Dolls (2)

An alchemist's room looks much the same no matter where you go.

The room Berry led me to was lined with flasks full of every kind of reagent. Even ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠with the stoppers sealed tight, the sharp chemical smell still stung the nose—she mixed compounds whenever she had a spare moment.

Beside the flasks sat an assortment of magitech tools. They were pieces she'd submitted as assignments, and not one of them showed a sloppy finish. The craftsmanship of a skilled alchemist.

"I still can't believe I actually brought a guy back here… It doesn't feel real."

Berry muttered as if she still couldn't quite process it. Then she whipped her head around. Suspicion glinted in the eyes that fixed on me.

"You don't have some weird ulterior motive, right? Asking me to take you all the way to my room is pretty suspicious."

"You're worrying over nothing. Why would I have designs on you? I'm not an idiot."

"…That's the answer I wanted, and somehow it still pisses me off."

Even reassuring her got me in trouble.

Berry pouted, but in the end she said nothing more. The conversation stalled, and I was fishing for some decent small talk when something caught my eye.

At the far end of the table, well away from her reagent cabinet, a neat row of dolls sat on display.

They varied in size, but most shared the same basic form—bulging muscles, a wild, rugged face, splendid armor and a scabbard. The same look as the "Armored Knight HR3" she'd shouted about when those thugs were harassing her.

She put a lot of care into these.

Back in my old life, the guys who were into figures and plastic models had always obsessed over the finish. Berry seemed to have the same streak; the dolls gleamed with polish. You could tell she'd poured real effort into them.

"Between that armored knight thing earlier and these… You into this kind of stuff?"

"…Yeah."

Berry hesitated a beat at my question, then admitted it straight out.

"Making dolls is my hobby. So what."

"Who said anything? I was just asking."

"Hmph. You're about to say it too, aren't you? That I'm way too old to be playing with dolls. That I'm no princess, so what's with the knight dolls. I already know."

This girl had a serious persecution complex.

"Why would I say that? People can have whatever hobbies they want."

"What? …You mean that?"

"Would I be lying?"

Behind her glasses, Berry's eyes narrowed to slits. She really was the type who didn't trust a word anyone said.

"Anyway. Here's the actual point. I need you to process this item."

The mood had lightened enough, so I pulled the Werewolf's Lung from my coat.

Even though the werewolf had been dead for quite a while, the organ still felt fresh. The Werewolf's Lung remained perfectly preserved, still full of vitality—proof of just how high its quality was.

"This is…"

Berry carefully took the Werewolf's Lung from my hand and leaned in close. She even pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose; those lenses were probably a magic tool themselves.

"A Werewolf's Lung. And a really high-quality one, at that."

"You recognized it right away."

"Of course. For an alchemist, this much is basic."

She turned the lung over in her hands, brought it close, and even sniffed it. After running through several appraisals, Berry finally voiced the real question.

"Where did you get this?"

"…"

"You can't find something like this in Olympia. You'd have to run into a monster in a dungeon or something. And the academy hasn't posted any missions for it."

"You're pretty sharp."

"An alchemist can't just accept items without asking questions. …Tell me what you're really after."

So she wasn't going to make this easy.

Berry wasn't a fool. Swallowing an item of unknown origin whole could get her torn apart by the faculty. Being cautious was only natural.

But I can't let her walk away.

Berry was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the only alchemist I could entrust the Werewolf's Lung to. That meant I had to lower her guard—with a tempting enough carrot.

"I can't tell you where it came from. That's exactly why I came to you in the first place."

"…Me? I'm nobody."

"That's not true."

Berry Rosemary, second-year in the Mage Department.

In Song of Sword and Magic, she was little more than an extra whose only real role was being Penelope's friend. But if you took the mage route, she turned out to be surprisingly useful.

You want me to process this item? …Well, for you, I'll make a special exception.

In the original story, she was a skilled alchemist only the protagonist could make use of—far cheaper than other alchemists, and outstandingly competent. Every time the hero needed an item converted, she quietly pulled her weight. That was Berry.

"You can do it. I know you've got the skill."

"…And who are you to say that?"

"Well, if that doesn't interest you, I'll offer different terms."

I grinned and closed my fingers around the lung, giving it a light squeeze as if wringing blood from it.

"The 'blood' that comes out while processing the Werewolf's Lung. You can keep all of it."

"What?"

Berry's eyes went comically wide.

When you commissioned an alchemist, every byproduct normally belonged to the client. What the contractor got was the fee they charged—nothing more. Touching the item itself was off-limits. And here I was offering that as a condition. No wonder she looked stunned.

"What are you talking about? That's ridiculous—"

"No, Berry. That isn't what matters."

Truthfully, I wasn't losing anything on the deal.

Werewolf's Blood raised the drinker's magic stat. But I had Magic Insensitivity; no matter how much of the stuff I drank, it meant nothing to me. Sure, I could have sold it to some other alchemist for cash.

But then Berry would refuse.

She needed something to gain before she'd open up. If the cost was necessary, I was more than willing to pay it.

"What matters is why you should take my offer. You're already getting pushed around by those thugs. Don't you need to get stronger?"

"…"

"Drink the blood. Build your power. Or if you'd rather not, sell it for money. Do whatever you want."

Berry would never get another chance at something as precious as Werewolf's Blood. If she walked away from this deal with it, the benefit was all hers—and it was practice for her alchemy on top of that.

"Fine."

Berry ran the numbers in her head, then nodded and accepted.

"I've got plenty of questions, but I'll drop them. Digging into a client's secrets isn't an alchemist's place."

"Smart call."

That settled it.

Processing and taking the Werewolf's Lung before the Act One boss fight would definitely help. I'd left it with someone skilled and honest, so I didn't have to worry about getting scammed.

"I'll be going, then. Business is done."

"…Wait."

After telling her what to process it into, I figured we were finished and started for the door—only for Berry's thin hand to catch the hem of my clothes.

"?"

What was this? Why grab me all of a sudden? What happened to the girl who'd just told me not to get any ideas?

Berry's dark eyes looked up at me. The expression on her face said there was something she absolutely had to ask.

"Why did you help me?"

"What?"

"Why did you protect me from those bitches? You didn't have to."

"Would you rather I hadn't?"

"That's not what I mean."

She shook her head. Even she looked embarrassed saying it, but she forced the question out clearly.

"…If all you wanted was someone to process an item, you could've just ignored it. You didn't need to pick a fight with those girls."

"…"

"Why stand up for me right there? There was… nothing in it for you."

So that's what was bothering her.

I was starting to understand what kind of girl Berry was. Falling short of her own standards, the self-loathing that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠came with it—and the stubborn pride that kept her from leaning on anyone else's help. She was tougher than she looked.

That's probably why she's hiding things from Penelope, too.

Whatever the reason, Berry wanted to handle this without her. She wanted to drive those thugs off on her own.

"And that's not the only weird part."

Berry's questions kept coming. She was voicing the one thing everyone who'd watched me had been wondering.

"How… how does someone change that much in a little over a month?"

"…"

She'd put her finger on it: what had made Heracle Leonhardt turn one hundred and eighty degrees.

Hmm.

I'd figured someone would ask eventually. Now that the moment was here, I didn't have a clean answer ready.

What was I supposed to say? That I'd been isekai'd into this body? That I'd woken up with a physical cheat? Neither one was something I could just spill.

"…I think you're amazing. And I'm jealous."

"…"

"You, winning Penelope's favor. You, who used to be in the same boat as me and then completely changed. I… envy you."

"…Right."

She was laying her heart bare a little too deep, a little too fast. I hadn't planned on peeling back this much of who Berry was.

But we'd come this far. Backing out wasn't an option. I owed her a serious answer of my own.

Berry's real questions boiled down to two things.

Why did you help me?

How did you change?

…Honestly, a proper answer was hard. There wasn't a single person in this world who could fully understand my situation.

So I decided to give her the most fitting, most plausible answer I could.

"You don't need a reason."

"…!"

"Does helping someone need a reason? Does changing your mind need a reason? No. It doesn't."

That was the truth. Reasons weren't required. Getting dropped into a game world out of nowhere, having to throw everything I had into surviving—none of that was the kind of thing you could justify by asking why.

What mattered was this.

"Because I have to. Because I want to."

"…Ah."

"That's all it is."

To survive, you did what you had to. And if something needed doing along the way, you did it.

It wasn't a perfect answer… but it would do. She probably hadn't asked expecting to be fully convinced anyway.

"Good enough? I'm heading out."

"…"

"Don't just sit there taking it. If it gets too much, come talk to me. I'm leaving the item with you—I'm counting on you."

I gave a rough wave and stepped out through the door, never seeing the look on Berry's face on the other side. I had no way of knowing she'd stood there staring after me for a long, long time.

The room Heracle had left behind.

In the quiet that settled over it again, Berry walked slowly toward the edge of the reagent cabinet—to the place where the dolls she'd made stood in a row.

"…"

She picked up her cherished Armored Knight HR3 and held it close. Bulging muscles, a wild and rugged face, splendid armor and a scabbard. The image of the "hero" she always painted deep in her heart.

As she gazed at it, the words that guy had spoken a moment ago came back to her.

You don't need a reason.

Because I have to. Because I want to.

Those lines were the kind she'd read a hundred times in storybooks. They sounded just like the hero she'd always longed for.

"…Weird."

The more she learned about him, the weirder he seemed. That thought made her fidget absently with the doll in her hands.

Time passed, day after day.

Early one morning in the lecture halls of Olympia Academy, a notice plastered across the wall of the administration office drew every student's eye.

The Inter-Year Exchange Tournament had begun.