If It Exists (3)

"Are you going to tell me about the qualifications?"

Meister fixed his grandfather with a stare, eyes glittering — eyes whose original color he could no longer even remember. Expectation and a spark of excitement filled them both.

"No."

Cheongsanho cut him down without hesitation, reading every last flicker of that feeling. The anticipation on Meister's face went cold in an instant, and a chill settled over the room. Not even the warm brown of his hair or the soft pink of its tips could hide an expression as wintry as that.

"Then why the hell are you telling me to go?"

Meister pushed his glasses up by the bridge with his middle finger. Every other finger stayed folded; ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the middle finger alone did the work, and the gesture was glaringly deliberate.

"Where did you leave your respect?"

"Sold it off ages ago."

"……"

But Cheongsanho knew his grandson's temper well enough. He blew out a long breath through his nose and poured himself some of the tea his old friend had brought. Aren't you giving me any? his grandson's eyes cursed at him.

"I'll say it again. I'm not telling you about 'that.'"

"Fine. Have it your way… I guess."

Not that that was any of Cheongsanho's concern.

He made his judgment. For all the boy's faults, that head of his was sharp enough — if Cheongsanho had gone this far, Meister would have understood plenty already.

"……"

And sure enough, his grandson seemed to grasp something. He stopped mid-sentence and shut his throat. Classic him — a creature who just barely papered over two fatal flaws with a pair of virtues: brains, and a halfhearted effort to serve some greater good.

The soft gurgle of tea refilling a cup. Cheongsanho's lips kept moving.

"That said, this isn't a proposal that costs you anything either."

"…Why not?"

"Even if you stay here, there isn't anything you can actually do, is there?"

Nice and warm. Cheongsanho savored the heat seeping into his palms as he sipped the tea little by little.

"Workshop, materials, money — all of it gone up in smoke. Knowing your habits, you won't have savings set aside, so there's nowhere to scrape emergency funds from either."

Of course, compared to what he used to drink, the fragrance and the taste were both miserable. Preference had nothing to do with it; the quality of the leaves was simply too low.

"In a situation like that, how do you expect to do any research? And before research even comes into it — what about the commissions that were already in? If a client is kind enough to extend the deadline, fine, but the ones demanding a full refund? You won't even have the money to pay them back."

Then again, given the present state of things — and the outlook ahead — even this tea counted as a luxury.

So Cheongsanho, rather than complain, waited for his tongue to adapt to the inferior product. Though looking at it now, he suspected the habit of simply not drinking tea would take root long before his palate grew less particular.

"…I'll grant I'm in exactly that kind of mess right now. But following them around doesn't solve any of it either, does it?"

"Becoming a collaborator of the Hero makes a fairly decent excuse when you need people to cut you some slack. The moment you refuse, you risk being branded a heretic — who in their right mind would turn that down?"

"That's just thuggery."

"And you say that like it's somehow news."

"……"

Meister's brow furrowed at Cheongsanho's words. He couldn't quite deny it, and yet it still left a bad taste. The feeling sat right there in the creases between his eyebrows. Ridiculous boy, through and through.

"Any problems that come up even after you've explained yourself — I'll handle those. As your grandfather, I can do at least that much."

"You're the one taking the bigger hit here."

"Do I look like the sort who keeps everything piled in one place the way you do?"

That part, at least, was sincere. The Magic Tower might be one step from ruin, but surely they still had more money than a private craftsman? After a lifetime of accumulation, was Cheongsanho really going to be left penniless by a single incident?

"I've got investments in other cities. Call those in, borrow from the other Tower Masters, and we can put out the immediate fires."

"Oh……"

They said a rich man stays rich for three generations even after ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠going under. Cheongsanho was no different. The core of his fortune might be gone, but the assets he'd spread around were still there.

"So stop worrying about this side and go with them."

"Even so……"

"More than anything — I don't think you actually want to work for the people of this city."

But the part that startled Meister most wasn't the remaining money. It was that last remark.

His raised eyebrows registered a flicker of surprise. How unexpected.

"You're that sure?"

"I know exactly how much you hate the claim that something is 'a sacrifice for everyone.' There's no way a person like you would be happy about this situation. And you never loved this city enough to override that dislike either."

From their first meeting to the present day, Meister's likes and dislikes had always been fairly clear-cut.

And because of that, Cheongsanho had a solid enough grasp of his grandson's general preferences — if not every last one. So this much was hardly a shocking prediction.

"I'm not exactly sacrificing anything."

"But they will have dumped the responsibility on you all the same, won't they? Because you're that good. Because you can finish the job faster than anyone."

He also had a fair sense of how the people outside would put his grandson to use. The boy really did have a useless surplus of talent.

"So I'm saying — if you're going to be stuck doing something you hate anyway, just go. Whether you stay here or follow them, research is going to be hard either way. And if that's the case, better to pick the side that at least gives you more free time."

But did all that talent really have to be spent on this city alone?

Cheongsanho lifted his head and looked into his grandson's violet eyes. Eyes that had once been mottled, but after the aftereffects of the experiment were erased had settled into a single unified color.

He had brought the boy to this city because he wanted him to live as he pleased — not because he meant to chain him here.

Just because Cheongsanho loved this city did not mean his grandson had to love it too.

"People say if you have ability, you should use it for everyone. But of the people who say that, precious few ever remember that the one with the ability is also just one human being."

"Human folly."

"…If you sincerely want to stay because you're worried about this city, I won't stop you. But if that isn't it, stop reading the room and choose what's better for your own life. This place isn't going to collapse because one person leaves. And if you stay out of some thin goodwill, you'll just get worked for low wages and end up with nothing but disappointment."

"I won't get paid for the labor if I go with them either."

"In exchange, you'll get to see the world you never got to see. And considering they hunt demons as a priority, you should be able to pick up a fair amount of byproducts along the way."

"…The people in the city are going to curse me out."

"And is that enough to keep you from going?"

"As if."

Good. That was the answer he wanted.

Cheongsanho looked fondly at a grandson who would only dig at his ear no matter who criticized or slandered him. Whether that was an objectively bad personality didn't matter. As a grandfather, if his grandson could live comfortably, other people's blood pressure was none of his business.

"But I don't think there's much I can actually do if I follow the Hero."

"Who knows."

Even so… he hoped that foul-tempered grandson of his would, for at least one person's sake, refrain from blowing a gasket and actually help instead. Holding the greatest reason he'd wanted to send Meister out of the city, Cheongsanho set down his teacup.

"You've got a commission from that side, don't you?"

"…Wait. That—"

"You've already taken the money. And that commission, at least, absolutely has to be delivered."

The Holy Power filter the Archmage had commissioned had to reach its destination.

"It must. Without fail."

That was the only proper thing to do.

Maybe it was because I'd helped with something that hadn't needed helping. The innkeeper went out of his way to make my stay more comfortable that day.

A little extra food on the plate. Lemon water that normally cost money, offered free of charge. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Conveniences on that modest level.

But was I the sort to just sit there and take it? No — that was the concept.

So every time I received a freebie, I paid it back by helping with the cleaning or hauling heavy things… and as a result I nearly got introduced to his daughter. If she hadn't had to report to the barracks for duty, I would have been stuck for certain.

"Stay just one more day… I can give you half off."

"Haha……"

Another day at half price was a fairly tempting offer, but if the price was having to sit through a matchmaking introduction, that was a bit…

"It's not just because of the introduction. Young man — you're headed for Manahfelt, right? Do you know what a mess the road that way is right now? Haven't you heard the rumor that a demon showed up in the alley that branches off toward there?"

"Ah. That rumor."

On top of that, the debuffs from the Disguise Skill had climbed to a genuinely dangerous level. Defense and resistance cuts, increased damage taken — those I could live with. But the tick damage every second had risen past the point where I could keep ignoring it.

I really had to leave now.

"I've heard of it, yes… but the city sent a subjugation force, so shouldn't it be fine?"

Fortunately, from what I'd picked up walking around yesterday, the city had prepared twenty soldiers, and Manahfelt had sent one knight — apparently the demon's appearance site was closer to here than to Manahfelt, so they'd dispatched him this way — and the lot of them were setting out on a demon hunt.

So it should be fine, right? There were priests mixed into that subjugation force, and yes, I'd have to pass them, but still.

"That's true, but… wouldn't it be better to leave after you've heard they caught it?"

"I don't have the time for that."

From what I'd tested in the Great Forest, I could force the Disguise Skill to hold for five days at most. Really just the bare edge of not dying ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠— the line where my HP clung on at a precarious half.

But could they catch the demon and get back within those five days? I didn't think so. Searching for it took time, killing it took time, and shuttling back and forth to the city took time on top of that.

So if that was how it was going to go, better to leave early and slip past them. It wasn't as if a demon was going to get the better of me anyway.

"So stubborn……"

"Haha. Sorry."

"Don't laugh. I've gotten fond of you."

"If business ever brings me back to this city, I'll come again."

"Right, right. Come early if you can. Before I marry my daughter off."

I smiled gently at an innkeeper who couldn't hide his ambitions to the very end. I probably wouldn't be coming back here, but some things were better left unknown.

"Take care."

"Stay healthy!"

"Yes, sir."

I gave the innkeeper a slight bow of the head, then pushed up the glasses that had slipped down my nose.

Unlike Bemyurhen, which sat on the easternmost coastline of the east, it was time to head for Manahfelt — the city at the far western edge of the eastern front.

Beneath a galaxy woven from dozens of chandeliers linked one into the next.

Someone seated upon a throne in a vast hall opened their eyes. Horns grown like a crown, and skin of colorless white, proclaimed that this was no ordinary human.

He exhaled a blue breath and peeled his body away from the backrest he had been leaning against. The throne's back rose higher than his own height, carved with the mark of Venus so that it appeared like a halo.

The armrests his hands rested upon were no ordinary things either. They had been formed from the hands of statues thrusting out of the walls and fused into the chair. Hands of marble into which every crease and vein had been breathed — they looked as if corpses had been set there for decoration.

Aaaaaaah—

Behind the throne, thousands of angel statues carved into the wall worked only their mouths, filling the hall with a sacred hymn of exquisite beauty.

Appreciating the song that rang through the hall, he took the scepter he had been cradling in one hand. Thud. He lifted it slightly and brought it down; the lake that served as the floor bounced the scepter back. The faint ripples it left spread in concentric circles across the entire hall before fading away.

Deep within the lake — so dark its depth could not be gauged — a vast shadow stirred.

At the same time the surface of the lake began to bubble and boil, and the foam that rose sketched the shape of some living thing. Collapsing and reforming again and again under the fragility of the bubbles, the form pointed somewhere between wolf and lion.

He slowly crossed one leg over the other. A skirt slit open on one side folded several times and spilled down with a soft rustle, and across the bare white leg a language that was not of humans wandered.

Protection. Occupation. Master. Each time the ancient tongue stacked layer upon layer, the banners decorating the hall — and the magics engraved upon those banners — gave off a faint light.

Pride. The final magic bloomed as if in full flower.