached. Strangely, the flower bud held firm, petals fully open and rippling slightly in the wind. Blood-red fruits clung grotesquely to the long, thick stem. The villagers were engrossed in picking, and only a few resting ones noticed me coming from behind and turned.
"Hmm, barn lad? What brings you here sudden-like?"
"Heard it was harvest day, so I came to watch."
Beside the resting villagers towered piles of fruit. Blood-drop-like and round, the creepy things filled several baskets.
"Heh, it's a sight worth seeing."
"But, um..."
"Yeah, got something to say?"
The stem still bristled with fruit, villagers tapping them off with long poles.
"Where are those three who came to watch before me?"
"Oh, those three?"
"They said they'd camp overnight to watch and come back, but they haven't."
The giant flower. Blood-red fruits. Heaps of fruit baskets. Villagers. That's all I saw. Amid the crowd, no boisterous, sunny laugh I'd grown used to rang out. Even in a throng, he wasn't the type to get lost in the shuffle.