Potions and Quiet Surveillance
With the potions carefully cradled in my hands, I headed straight back to the house. Without a dedicated potion belt, there wasn’t much I could do while carrying them around. Then again, I didn’t use potions often enough to justify buying one on impulse. ‘It’s not like I’ve ever even drunk one before.’
Truth was, the issue ran deeper than frequency. I had no memory of ever putting a potion to my lips. Minor cuts and scrapes were handled with cheap ointment, not by chugging expensive liquids. This wasn’t a world where you downed potions for every scratch or nick. Potions were for when you were on the verge of collapse, or when your body was torn to rags yet your mind still clung to consciousness. So even though I figured I might need them someday, right now they felt unnecessary.
The door clicked open without a trace of awkwardness. It already felt like my own place. Sis, lounging on the sofa, lifted her head at the sound and spoke.
“You’re back early?”
“Just dropping something off… Sis, you use potions, right?”
The question came out flat, almost mechanical, yet oddly familiar. Without even glancing at the sofa, I walked toward the empty potion rack and asked. Her relaxed voice drifted over from the couch.
“If I’ve got them, I’ll use as many as I need.”
“Then I’ll stock the shelf. Check before you use them.”
After hearing the answer I’d expected, I began slotting the potion bottles into the empty holes one by one. Glass clinked softly as the rack filled. To my eyes they all looked the same, but seasoned mercenaries could apparently tell the types apart at a glance.
The rustle of her sitting up reached me, followed by her voice again.
“Where’d you get those? You didn’t buy them yourself.”
Her tone carried absolute certainty that I hadn’t paid for them. She wasn’t wrong—I’d never bought potions with my own money. Explaining the whole story would take too long, though, and I’d already sworn an oath of secrecy. In the end I skipped the details and gave her only the conclusion.
“Got them from a request. I’m heading out again.”
“Mm. Go on, then.”
She moved straight to the potion rack while I slipped back outside, using the excuse to dodge further questions. With her halfhearted send-off, I stepped onto the street once more. Time to get used to the new weapon in earnest.
“Kkiiieeeek—!”
‘Feels strangely smooth.’
Wang and I left the city and immediately tested the blade against adult boars in the forest. The squeal that usually got described as “a pig having its throat cut” rang out, sharp enough to tear at the eardrums. Monsters near Wang were the kind that normally died in one hit from a dagger anyway. In terms of raw attack power, the difference wasn’t obvious yet. I’d probably need to fight something around Selindale—monsters that used to take more than ten dagger stabs—to really feel the change. Still, when it came to reach, the one-handed sword was clearly superior. A dagger forced you into extreme close combat, while this let me keep some distance.
But it wasn’t without drawbacks…
‘Ugh.’
The problem showed itself after the fight. Staring at the gruesome sight, I let out a silent scream of disgust. Unlike a dagger, which left relatively small wounds, the sword carved deep gashes through hide and flesh. Entrails had burst out, mixing filth with meat and leather—an image that turned the stomach no matter how much blood you’d seen. Even if I hauled the carcass to a butcher, they’d just curse me out and refuse it on the spot.
‘Every weapon’s got its pros and cons, huh…’
Realizing once again that no perfect upgrade existed, I spent the rest of the day hunting and training.
Time passed. Morning came again to Karsion. I sat in what was slowly starting to feel like my seat and glanced sideways at the person next to me. Arian, on my right, was calmly starting her own day with her usual blank expression. She looked exactly the same as always, as if yesterday had never happened.
By the time lunch approached and she still hadn’t shown any reaction, I was beginning to wonder if yesterday had even been real. Then—
Press.
A small, unknown pressure touched the outside of my right thigh.
‘Huh?’
The spot was on the outer side of my right thigh. I didn’t need to wonder who it was. Only Arian could reach me like that. From the shadowed space beneath the desk, a signal had been sent. I turned my head slightly and looked down. Between slender fingers was a tiny folded note.
Without a word I took it. Her fingers withdrew as if their job was done, returning to their original position with shameless ease. Hiding the note in the creases of my palm, I pretended to reach into my bag and unfolded it with my fingertips.
[Library after lunch]
The message was brutally concise, written in careless strokes that suggested she didn’t care about anyone else’s schedule. The note was guiding me to the library—a place I’d had zero intention of visiting for the past three years.
‘I was planning to go to the training ground.’
Everything in the library was magic-related. In other words, the current me had no reason to go there at all. Life at the Academy was getting more tangled by the day, like threads knotting together. The neat “training ground” written on my mental schedule was being overwritten against my will.
When lunch began, students poured out of the classroom. Those who weren’t in a hurry for food lingered in the hallway, stretching their free time. On the way to the cafeteria I ran into Kair.
“Hey, heading straight to the training ground?”
He greeted me like it was the most natural thing in the world. The hallway was quiet except for our footsteps, and I could feel curious glances flicking between us. Keeping my expression neutral, I answered the way I usually would.
“Not today…”
“Why? Got other plans?”
Most people would’ve let it go, but Kair kept prying, genuinely curious. Every conversation at the Academy was information.
“Nothing like that… I just have something to take care of elsewhere.”
Recalling my conversation with Arian, I gave a vague excuse to hide my real destination. Kair tilted his head, then shrugged like it didn’t matter.
“Really? Guess I’ll train alone today.”
‘Phew.’
Relieved that he’d accepted it so easily, I quickened my steps toward the cafeteria. Thankfully, he didn’t press further. After the usual quick meal, I walked down the now-empty hallway and found the library.
It was one floor above the first-year classrooms, at the end of the second-year corridor right beside the stairs. During my three years at the Academy I’d never once imagined setting foot here. Even as a mercenary who couldn’t use magic, I was now entering the repository of knowledge as a student.
Quite a few students were already inside, regardless of year or gender. I didn’t have any particular book in mind, but standing around doing nothing felt awkward, so I browsed the shelves anyway. Fundamentals of Pure Magic, Understanding Elemental Magic, The Relationship Between Incantations and Power. No matter how carefully I read the titles, almost every book was about magic. To someone who didn’t even know the first thing about it, they might as well have been stories from another world.
Still, maybe there was something worth reading… While I was flipping through the shelves, a familiar voice spoke.
“So you were here.”
I looked up through a gap between the books. Arian’s face appeared on the other side. She casually stepped around, pulled out a book, and stood with her back to me while facing the opposite shelf.
We were in a corner filled with unpopular titles, so no other students were nearby. After making sure we were alone, I lowered my voice.
“Why the library…?”
A soft rustle of hair brushing fabric came from behind me. After checking our surroundings once more, her quiet voice answered.
“I can’t just leave you alone. I’m keeping an eye on you myself.”
‘What…?’
The blunt, matter-of-fact words left me stunned. I stared at the back of her head in disbelief. Surely she wasn’t serious… But people’s determination to protect a secret was far more persistent than I’d thought. To an outsider it might have looked like a cute secret rendezvous, but this was clearly surveillance laced with suspicion. Even as spring slipped toward summer, that watchful gaze showed no sign of easing.