Troublesome Customer (1)
Ninety-nine. That's how many times I've gripped a sword to save the world—or doom it. I've been the hero, the saint, and in the end, the great tyrant who drowned the continent in blood. The results were always the same. Betrayal, followed by inevitable destruction.
So the moment my 100th loop began, I ditched the old continent. I crossed the sea to the new world where no one knew me: Arcadia. And within it, I slipped into the rundown little Eilen Kingdom at the continent's southern tip. This place was the rearmost nation, farthest from any signs of the coming apocalypse. Utterly ignored in the great powers' squabbles for territory, it was a peaceful backwater village. No retirement spot could be more perfect for my quiet life.
"Hoo."
I wiped the sweat from my forehead and rolled up the rickety shutter. With a spine-chilling screech of rusted metal—kiiik-grrrk—the little store at the academy's outermost edge came into view, squatting in an abandoned corner lot. Grand reopening. The sign had been up for a week now. Not a single fly buzzed in the desolate spot.
"Perfect."
Even for a fringe shop at this podunk kingdom's academy, the key money had been insanely expensive. But compared to the slush funds I'd amassed ruling the Empire across my 99 loops, it was pocket lint. From now on, I'd live smelling flour instead of blood. Let the world end or not—these locals could fry and squabble among themselves.
I was savoring that leisurely retirement when it happened.
"...Here she comes again."
A quick glance out the window revealed a small figure huddled on the battered bench in front of the store. A girl with ashen hair. Her uniform was caked in dirt everywhere—clearly, she'd taken another beating from the noble brats today. This spot, the academy's sole blind spot, was a refuge where the bullied fled to swallow their sobs. Over the past week since I opened, she'd shown up without fail every single day, sniffling on that bench before slinking away.
"Might as well toss her some bread."
I uncrossed my arms and headed to the kitchen, kneading dough. Not out of pity. On the old continent, weaklings like her wouldn't last a day. It just irked me, having that sniffling as the BGM to my peaceful retirement every damn day. Fresh-baked bread was the best fix for a gloomy face.
I flattened the dough and slapped on some cheap sausage. But plain flour wouldn't cut it for that scrawny body rolling in dirt daily—it needed more kick. If I was cheering her up, might as well do it right.
"Still got this left."
I pulled a withered root from my pocket. Spirit Grass, plucked from a dragon's nest before crossing the sea from the old continent. I crushed it roughly in my palm and sprinkled it over the dough like parsley at a pizza joint.
Whoosh!
The moment the Spirit Grass hit the flame, an insanely savory aroma flooded the store and wafted outside.
Ding-a-ling.
Soon, the crude bell on the door jingled.
"..."
I scowled toward the entrance. There stood Edelin, eyes red-rimmed, hesitating.
The fresh Spirit Grass bread's smell must've hit her hard—her throat bobbed visibly.
"Um..."
Edelin opened her mouth cautiously.
"What."
I grunted curtly. No intention of doing business—the till was empty anyway. I figured I'd chuck her a loaf like feeding a stray and shoo her off.
"Gonna trash it anyway. Take it."
I crammed the bread into a plastic bag and tossed it on the counter.
"Gasp, really? Th-thank you, mister!"
"Wait, what?"
I couldn't believe my ears. Mister? She called me mister?
Sure, after a hundred loops, my mental age was thousands of years old. But this body was late twenties, prime hot-blooded youth. Back on the old continent, they still called me a young buck!
"What'd you just call me?"
"Huh? Oh, m-mister..."
Edelin flinched and backed away, spooked. I drew a deep breath, suppressing the tyrant's killing intent bubbling up. The store's air turned icy, like subzero temps. Edelin shivered, clueless why.
Calm down. Snapping here would make me a petty old fart for real. Freebie revoked.
"One thousand won."
"Huh? B-but you said it was trash...!"
"Changed my mind. One thousand. Don't want it? Leave it."
I glared, and she pouted unfairly but rummaged in her pockets. The Spirit Grass's overwhelming scent had won. She placed a crumpled bill on the counter gingerly.
"Th-thank you..."
Edelin bowed and scurried to her usual bench out front. I watched her pathetic back through the window, arms crossed.
Plopping down, Edelin's eyes welled with fresh tears of grievance.
Zero again on the mana sensitivity test today.
Top of the class in theory, always. But unable to handle even a speck of mana, she was treated like a half-baked genius at twenty. Just now, noble kids had magic-bullied her till she barely escaped.
And he gouged me a thousand won for trash bread. Worst mister ever.
For a week, she'd secretly wiped tears on this bench. No comfort, and he even charged for scraps?
She pulled the warm loaf from the bag. Lumpy dough topped with mystery bluish powder and cheap sausage—ugly as sin.
Crumple.
To soothe her gloom, she took a big bite. Chewy flour, salty sausage, bitter herbal tang on top.
"Huh...?"
It was good. Not just good—an explosive, otherworldly flavor she'd never tasted.
But then.
"Urk...!"
Suddenly, her solar plexus burned like she'd swallowed coals. For twenty years, a rock-hard blockage in her mana circuit. Tame new-continent mana couldn't breach it in a lifetime. But the Spirit Grass's power was pure wild bomb.
Edelin, who'd never felt even a wisp of mana, just thought the spoiled trash bread had wrecked her gut.
"Ugh... M-mister!"
She bolted back to the window, yelling accusatorily.
"Mister! It is trash! My stomach's bubbling like crazy...!"
I wiped the counter with a bored look.
"You wolfed it down too fast. Indigestion. No refunds."
"No, it's not that! Something huge is about to burst inside...!"
Clutching her belly, Edelin froze at a weird premonition. The energy boiling from her dantian.
Could this be?
Unconsciously, she deployed the mana manifestation formula she'd practiced in the air thousands of times. Just to spark a tiny flame.
Crackle!
A blue flame sparked at her fingertips.
"Wha...?"
Edelin's eyes bulged like watermelons. Crude, impossibly pure mana—unexplainable by new-continent magic theory—surged through her 20-year-blocked circuits like mad.
1st Circle, 2nd Circle, straight to 3rd Circle. No basic formula. The [3-Circle Complex Formula: Spears of the Earth] that even academy profs took a minute to chant—simulated in her head her whole life—completed in one second on theory-topper instinct.
But.
"W-wait! What's happening?! How do I stop it?!"
The genius who'd only theorized, never discharged mana, met her tragic end. The uncontrolled spell rocketed from her hand, slamming the empty lot in front of the store.
BOOM—!!!
A massive roar, and the ground erupted. Destructive shockwave and dirt tsunami roared toward my store.
This shack would've been obliterated.
"Fuck. Just cleaned the windows."
I scowled and flicked a finger.
Shiiiine!
A faint golden hemispherical Absolute Barrier enveloped the entire store perfectly. The 99th-loop tyrant's unconscious reflex—unshakable even if half the continent blew.
Tat-tat-tat!
Storm and debris shattered harmlessly against it. Outside looked like a disaster flick; inside, even the mug water stayed still, serene.
When the dust settled, the yard I'd just swept sported a man-sized crater, utterly wrecked.
"Cough, cough! I-I'm insane! I cast magic...!"
Dirt-caked Edelin stared at her hands, shrieking in awe and joy.
But the moment passed.
Woooong—! Wooong!
Blaring alarms exploded from the main academy building. A 3rd-Circle destructive blast in a no-magic zone. Knights and instructors buzzed from afar, charging this way.
"Haa."
I sighed deeply. A week into storekeeping, my first customer botched my peaceful business hard.
"Just came to another hood to bake bread quietly..."
Pitied her, tossed bread—she calls me mister. Barges back demanding refund 'cause her gut hurts from "trash." Not enough? Tries to nuke my whole shop with magic?
I clicked my tongue softly, glaring down at the dirt-smeared kid giggling creepily. A chill I'd suppressed flickered in my eyes unbidden.
This girl's totally nuts.