Possession or Reincarnation?
My godfather had collapsed. Immediately after healing magic was applied, his condition would briefly improve, only to deteriorate again after three days in a relentless cycle.
A textbook case of malaria.
I suppose I should count myself lucky. In my hands, I held the very medicine needed to treat malaria. Without delay, I administered quinine to my godfather.
"Julian... What is... that medicine...?"
"It is a treatment for the southern plague. Its efficacy has already been proven on other soldiers, so please rest easy."
"All this time... you were making something like this...?"
My godfather closed his eyes as his voice trailed off. He hadn't passed away; he was simply too exhausted to speak and had drifted off to sleep. I immediately began the quinine regimen for him.
After administering the medicine, I stayed up all night in a corner of the sickroom. While the healer cast periodic recovery spells and the servants took turns wiping the sweat from his brow, I spent the hours counting my godfather's respiration rate, measuring his pulse, and charting his temperature trends.
Three days passed. Normally, his fever would have spiked again by now. But this time, it remained low. The same held true for the next three days, and the three days after that. The symptoms of malaria had vanished entirely.
It worked.
On the morning of the ninth day, my godfather sat up on his own and asked for water. The Nihilite Family Butler hurriedly brought a cup, and the healer rushed to his side. From the hallway, I could hear someone bursting into tears of relief. Amidst the commotion, I quietly took a step back.
My godfather recovered completely and finally left his sickbed. As I turned to leave, his voice called out to my retreating back.
"Julian. Thank you. Is there any reward you wish to receive?"
"I know you are still recovering, but may I ask for one favor?"
"Speak."
"I would like to use your name to supply this medicine to the merchant guild."
"...Is that truly all?"
"That is more than enough."
Thanks to his permission, I was able to cleanly resolve the distribution issues of quinine.
As expected of a misunderstanding-trope world. Everything falls into place so easily.
After his miraculous recovery, my godfather kept his word and signed a contract with the merchant guild under his name. The guild immediately began distributing quinine, and within a few short months, the medicine had spread across the entire southern region.
The military command in charge of the southern front also began to take notice of quinine. Previously, the army had to battle both malaria and magic beasts simultaneously. But with the advent of quinine, they could now focus their entire attention on combating the magic beasts.
Consequently, word arrived from the merchant guild that the military had decided to sign a massive procurement contract for quinine.
And a few days after that...
Today is the day the results come out.
The day of the final decision had arrived. Early in the morning, as soon as I woke up, I stood in front of the mirror to tidy myself.
Looking back at me was a gloomy boy with a face that looked as though he had already given up on life.
He had peculiar black hair that shimmered with a bluish luster like a crow's feathers. Beneath it lay cold, gray-blue eyes, half-lidded with slightly drooping outer corners.
As I smoothed down the boy's disheveled hair in the mirror, I tried to guess what kind of character he had been in the original novel.
Judging by his looks, I probably would have been a quiet, gentlemanly character in the original story.
Perhaps a gentle, dignified, genius-type character with a tragic past. Or maybe not. Regardless, I decided to steer Julian's personality in that direction—calm, soft-spoken, and always gentle, like a kind older brother from church.
...Good. This should do.
Having practiced this since I was four years old, it was practically second nature by now. Crafting an expression that was somewhat melancholic yet still retained a hint of warmth, I turned away from the mirror.
I was just changing my clothes after finishing my morning mirror routine when—
Knock, knock. A rap came from the door.
"Young master, did you sleep well?"
It was the voice of the head butler.
"Yes, I am awake."
"The master is waiting for you in his study. He asked if you could drop by briefly before breakfast."
The study first thing in the morning. I had a good feeling about what this was about. It had been several months since I started selling quinine with my godfather's help, and it was about time for the results to bear fruit.
"Understood. I will be right there."
My godfather treated me like his own son. Of course, he had sent me to an annex where the head butler was the sole servant and left me largely to my own devices, but considering I was just the son of his deceased friend, he bought me any books I asked for and kept my allowance quite generous.
A young master living in a metropolitan estate, receiving a proper education, with a steady stream of allowance? At this point, he might as well be treating me like his real son. Or maybe not. Anyway, moving on.
My godfather had summoned me to his study in the main building. Opening the door and stepping inside, I saw him sitting at his desk, with the head butler standing faithfully by his side. He still looked gaunt, likely from the lingering aftereffects of malaria. Or perhaps it had something to do with what I overheard my godmother muttering outside his door the other day—something about how having an only child made her anxious.
"Julian. It is about the medicine you created."
"Yes, do you mean quinine?"
"Indeed. Regarding your request to supply quinine to the military at a discounted price... I have something to discuss with you."
"Yes. What is the matter?"
"The order volume from the military is far larger than anticipated."
My godfather picked up a document from his desk. The digits written on it... one, two, three, four... Oh my. How many figures is that? I knew we would make a lot, but this is beyond my wildest imagination. With this much, couldn't I just live off the interest for the rest of my life?
Isn't it a good thing that there are so many orders?
Why was this a problem? Was the military trying to seize the patent or something? As I worried, my godfather continued.
"If we accept the order as it is, you will suffer a significant loss on the share you were originally entitled to. Why don't you reconsider?"
Ah. So it was about my dividend share.
"Must you really reduce your own share?"
"..."
In truth, when I first introduced this medicine, I had made a specific agreement with the merchant guild. In exchange for giving up a portion of my dividends, the medicine would be sold to soldiers at half price.
"Of course, in places like the Magic Realm, mosquitoes claim as many soldiers' lives as the magic beasts do. I nearly lost my own life to them as well. But I wonder if you must go to such lengths."
"Godfather. If the medicine is too expensive, the soldiers won't be able to afford it. Not every soldier is a noble."
"..."
"Since the merchant guild claimed they couldn't lower the price any further, it was only right that I give up my share."
No matter the world or the country, military pay is always lousy. I heard the cost of quinine was quite a burden for them. That was why I made this contract—to build a favorable image among the soldiers.
Money can be earned later. With quinine, I need to build my reputation first.
My goal wasn't to become some vulgar, wealthy parvenu. Since I had been reincarnated as the protagonist, my goal was to become the greatest doctor in the empire, one whose name would go down in history.
And soldiers never forget someone who treats them well.
The fact that I kept buying the exact same brand of razor even after discharging from the South Korean military was proof of that. Though, honestly, that might have just been out of habit.
Besides, this is the proper path for a protagonist.
Above all, in a misunderstanding-trope story, doing things that seem unprofitable is precisely how you end up making the most money. This choice would ultimately yield far greater returns.
"It is fine. Please proceed as planned."
"Julian. You are still young, so it may not feel real to you, but a two percent share is by no means a small sum. You might regret this later."
"It is quite alright. Money can always be earned later, but a human life cannot."
"..."
My godfather fell silent. Beside him, the head butler's hand, which had been holding a notepad, froze.
I think that landed pretty well.
However, the silence stretched on longer than expected. Was the emotional impact that profound? To give them ample time to digest their feelings, I waited patiently. Eventually, my godfather took off his glasses, pinched the bridge of his nose, and let out a long sigh.
"...Very well. We shall proceed as you wish."
"Thank you."
"You may leave now. Study hard today as well."
"Then, please excuse me."
I bowed politely to my godfather and walked toward the door.
"Ah, Julian."
Just as my hand touched the doorknob, my godfather called out to me.
"Today is your birthday, isn't it? Happy tenth birthday. If there is anything you want, just let me know."
Turning back, I saw a faint smile on his face. It was a phrase I felt like I had heard somewhere before. As if... I had heard it in a dream.
"...Thank you."
I didn't try to grasp the fleeting sensation of a memory trying to surface. Instead, I bowed once more and stepped out of the room. As I walked down the hallway, I suddenly wondered where I had heard those words.
Come to think of it... I feel like it had something to do with the nightmare I had this morning...
But like a thick fog rolling in, the details of the dream refused to become clear. Shaking my head, I quickened my pace. I had too much to do after creating quinine. I was not a man with enough leisure to dwell on a dream I couldn't even remember.