Palm Authentication System
'Oh no...'
I was vividly experiencing what it meant for one's blood to run cold, even though I hadn't wanted to. My face was probably quite pale. There was no mirror to check, but...
The moment the pickpocket's hand brushed Beni's pocket and the chain rattled, my body moved on instinct before my brain could catch up. This wasn't a combat situation, and Beni had no reason to use her Red Jade. I knew rationally that I'd overreacted, but I couldn't help the surge of heat to my head in that instant.
Whether someone definitively 'possesses' Red Jade can be confirmed by injecting a tiny bit of mana. It's a mandatory safety procedure before casting spells that require it. But in the field, various 'annoying' steps are often skipped. Of course, since lives are on the line and the process isn't complicated or time-consuming, most people follow the rule diligently... except in the heat of battle, where mistakes happen. Skipping the check just once could mean losing your Six-Aperture Pod or exhausting all your Red Jade at the worst possible moment—and that probability isn't zero. And if that happens... No, better not dwell on it.
In short: after witnessing Marine Corps jerky in real life once, you become hyper-vigilant about Red Jade management for yourself and those around you.
...Enough excuses. I approached the girl who'd slammed into the storefront nearby and checked her over. She looked about middle-school age to me, but considering how fast humans develop here, she was probably around ten. In other words, no matter the reason, I'd just full-force whacked a kid who might barely be double digits.
Sweat beading on my forehead, I glanced nervously at my companions.
"Huh? Uh, um...? What?"
"Pickpocket!"
"No, but, uh..."
Beni stood frozen, still processing. Luckily, Riley was explaining the situation, so I avoided coming off as the psycho who full-swings at a kid for a mere bump.
"She wrapped herself in aura, so it was just loud—no real injury."
"Even so, was that necessary...?"
A full-power strike infused with aura against a pickpocket? Not exactly forgivable, but...
"And she touched the Red Jade."
"Pardon? But you put up a barrier for her?"
"She must've thought it wasn't intentional!"
...Yeah, because it's Red Jade. Reacting harshly the moment you sense something is a bit excessive—like me—but the common sentiment is 'if they meant to take it, they deserve to die.' Even gentle Beni reacted with puzzled confusion: 'Then why'd she pull the punch?' Enough said. Exaggerating a bit, it was like fingering the pin on someone else's belt grenade.
But no matter how justified, the fact that I'd aimed a cane-smack straight at a kid's face gnawed at me. In this world, a ten-year-old is expected to know better, and handle their own minor scrapes. Wallet theft caught red-handed? A beating's no big deal—that's public consciousness here. Sure, you'd get some dirty looks as a 'violent brute,' but that's the extent of it. Like watching an old-school 'wife-beating husband' from way back...
But for someone from 2020s Korea, shedding those values entirely was impossible. If it were that easy, I'd have ditched the forbidden same-sex attractions under imperial and church law and chased guys instead.
I cautiously closed the distance and examined the girl. No visible external injuries, but she was unconscious. Whether the shock hadn't fully dissipated or it was just mental trauma causing her to faint, I couldn't tell. If it was the former, it could be serious, so I gently lifted her.
"Mm. I'll drop her at the church for a bit. Wait here."
"Got it! Hurry back!"
I turned and hurried off. For some reason, Riley seemed more cooperative than usual. Probably just my imagination. She's scatterbrained but always listens well.
×
After entrusting the kid to the church— I'd planned to pay treatment out of pocket since it felt iffy for official expenses, but they waived it due to my prior donations—we gazed up at the distant tree.
"That's, uh."
"Feel free to show disappointment. As I said, it's just an ordinary tree."
Yeah. I'd told them before: the Frostwood is just a big tree. 'Pretty big for a tree,' sure. Nothing like those internet-famous 'Gigantic Real-World World Tree.jpg' wonders that wow the globe. And confined in a massive greenhouse... no, freezer to preserve cold and block non-authorized access, it looked even more pathetic.
The freezer was a cylinder topped with a dome lid. At least the dome was mostly transparent, letting us see the tree. Not for tourism, but for photosynthesis.
"I like it!"
"Really?"
"The tree might've just been here by chance, but this huge building? The empire built it with effort! They must've had reasons for the shape."
Like a pottery expert more fascinated by the bonsai pot than the tree. She's no architecture grad, but as a tourist mindset? Pretty wise and model.
Made me recall that intelligence and wisdom are separate.
"Probably modeled after a guy's dick!"
...Or not? Just a broken clock being right twice a day?
Her idiotic follow-up furrowed my brow in contemplation. Damn, now it kinda looked that way. The round end's different material made it worse.
"...Glad the building interests you. Want to get closer?"
No entry without permission, even if tree-curious. But the Frostwood Citadel—er, Frostwood Citadel's outer walls? Fine to gawk.
I said so and kept walking. The two students trailed behind.
"Long live His Imperial Majesty!"
"Ah, long live His Majesty. Good work."
Approaching the greenhouse, guards at the entrance spotted my uniform, fist to chest in salute.
"Just personal tourism, not official military. No need to mind."
I returned the salute and added that.
"I-Is that... so?"
But the private with her rank insignia eyed me suspiciously, like 'Who the hell wears uniform off-duty?'
It didn't last.
"Eek?!"
"Where you glaring? ...My apologies. Enjoy your tour."
Soon, another soldier—a sergeant by insignia—palm-slapped her junior's ass. The sharp crack made me swallow involuntarily.
Damn. That should've been me.
"...Understood. Carry on."
Suppressing envy, I led the students away.
"Hey, you idiot bitch. Haven't you heard the rumors about the frontliner? Even if you're new and never saw her, you heard the talk, right?"
"B-But... ngh."
"Talking back to a senior? She wears uniform even on leave. And even if it wasn't the frontliner, if someone says 'not official,' you play along."
Behind us, the sergeant scolded her junior. Sounded like she'd served here during the Frostwood terrorist attack by those crazies. Probably top seniority, nearing discharge.
I glanced back briefly, then faced forward. The ancient walls, over a century old, bore geometric patterns.
"Whoa..."
"R-Riley! Don't touch!"
Meanwhile, Riley reached admiringly for a pattern but got stopped by Beni. She glanced at me.
"Can't?"
"It holds history—best not wear it down. And even without that, touching a guarded military wall isn't wise."
"Hmmm..."
Riley awkwardly retracted her half-extended arm. Honestly, I'd worried her warrior blood might spark 'Wanna rumble with imperial soldiers!' trouble. Relief.
On Earth, touching a military fence in a city center? Unlikely huge issue. Strict sites aren't central, and guns'd aim before approach. But here, where bare fists punch steel plates? Letting 'just a touch' slide risks a veteran wall-smasher. Better safe.
What tree was it? Anyway, don't even fix your shoelace under one.
"Ice forms inside here, right?"
"Yes."
I nodded.
"Beyond ice production, any other uses?"
"None."
"...Pardon?"
Beni's eyes widened at my reply.
"So the Frostwood is solely for making ice?"
"Minus harvested, shipped leaves—the tree itself? Yes."
"Why such an amazing tree for...?"
Why? Her premise was off.
"Because it's not amazing."
"Mm! Lots of my retainers could do that too!"
Riley chimed in agreement. Exactly. Strip the 'inexplicable miracle' veneer: just replicable by magic. Unless extreme mana management like the military, mages suffice. Then it's efficiency and location.
"Yugten's geography sucks all around. Uneven terrain, poor connections, barren soil. Climate's trash even politely."
Even for 24/7 cooling, build elsewhere and hire mages—probably better. Or supply just leaves.
Beni murmured puzzled.
"But... direct train from Karimille? City's huge... How'd such land develop?"
"The Frostwood."
Strip the veneer: mildly curious, worthless tree. But sometimes, the 'veneer' is everything. Like old theories: farming enabled settlements via food surplus. Now: religion drove groups, then farming followed. Yugten's that.
"People didn't flock to good land. They gathered because it was deemed divinely blessed, then built the city."
Once momentum starts, it self-perpetuates. Then endure inconveniences. Path dependence? Scale matters; commerce grew despite odds. Ice trade to neighbors profits too. Transport costs more than local mages sometimes, but closer spots favor Yugten ice.
"Perfect timing."
Mid-explanation, I pointed near our old entrance.
Empty carts waited inspection to enter the icehouse... no, Frostwood facility. Authorized haulers with permits.
"Those are the kingdom-permitted ice merchants..."
"Huh?"
"...Beni? What's wrong?"
Beni tilted her head oddly at my pointing.
"No, it's... That guy in the back rode our train. Saw her deboard third-class for sure..."
"...Tch. I'll handle it. No way a newbie laborer gets permits half a day in."
Something's off. I clicked my tongue, lightly lifting my cane.
...Dunno why, but Beni and Riley flinched. No clue. Not gonna whack anyone. I walk with this; it moves when I do. Though if things go south, maybe smack...
"Uh... don't take my words so seriously..."
"No need. I hear your memory's reliable."
Beni glanced at Riley—probably her source.
"Not from Riley. The dean mentioned it."
Her narrow circle aside... I shook my head.
"The dean? Why me...?"
"She's very interested in you."
She'd gushed during club formation: how a two-member club snagged top martial and magic students.
As Beni blanked, I stepped forward.
"Anyway, I'll stop her before entry."
Luckily, no aura needed; explaining got the guards to nab her quick.
"You damned emperor's slaves—arghhh?!"
The woman Beni recognized thrashed but got subdued fast. Only collateral: one private.
She glared at the sergeant ('Senior, I said she's official...') till a red handprint bloomed on her ass.