The Magic Words for Proof
Even after Karem climbed onto the small platform, the roar of the crowd did not diminish in the slightest.
But of course every gaze swung as one toward the stage.
Was the rumor true after all?
Was the Red Witch’s Finger not a poisonous herb?
Had he truly been chosen by the gods so he would not die?
Was there any wine instead of beer?
Karem took a moment to steady his breath under those myriad gazes, each weighted with its own thoughts and feelings. Even in his previous life he had never stood before so many people, so of course he was nervous. But having come this far, he could not simply step back down.
Karem decided to think of the crowd in front of him as talking carrots.
Oh—and somehow, thinking of them that way actually seemed to ease his nerves a little.
With a far more relaxed expression, the boy opened his mouth.
“That’s right! I’m the fearless little chef who pickled and ate the Red Witch’s Finger!”
Formality be damned.
Pretending to deliver a real speech would only wind him tighter.
Karem decided to skip any awkward greetings.
When the very subject of the rumor confirmed it with his own mouth, the crowd’s noise swelled even louder. Disbelief, confusion, faith, suspicion—every emotion traded places, until one booming voice punched straight through the din.
“Lies! It’s all lies! That the Red Witch’s Finger is a deadly poison is common knowledge throughout northern Europa!”
An elderly man wrapped in a thick robe, white hair thick with the weight of years, shouted out.
“You’re no healer or priest—just a mere cook!”
“That’s exactly why I’ve come out here to prove it, elder.”
“Boy. Have you heard the rumors of starving people dying after eating Red Witch’s Fingers? What on earth happened to make a child your age want to kill himself?”
“Forget the rumors—has anyone here actually seen a person die from eating a real Red Witch’s Finger? Anyone?”
At Karem’s cry the people below the stage murmured and glanced around at one another.
Anyone seen it with their own eyes? I’ve never even seen a Red Witch’s Finger. I think I heard my mother’s younger brother’s second son died after eating one, though…
Indeed, those who had witnessed it firsthand would be rarer still. Or perhaps someone with an allergy had truly died—but Karem had never once heard of anyone being allergic to chili peppers.
Still, he could not let his guard down. People were creatures who lied.
Before anyone could invent a story just for the thrill of it, the moment Karem opened his mouth again an adventurer shouted.
“Powder from the Red Witch’s Finger makes even large monsters flinch and go berserk—so if a person eats it, of course it’d be toxic, right?”
An elf wrapped in a thick cloak that looked as though it had been cut from monster hide spoke up.
“What might be fatal to one isn’t to another. Take onions—dogs die from eating them all the time, don’t they?”
“Well… that’s true.”
Sled dogs, guard dogs, and hunting hounds were common in the city. Most people who kept dogs knew from hard experience that onions could kill them.
“The Red Witch’s Finger is the same case. Different direction, same kind of heat! Onion, garlic, mustard—even precious black pepper—they’re all different kinds of spiciness. They just have different uses! Exactly like how a sword and a spear are both weapons yet serve different purposes!”
While Karem shouted that, Catherine watched the boy with an unexpected look of admiration, stroking her chin.
“Mary.”
“What is it, Contractor?”
“Is that kid really a serf?”
“Are you asking me that?”
The look in her eyes said, You’re the one who brought Junior Karem here and put my job on the line.
Catherine brushed her retainer’s impertinent gaze aside in an instant. She had not really been looking for an answer, so Mary simply turned her head away.
“Still, he does seem nervous, that’s certain.”
“Yeah. First time I’ve seen someone talk that boldly with half their wits gone.”
Karem lifted a small basket with both hands.
“Talking won’t do any good! I’ll show you myself!”
Though no snow fell from the sky, Coldon was overcast and gloomy. Even so, the people could clearly see the heap of bright-red fruits that looked exactly like wrinkled fingers.
“No way—is he really going to eat that?”
“Some poor kid’s about to die.”
“He’s done for. Totally done. Should we head back soon? One more beer!”
People showed every sort of reaction. Among them, of course, were some especially heated ones.
“It’s nothing but a pathetic lie! How could a person eat a poisonous herb and survive?!”
“Even if he lives, he’ll end up crippled for sure!”
“Boy! If you die I won’t charge for the funeral—come to me!”
Regardless, Karem picked a red fruit from the basket. The tips of his thumb and forefinger burned with spicy heat the moment they touched it. He brought the end to his mouth.
Crunch! Crunch crunch crunch!
A bright, cheerful sound rang out across the noisy square—a sound even fresher and more refreshing than chewing a piece of raw turnip—echoing every time Karem moved his teeth.
The people watching stared up at the stage in pure disbelief. They had thought maybe, just maybe—but Karem had truly eaten a Red Witch’s Finger.
As every gaze on the stage fixed on the boy in shock, Alicia, seated in the place of honor, spoke worriedly.
“Jigmeser. Is Karem really going to be all right?”
“Of course he will, Lady Alicia. As I’ve said before, it’s painfully spicy, but it’s not something that kills you if you eat it.”
“Hmm. But doesn’t it still hurt?”
“Well… according to Karem, he’s already adapted, so it’s not that spicy anymore.”
Jigmeser answered with complete confidence.
Elizabeth spoke to Alfred, who sat in the highest seat of honor among the VIP seats, watching the stage with a mixture of excitement and tension.
“Dear. Is the Red Witch’s Finger truly not a poisonous herb?”
“At the very least I sampled every pickle made from it in my office.”
“Then it really wasn’t poisonous after all.”
“It would seem so.”
Alfred’s mind was elsewhere. The changes in Karem after eating the Red Witch’s Finger—long known only as a poisonous herb—appeared as swiftly as if he had downed a potion. Sweat poured from him thick enough to feel wrong even with the heating on. A body heat so intense you could feel it without even touching him, though he stood close. At a glance one might suspect a cold or some illness. But Karem was far too lively for that, and Jigmeser had said he experienced the same effects after tasting it himself.
“It might even serve as a substitute for cold-resistance potions. Not right away, but…”
“What was that you just said?”
“Ah, I was merely marveling at how well that boy Karem is eating it.”
“They say the pain is enough to kill, so I’m a little worried.”
Alfred silently denied the words he had let slip without thinking. If ordinary medicinal properties could produce meaningful effects, that would be one thing. But if it entered the realm of magic or alchemy, he would have to leave the work to Catherine for now. Even with the circumstances, he had already overworked her from autumn until the festival ended a few days ago; demanding any more overtime was a burden even for him.
For now, let’s be satisfied with changing perceptions, shall we?
As Alfred pondered that, Karem, absorbing the astonished gazes of the square, muttered casually to himself.
“As I thought, this tastes a little different from the chili peppers I know.”
Of course the flavor would differ by region and variety even for the same crop. And since this was a different world entirely, even a similar plant did not taste quite like any chili Karem remembered. If he forced a comparison, maybe Cheongyang chili, jalapeño, and bird’s-eye chili at about a six-to-three-to-one ratio?
The heat was climbing steadily, yet Karem picked up a third fruit as nonchalantly as if he were chewing raw vegetables and began to eat it.
“…Kyaaaaaaaaaaah!”
Starting with a woman in the crowd who fainted from shock and had to be supported by the person beside her—
“He’s completely insane! Eating that poisonous herb for real! He’s not right in the head!”
“And he’s eating it like it’s an apple, like it’s nothing! Could it really be a god’s blessing?!”
“Th-this can’t be real! The Red Witch’s Finger isn’t poisonous?!”
“His skin’s turning that red. How much must it hurt?!”
As if in backlash to the earlier silence, most of the spectators filling the square plunged into frenzy. But Karem only trembled at the corners of his eyes as he endured the spiciness that had completely claimed his mouth. Even if it had been regarded as a poisonous herb, was this really something to go wild over? Karem, whose memories of piling spice upon meat and spice, then wrapping spice dipped in more spice, remained vivid, simply could not understand it.
But since nonsense was still flying around, Karem swallowed the contents of his mouth cleanly to change the pace a little.
“There! I ate this and I didn’t die! It’s not a poisonous herb!”
When the crowd grew even more frenzied and his words became hard to make out, Karem shouted even louder.
“But me eating it alone isn’t proof enough! Is there anyone who’ll follow me and try this fruit?!”
And as if by magic the crowd’s noise gradually died down. People eyed one another and whispered.
What the hell did I just hear?
That said, they had more or less expected something like this. If long-held prejudices shattered in a single blow, even Karem himself would not have believed it. But there was one phrase that worked like a charm in moments like these.
While the crowd watched one another’s faces, Karem paused for a beat, then shouted the magical sentence.
“Is there truly no one?! Are the men of Iceland smaller-gutted than a ten-year-old brat from some backwater in Kingsland?!”
The sentence was long-winded. But the point was simple.
Chicken?
Like the adverb “bristling,” some of the men in the crowd flinched at Karem’s words. Exactly as Karem wanted.
A big man with a tired face in the front row bellowed at the top of his lungs.
“Hahaha! Kid. You know how to push a man’s buttons!”
“So?”
“I’m coming up right now!”
Indeed, the magical words and phrases that had been effective even in his previous life without any superhuman powers worked without fail in this fantasy world as well. The man who had been standing in the front row vaulted up onto the stage in a single bound.
“Here you go. Just think of it as more than ten times spicier than an onion, with a richer flavor.”
“Urgh. Tell me straight.”
“Yes?”
“It really won’t kill me, right?”
The man asked in a small voice that did not match his bulk. Karem answered by grabbing yet another fruit and chewing it. The man who had come up in a huff stared down at the fruit for a moment, then picked it up.
“Huh?!”
The instant it was in his hand, a searing sensation hit. It felt as though the insides of his eyes and nose had caught fire. But he could not back down after coming this far. The pride of an Iceland man was on the line. The man squeezed his eyes shut and tossed the whole fruit into his mouth. Then his eyes flew wide open.
“Grrrrrrrrrrrgh?!”
Tears sprang unbidden at the first taste of that heat, yet the man bit his lip hard enough to draw blood and held back the scream boiling up from deep in his gut. And the moment the pain subsided he shouted.
“Ha, ha! Th-this much pain is nothing! Getting smacked by a beaver while logging would hurt worse! No—I actually feel like the fatigue’s completely gone!!!”
It was nothing more than a man’s stubbornness, refusing to admit it hurt. But that man’s stubbornness stirred the courage of the other Iceland men whose pride had been pricked.
Karem silently handed Red Witch’s Fingers to the people climbing onto the stage. Fueled by curiosity and pride, the basket Alfred had given Karem was emptied in no time.
“Kyaaaaaaaaaaah!!!”
“Grrrngh! Even though it’s winter, I’m burning up—krrrm!”
“Ha! Haha! I-it’s not spicy at all—don’t you dare offer me another—”
“Hoo! Hooo! Really hoo! The fatigue’s gone! Feels great. Hooook!”
“Good heavens! He really isn’t dying?!”
“Someone’s fainted over here! Somebody help!”
The more the people on stage shouted, the more the spectators cheered with even greater astonishment. But Karem was not celebrating. People’s fixed ideas did not change so easily. Still, now that the dam had been broken, he thought he could hold a little hope.
Of course, that thought only went so far.
“Junior Karem. Hurry over here.”
“Huh?”
“What are you spacing out for?”
“Ah, yes!”
Seizing the moment when the crowd’s gazes and attention were scattered, the boy escaped with the mage and the house elf into the back alley connected to the rear of the stage.