[The Liberation of a New Skill Tree?]
Lunchtime at the clinic. The morning rush had passed like a storm, leaving behind a brief moment of peace. I filled a cup with water and snapped my fingers.
Crackle. Bubble.
Using a matchstick lying nearby as a catalyst, a small flame sparked, and the water began to boil in an instant. Even if it wasn't combat magic, daily-life magic could be used as long as one had a catalyst. Even without magical sensitivity, one could force such crude miracles to manifest if they poured enough mana into them. For the record, it goes without saying that casting magic this way doesn't make you a Mage. You wouldn't be standing in front of magical beasts waving a matchstick, would you?
When the water was boiling just right, I stirred in some herb powder—not exactly instant coffee, but close enough. In a world without electric kettles, magic was a fantastic substitute for household appliances.
"Ugh."
I took a sip, and it tasted absolutely terrible. Maybe it was because I used a matchstick as a catalyst. Forget heat control; there was no elegance to it at all. No wonder nobles used expensive tea sets and butlers who specialized in tea. I’d tried it once, but I didn't think I’d be making tea this way again.
"Whoa..."
Still, this magic hadn't been a complete failure. Eri, who was munching on a sandwich across from me, had her eyes wide open. Heh. Who am I? A genius who mastered the basics of magic in three months at the age of twelve. From the perspective of a performance meant to show off, this magic was a success.
"Teacher, that was magic just now, right? Lighting the fire."
"Yes. It's called daily-life magic."
"Can I learn that too?"
Eri’s eyes sparkled as she pulled her chair closer. Seeing her enthusiasm, the corners of my mouth curled up on their own. That’s right. If you’re my assistant, you shouldn't be timid; you should be like that. You shouldn't give up just because you’re from the Limbus Pit.
"If I have that, I won't need matches, and it'll be convenient when walking at night, too. Just a snap of the fingers, and pop! The light comes on."
Her explanation, complete with hand gestures, was quite passionate. I could see the pure curiosity and sparkling admiration typical of a teenage girl. Thanks to that, a satisfied smile spread across my face.
If I were a master in a typical fantasy novel, I would’ve said, "Oh, I see talent in you," and taught her basic breathing techniques. But in this world, I couldn't do that.
"No."
"Eh? Why?"
"Eri. How old are you?"
"My birthday hasn't passed yet, so eleven."
She’s a few months younger than me. "That’s why you can't. At least wait until your birthday passes before you talk about it again."
Eri pouted. "What does age have to do with it? I’m smart, too."
"It’s not about intelligence."
I set down the tea I’d been drinking naturally. I’d been drinking it for the sake of the persona, but it tasted awful. "You shouldn't learn magic before you’re twelve. It’s prohibited by law."
"Eh? Where is there such a law?"
"Here. In the Empire."
It really exists. Furthermore, if you don't follow it, scary men from the Imperial Palace come down to scold you.
"You're not just saying that because you're too lazy to teach me, are you?"
"No. It’s actually dangerous to learn magic before the age of twelve."
"What’s dangerous about it?"
"If you’re not careful, your body could be ruined, and you might never be able to use magic again."
Eri put down her sandwich and focused on my words. "Really? By what principle?"
"To use magic, your mana circuits need to mature. There are individual differences, but we consider twelve years old to be the safe age when those circuits are fully grown."
"Maybe I’m a faster grower."
"That could be true. But you could also be slower."
There is no way to know if these mana circuits are complete. It’s just an empirical rule that by age twelve, they are safely considered complete. And this was a painful lesson learned from the Empire’s long history of "wrong answer notes."
"Magicians are rare, and Mages are even rarer. The Empire doesn't want to lose talent for such absurd reasons."
So they blocked it by law. This law applies without exception to commoners, peasants, nobles, and even the Imperial family.
"So, unless there’s a special exception, you can't learn magic before twelve."
"What’s that exception?"
"If you awaken it on your own without anyone teaching you, or if you’re in a situation where you’ll die if you don't learn magic... well, there are other cases, but neither applies to you right now."
"Maybe if I do it secretly..."
"Don't even dream about it."
Do you think the Imperial family, which has maintained power for 1,000 years in this hopeless dark fantasy world, looks like a joke? If you break that rule, they find out like ghosts, and the "scold-you" men come. Once they mobilize, it’s not just a Barony; even a Marquisate has to be prepared for total annihilation. Naturally, erasing a slum district like this from the map wouldn't be a problem for them either.
"So, wait one year."
"Then can I learn it then?"
"Probably."
Honestly, even I’m not sure. I don't know if the Central Magic Administration would allow it. Magic is treated almost like a firearm in this world, so you have to report it from the moment you start learning. After you learn it, you have to register as a Magician or a Mage. They even refuse to grant permits if they think you’re dangerous based on the type of magic, your criminal record, or your background. Because of that, it’s hard for those from the slums to get magic permits. It’s been even stricter since some crazy slum-dweller went on a rampage in Sanctum Hill about 100 years ago.
'I suppose if I said I’d take responsibility, they might grant a permit...'
Well, that’s something to think about when the time comes. "Now, if you’re done with brunch, let’s prepare for the next patient. We have to finish morning rounds and leave early today, so it’ll be busy."
"What was the afternoon schedule?"
"I have an experiment to conduct at Wangcho’s slaughterhouse. We’re going there."
"Okay~"
When we arrived at the slaughterhouse, Wangcho’s subordinates were in the middle of disassembling pigs. It was a process of carefully separating the lungs for use in neonatal surfactants and cautiously removing the pancreas for insulin so it wouldn't be damaged. Recently, a process of separating the small intestines and scraping the inside had been added.
Eri, standing beside me in my crow mask, held her nose. "Ugh. It smells like poop. You’re not making medicine out of that poop, are you?"
"No. I’m making it out of the intestines."
I was going to make Heparin out of those pigs' small intestines. It’s a drug that dissolves blood clots. It’s also a terminal-grade weapon that can be used in internal medicine.
'I feel like I could start a cult with just this one thing.'
Even in this world, strokes or myocardial infarctions caused by blood clots are the worst diseases that even holy magic can't cure. If you administer Heparin to such a person and they stand up, that’s no different from a divine miracle or the second coming of a saint. If I add a line like "Rise and walk," wow, that’s an Isekai Jesus complete.
Of course, I have no intention of starting a cult. No matter how much of a protagonist in a misunderstanding story I am, if I start a cult with the intention of deceiving people, the protagonist’s protection will wear off. Unless the genre is picaresque or xianxia, I needed to avoid such bad deeds as much as possible.
"But Teacher."
Eri asked, peering into the bucket containing the washed small intestines. "Is this a necessary medicine?"
"Necessary? It’s essential."
"Hmm..."
Eri tilted her head. It’s a world where the principle of a stroke, let alone the concept of a blood clot, isn't properly understood. It would be hard for her to understand why it needs to be dissolved.
"Well, if Teacher says it’s necessary, then it must be."
I watched Eri, who shrugged her shoulders, in silence. In reality, I was making this medicine because of her. The PNH (Paroxysmal Nocturnal Hemoglobinuria) she suffers from has a high incidence of strokes due to blood clots. She’s fine for now, but by the time she passes twenty, the danger will rise exponentially. Therefore, if I can't cure PNH, I’m making Heparin in advance to at least prepare for a stroke.
'Thanks to magic, it’s also become easy to control the enzyme temperature.'
Recently, temperature control has become possible through magic. For the enzymes to work properly to make Heparin, the water must be kept between 37 and 40 degrees, but I didn't have the technology to adjust this temperature delicately before. Now, I can solve that to some extent with magic.
'As expected. It was an event telling me to go down the alchemy route.'
And as a bonus, I gained confidence in which direction I should develop my magic following this incident.
"Hey, you bastard!"
Just then, my thoughts were cut off by a shout from nearby. It was Wangcho. The middle-aged man wearing an apron was grabbing a young man who looked like a new recruit by the collar.
"Do you know how much this one intestine is worth? Huh?!"
"I, I’m sorry!"
"The value of this one small intestine is more than your own...!"
Wangcho, who had been shouting, made eye contact with me. A brief silence. Then he continued to speak. With his voice lowered slightly.
"...well, it’s not more precious than yours... but still, be careful! If it gets damaged like this, we can't sell it!"
"I’m sorry..."
"Sigh. Let’s just deduct a little from your salary. Originally, I was going to deduct as much as the damage you caused, but since you have to keep working here, I’ll only deduct one day’s worth. No complaints, right?"
"Yes? Yes!"
The new recruit hurriedly gathered the pieces of small intestine scattered on the floor. And disappeared as if running away. Eri, watching the scene, was impressed.
"Wow, Wangcho’s personality has become a lot softer."
"..."
What on earth are you doing when I’m not watching for you to be evaluated like this by a child...?
Wangcho, having finished his employee training, sighed deeply and walked over to me.
"You’ve arrived, Teacher Schnabel."
"Wangcho. You’re working hard."
"The small intestines are being prepared smoothly. But, you see..."
Wangcho scratched his head. "The process yield is good, but... ha, we’re getting some complaints."
"Complaints?"
"The butchers. They’re making a fuss, saying the small intestine casings are being delivered too late and they don't have any for making sausages. They’re acting like they’re going to go out of business tomorrow... even though they’re not worth much money... I can't just bury them all..."
Ah, I see. Sausages are a serious matter. I’m someone who makes sausages by putting meat directly into casings when I cook, so I sympathize.
"Are there many complaints?"
"A lot. Just this morning, three butcher shop owners came and made a fuss. Teacher, can’t you do something about this?"
"Hmm."
I rested my chin on my hand and thought. "How are you currently processing them?"
"Yes? Well, I’m doing as you ordered. Cutting the belly and scraping it with a spoon as much as possible without damaging it..."
That’s the problem. How are you going to scrape all those small intestines with a spoon? It seems they’re trying to scrape them delicately because they’re precious, but if they do that, the delivery of casings is bound to be late. Furthermore, scraping with a spoon actually makes them tear more easily.
"Don't do that, do this instead."
I picked up a small intestine that hadn't been processed yet. I broke a beer bottle rolling in the corner of the slaughterhouse, leaving only the mouth, making it look like a funnel. I pushed the small intestine into it and said to Eri.
"Pull it, straight through."
"Ugh... it’s slippery."
Eri grabbed the other side of the small intestine and pulled. Passing through the narrow gap of the bottle, the mucous membranes inside the small intestine were pushed out and spilled toward the mouth. Plop. Splat. On the other side, a transparent, thin membrane with the mucous membranes cleanly removed came out. It was a perfect sausage casing.
At the incredibly easy process, Wangcho’s jaw dropped.
"...Is it okay to do this? We’re going to use it for medicine, so shouldn't we scrape it carefully??"
"You don't really need to scrape the mucous membranes delicately. It doesn't matter if you scrape them roughly; it won't be a problem for using them as medicine."
"Then the casing..."
"This method will actually damage the casing less than a spoon. And the process speed will be faster, too."
"Oh my... they say if you’re ignorant, your body suffers. I guess it’s my fate to never escape the Limbus Pit."
Afterward, I discussed with Wangcho about a funnel to replace the beer bottle. The principle wasn't anything special, so we decided to have a blacksmith custom-make it. The separated casings went to the butcher, and the remaining mucous membranes went to me. Isn't this killing two birds with one stone?
"Thank you, Teacher."
"I’ll take the mucous membranes."
I had Eri carry the bucket containing the mucous membranes. One might ask what I’m doing to a young girl, but that’s why I brought her on as an assistant in the first place. And I recently learned after feeding her well that she’s stronger than me. Is it because she has the potential to be a Mage? ...Still, it hurts my pride a little.
"Let’s eat lunch at Civitas Square today."
I said to Eri, who was carrying the bucket of mucous membranes beside me. Usually, I would eat a packed lunch because of afternoon rounds, but today I had to go up for afternoon research. I have to borrow the merchant guild’s lab to make the medicine.
"Really? Is a buffet okay, too?"
"Of course."
That day’s lunch was a buffet. Seeing her eat meat well even after visiting the slaughterhouse, I thought her stomach must be quite strong.
A few months passed like that. The Heparin extraction was smooth, and the clinic remained busy. Winter in the red-light district was cold, and there were many patients. That was about the same level as previous years.
'Is this my second year in the red-light district now?'
Around this time last year, I was busy because my youngest brother was being born. It seemed like the heavy snow season would start soon, too.
'I should make the medicine in advance.'
During last year’s heavy snow season, too many people died. I can't be here for them, but I should make sure those who need it can get the medicine from Wangcho in advance.
'If it comes to it, I’ll tell them not to punish people for stealing food from the clinic.'
You never know. There might be a Jean Valjean out there who needs help this winter. In a world like this, having one priest for such people wouldn't be bad. Ah, was it a Bishop, not a priest? Anyway.
That day, after finishing morning rounds, I headed to the meat restaurant "Fleischhof" run by Wangcho.
"Erica, walk slowly. You’ll fall."
Arriving at the restaurant, I looked up. On the roof with eaves curved toward the sky, an Imperial-language sign was hung prominently. And below that Imperial language, Beastman characters resembling ancient Eastern scripts were engraved in gold leaf, reading Fleischhof—the House of Wealth and Longevity.
Lowering my gaze, red lanterns soaked in grease dangled on both sides of the circular door frame.
"Teacher! They say sausage came into Fleischhof today, should we have that for lunch?"
"Let’s look at what meat came in yesterday before we decide."
When I opened the door and entered, a two-story structure that opened up to the ceiling unfolded. In the center hall, dozens of square wooden tables were packed together, and Wangcho’s female employees with towels draped over their shoulders were busy moving meat dishes between them. I don't know much about martial arts novels, but I know this structure is an inn and those employees should be called waitresses. But the menu is Western-style.
'I can't get used to it every time I see it.'
I wondered where to start pointing things out, but now I decided to just leave it as Wangcho’s sense of style and not pay attention to it.
I was heading to the reserved room at the entrance of that hybrid place. Wangcho, who had been waiting for me with his arms crossed in front of the room, called me over.
"Teacher. Do you have a moment?"
The man who had been smiling broadly called me with a serious face. It was identical to the expression the emergency medicine professor I had in my past life wore when he waited for me while I was going out for lunch. Suddenly, my appetite dropped.
"...What is it, Wangcho?"
"Wouldn't you like to go up a little earlier this year?"
What Wangcho proposed was to go up before the snow came.
"The atmosphere in the H-Sector is unusual these days. I don't know what those guys ate wrong, but they’ve lost their minds and are crawling up to our D-Sector."
"They must have lost their minds because the heavy snow season is coming soon."
Eri interrupted from beside me. "It’s the season where they cut each other’s throats to grab one more trash bag before the heavy snow comes."
"Eri. Use polite language."
"Hing."
What is this talk of cutting throats from a 12-year-old? Still, the meaning was conveyed. It was roughly a story about the hibernation period approaching, similar to wild animals coming down to human villages.
"I understand. When should I go up?"
"If possible, it would be best if you went up today."
Wangcho looked around and whispered to me.
"We need to have a little scuffle among our own trash during the heavy snow season. It wouldn't be a very good sight for someone like you, so please take Erica and go up. I’ll contact you once the situation is settled."