Chapter 243
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 243
Chapter Title: I Have a Hunch
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“That’s all well and good for the basics, but I’m looking for something a bit more special.”
“In that case, how about some hallucinogens that even circulate in the Holy Alliance? We’ve got the highest-grade stuff used by shrine maidens in rituals.”
“Nothing even more special?”
“Hmm… How about drug perfume? It’s a patented product that blends several substances to make the user irresistibly alluring.”
“Afraid that’s not the type I’m after.”
“Then what kind of drug are you looking for?”
Aphrodisiacs to make the night fantastically enchanting.
Awakening agents to endure ten days and nights without a hitch.
Whatever drug it is, just name it—they’ve got it.
Watching a girl who looked fresh out of college rattle off lines that could’ve come from a drug lord in another country, Yuna Kyung muttered with a dumbfounded look on her face.
[…Do they sell drugs in department stores around here?]
‘Why are you so surprised? You knew drugs were legal in Brazil, didn’t you?’
[Sure, I knew Brazil was famous for that, but I didn’t think it was this extreme…]
Whether Yuna Kyung lost her composure at the sight—which was fantastically bizarre even compared to the magical city once called Mad London in some sense—Li Chingwei smiled faintly and answered the waitress’s question.
“I’m looking for Ambrosia.”
“…Pardon?”
“That drug called Ambrosia that’s been all the rage lately. The rumors got me curious.”
The girl’s face, which had been wearing a textbook waitress smile just moments ago, hardened in an instant.
“Sir, we don’t deal in illegal drugs here at Coffee & Drugs.”
She spoke firmly, as if the mere inquiry was offensive.
Li Chingwei tilted her head at her.
“That’s strange. Someone I know told me for sure that Ambrosia was available here.”
“Whoever you know must be mistaken.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes!”
“In that case, I suppose I can pass that message along to the person waiting outside?”
“…Pardon?”
The girl glanced puzzledly out at the shop, then paled blue when she saw Barbara standing there with arms crossed, her green hair unmistakable.
“If you really don’t trade Ambrosia here, then even someone dispatched from Quetzalcoatl headquarters would find nothing amiss upon inspection.”
“C-Customer?”
“Of course, if any were found here, that’d be a huge problem… but that won’t happen, right?”
Li Chingwei calmly asked the waitress girl, whose face had gone from pale to ashen to utterly bloodless.
“Let me ask once more. Can you really not get Ambrosia here?”
For a moment, the girl alternated anxious, fidgety glances between Li Chingwei and Barbara outside.
She swallowed dryly.
Then opened her mouth in a trembling voice.
“W-We don’t sell it as a product, but… there was one bottle that got mixed in by mistake with a sample shipment a while back, and that’s…”
It was purely accidental, just a sample received due to someone’s error.
Li Chingwei nodded as if fully understanding the girl’s desperate excuse.
And asked calmly.
“Is that misplaced drug still around by any chance?”
“Yes!”
A short while later.
Li Chingwei took the small vial the girl hurriedly fetched and tilted her head at the golden liquid inside.
She even uncapped it, sniffed, and made an odd expression.
‘This color, this scent—could it be?’
Though not as expert as the Green Dragon Clan, as a Black Dragon Clan member, Li Chingwei had basic knowledge of poisons and drugs.
And as far as she knew, only one drug matched this color and aroma.
“…No wonder Maia herself is investigating this.”
Fiddling briefly with the chisel and mallet in his hand, his face subtly displeased.
Rimon let out a small sigh.
He placed the chisel against the stone block in front of him and brought the mallet down mercilessly.
Clang!
A swing aimed to shatter the stone outright.
Yet with each brutal strike, the stone split in astonishingly precise, intricate ways.
As if it had always been that shape.
Or as if enchanted by magic.
After just over twenty minutes of shedding useless bulk, no trace of raw stone remained.
In its place stood only the statue of a gladiator felling a lion.
Hermann’s verdict on the sculpture was clear.
“I’ve never seen talent this insane.”
“…Hey, Mr. Sculptor. Isn’t it a bit much to hit me with curses right after I did exactly what you asked?”
“Ask any sculptor passing by. If you made this statue in under an hour, they’d say the same.”
Hermann shook his head.
He’d known from seeing Rimon’s garden that the man had remarkable talent.
But teaching him sculpture properly had exceeded expectations—broken through the stratosphere, even.
This statue alone proved it.
From the wounded lion’s mane and fangs to the gladiator’s armor-revealed muscle flex and minor scars.
Every detail was so exquisitely rendered that even peak-condition Hermann would need weeks of full dedication.
Most sculptors couldn’t even imitate it.
And he’d done it in under an hour, using only chisel and mallet.
Hermann almost suspected Rimon was a spirit in human guise.
What left him truly baffled wasn’t the speed, but the array of techniques embedded in the precision.
“This lion’s light-and-shadow contrast feels like late Baroque style…”
“I referenced the Dying Lion of Lucerne a bit.”
“But this gladiator captures anatomical details too well for Baroque—it’s got ancient Greek vibes.”
“Saw something similar in the Free Cities Alliance once.”
“And the composition, with those hyper-vivid expressions, screams realism.”
“I was just recreating a gladiator match I’d seen before.”
“…Last I checked, the Colosseum’s final games were over 900 years ago. You saw them in person?”
“Don’t have to see it live to recreate it. Plenty of paintings out there.”
Silent for a beat at the seamless reply.
Hermann asked hesitantly.
“Rimon, you said you’d never learned sculpture.”
“Yeah, and?”
“…Then how do you know Baroque or ancient Greek techniques?”
“Just kinda happened?”
“…”
“What? Copying sculptures or paintings exactly is easy enough, right?”
“Not wrong, but…”
Hermann wore an indescribable expression.
Imitating and replicating past masterpieces is how artists master techniques.
Plenty do it flawlessly.
But there are limits.
For a total beginner to flawlessly recreate seen works was mind-blowing enough.
Finding the stone’s grain.
Carving at super speed.
Even fusing multiple historical techniques into one piece.
Hermann was floored.
‘…Should I be relieved it took a whole 20 minutes to feel human?’
Even scarier: this was on the slower side.
With other tools—especially blades—Rimon’s speed defied imagination.
‘Wonder if there’s anything I can even teach this guy.’
Unaware of Hermann’s growing despair—like scaling a blade-riddled cliff mere minutes into the first lesson—
Rimon spoke with clear dissatisfaction.
“Mr. Sculptor, no matter how I look at it, this feels like you’re dumping your work on me.”
Hermann snapped from his reverie, offering a wry smile, but Rimon pressed curtly.
Their deal: help unseal the sculpture knife once Hermann’s illness healed.
But this meant curing him and passing the trial solo.
Hermann’s response was simple.
“I lack confidence to pass that trial before fully cured. You could do it right now.”
If only lacking qualification barred challenge, then gain it by becoming a sculptor now.
Rimon furrowed his brow at the earnest Hermann.
“What’s with you?”
“Pardon?”
“What’s the issue that you’re making excuses like that? And you’re supposed to be the world’s top sculptor.”
His face said he was looking at a grandson begging homework help.
Meeting those eyes with complex ones, Hermann finally spoke heavily.
“Half because your talent’s too precious to waste.”
“And the other half?”
“…My own greed.”
Hermann sighed.
He’d never mentored an apprentice.
Too busy honing his craft for such time-wasters.
Dedicating his life to art made him the world’s pinnacle sculptor.
But illness-forced retirement meant his lifetime skills buried with him—regrettable.
“So, you wanted someone to inherit your techniques, and I showed up perfectly timed?”
“Exactly.”
A nod.
Then, with a mix of regret and bitterness:
“If you truly don’t want to learn my sculpture, we can stop. As you said, I’ll handle the knife’s trial once cured.”
Gazing at Hermann steadily for a moment.
Rimon scratched his cheek.
“Eh, fine. I’ll learn it for now.”
“Really okay with that?”
“Not doubting your skills, but insurance never hurts.”
Purely for passing the knife trial.
No intent to become a sculptor, so any techniques taught would go to waste—keep that in mind.
Hermann bowed his head after a brief silence at the nonchalant words.
“…Thank you.”
“Skip the thanks. Tell me how to make that stubborn knife recognize me as a sculptor.”
After pondering Rimon’s question, Hermann replied.
“Actually, I have a hunch why it hasn’t acknowledged you as a sculptor yet.”