A Photograph
"Oh my, so this is Luke."
"Such a pretty child… How pitiful…"
Surrounded by three female forest keepers — everyone but Yerna — Luke found himself having his cheeks stretched and his hair stroked, and he considered the whole situation thoroughly mortifying.
Only moments ago he had been helping Daiton clean Yerna's quarters. And now he was a plaything at the rest area.
The circumstances were these: Yerna, suspecting that kindhearted Luke might be helping Daiton with his "punishment," had asked her colleagues for a favor. They had lured Luke away from the cleaning with the promise of candy and books to read, and that was how he had ended up here.
"Wow, his cheeks are so soft!"
"The ears are completely silky…"
But Luke, whose reading was being thoroughly and enthusiastically interrupted, could not have been less pleased.
It was the sort of situation a man might be expected to enjoy rather than resent — yet it stirred nothing in him at all. He possessed a dignity grounded in a hundred years of life and memory. Being so openly treated like a child filled him with nothing but shame and self-loathing.
Outwardly he was a child, yes — but inside, was he not an old man aged to the bone? At the very least, he had never cultivated a hobby of being cooed over by young people (by his standards) and finding it pleasant.
"That is quite enough. Cease this at once."
He shook off the hands stretching his cheeks and peeled away the hand stroking his hair. The woman ahead of him was doing something with a "phone," and though he had no idea what, she did not seem to be harming him directly, so he left her alone.
"Why do you torment me so? Do you see me as nothing more than a mere diversion for your amusement?"
He spoke with as much gravity and weight as he could muster, but with the outward appearance of such a small child, no real force could possibly come of it.
"Kyahaha, this kid talks so funny."
"Listen to that speech — so grown-up."
"Aww, so cute."
Nothing came back but the reactions one gives a small child.
"So it ends up like this after all…"
Luke was hardly unaware of that. He let out a long sigh and pressed a hand to his forehead.
Well. No matter what anyone said, a person could not see another's inner self at a glance. He had expected reactions like these, born of being deceived by appearances — and yet he could not help finding it deeply regrettable.
For now, there is no means of altering my form…
Perhaps later, once he had built enough circles to use Polymorph — but that was a distant prospect. Polymorph was high-level magic requiring a minimum of seven circles upon the heart. Of course Luke took it as a matter of course that he would once again inscribe seven circles, even ten, upon his heart — but this body had struggled even to form a single one. Seven circles was still far too remote a story.
Polymorph being realistically impossible, Luke judged that the best course was simply to leave this uncomfortable seat, and rose.
"Huh? Luke, where are you going?"
"If you intend to make me your plaything, would it not be more productive to return and assist Daiton with the cleaning?"
"We don't really need to help a guy like Daiton. Our Luke is just too kind."
"Right, right. Luke, just play with your unnis~"
"……Hah."
Luke received another shock. Understanding it intellectually was one thing; actually hearing a fully grown woman coo at him in the sort of baby-talk reserved for children was an entirely different matter. It had been the same with Miriam before — whenever a woman's voice turned on him that way, it left him squirming with secondhand embarrassment and a crawling of the skin.
And this one, of all people: short hair cut straight at the neck, a solid build and shoulders like a woman warrior. Even if her looks were not particularly striking in any direction, that coquetry was more than Luke could bear. Without realizing it, his expression stiffened and his brows drew together, carving a crease between them.
"Pffft — Kirke, looks like you're really creeping this kid out."
The silver-haired woman whose hair fell to her shoulders — the one who had been pulling his cheeks — saw Luke's face and needled the other, calling her Kirke. Kirke put on a show of indignation.
"What? And you, Sorbi?"
"I'm cute, though."
Objectively speaking, the woman who had just declared herself cute did fall into the cute type. But that only seemed to provoke Kirke further; she looked ready to lunge at any moment.
Luke watched the spectacle, shook his head, and tried to move away — only for the woman who had been fiddling with her phone to call him back.
"Sorry, Luke. We're being completely thoughtless, aren't we? Please understand — you're just too cute."
"……I would prefer you refrain from that particular expression. It makes my skin crawl every time I hear it."
"Ah — I'm sorry. You don't like that. Forgive me."
The woman with brown hair braided and drawn to one side, wearing glasses, made a face as though she had committed a blunder and asked for forgiveness. Luke could hardly refuse.
"It is fine. Pay it no mind."
"Whew — thank you so much, Luke."
She let out a breath of relief, and thought to herself:
Whew. Yerna did tell me…
She had already received a detailed explanation from Yerna. After all, she was the one who had covered Yerna's duty shift that day — which meant she had been the first to hear about Luke, and in the greatest detail.
Even if he's lost his memories, there might still be trauma from the past…
Being clever and considerate by nature, she arrived at the thought quickly. For a child this adorable to react to the word "cute" with revulsion was hardly natural. Granted, if one heard it too often one might simply grow tired of it — but there was no need to screw up one's face as though one had just heard something truly unbearable, the way he had just now.
Perhaps "cute" functioned as a kind of trauma for Luke. She had met victims of sexual crimes a few times, and she had heard that some of them came to intensely loathe compliments on their appearance — words like "cute" or "sexy." It might be something like that.
An awkward atmosphere settled for a few seconds. Luke was just thinking it might be better to rise and head back to Yerna's quarters when her self-introduction blocked his path.
"Oh, right — I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Daphne. Just call me Daphne unni. Those two — left is Kirke, right is Sorbi."
"Ah, right! We never introduced ourselves at all."
"Oh, is that so? We got so distracted looking at Luke…"
Suddenly trapped in an atmosphere of introductions, Luke sat back down in the chair and set the book on his lap again.
"I see. Daphne, Kirke, and Sorbi. Belated though it may be — you may call me Luke Irushi."
Having introduced himself, Luke opened the book and continued.
"And I do not care for interruptions to my reading. Pray, cease all unnecessary physical contact."
Daphne smiled faintly, nodded, and caught hold of the other two women.
"Got it, Luke. Kirke, Sorbi — stay away from Luke. He doesn't like it. You two stay right here."
She hauled each of them back with one arm, and though she did not look particularly strong, a sweep of Mana Sight revealed that her body already bore the same physical enhancement Daiton had used before.
At last, some quiet.
Well, it hardly mattered. So long as he could read in peace.
The two of them, dragged off with absurd ease, wore expressions like livestock being led to the slaughterhouse and pleaded.
"You're so mean, Daphne. Not letting us stretch those soft cheeks!"
"Really, Daphne unni — you have no idea how soft the tips of those ears are!"
Once they were a suitable distance away, Daphne pointed at Luke as if to say, take a lesson.
"Quiet. You're not children — put up with it! Look at that. How is Luke more grown-up than either of you?"
"B-but…"
Luke had already opened the book again and was sinking into its information with formidable concentration. Crestfallen, Kirke and Sorbi looked at each other.
"Guess he really likes books."
"Or we're just annoying."
The "annoying" side was probably closer to the truth. Of course they were aware they had been bothering Luke. At the time they simply had not cared, and had given themselves over to impulse.
"Leave Luke alone now. You've played with him enough, haven't you?"
Seeing straight through their psychology, Daphne pressed them.
"Fine… But Daphne unni, you've been taking pictures on your phone this whole time, haven't you?"
Daphne flinched, then laughed and scratched her cheek. In truth, Luke had not the faintest idea that what Daphne had been doing with her phone was taking "photographs." He did not even know what a photograph was.
"……But he is cute, so…"
"This unni really does love that kind of thing."
"……"
Sorbi narrowed her eyes and poked Daphne in the side. Daphne ducked her reddening face — then, as if something had just occurred to her, spoke up.
"Ah, but because of you two, I don't have a single decent shot! Every single one is some weird expression."
Kirke peered at the phone screen as Daphne flipped through the pictures, then pointed at one of Luke mid-cheek-stretch with a blank look.
"But isn't this one cute too?"
"His face is full of dislike. That isn't cute."
"Daphne unni's definition of cute has always been a little different…"
"……"
Daphne had nothing to say.
"Then just take one now. Over there."
"He has to look this way for me to take it."
"So call him."
"Did you not just hear me say not to bother him?"
"We've already bothered him — so bother him one more time and then stop!"
"Huh? Hey, Sorbi! Wait—!"
Before anyone could stop her, Sorbi shot straight over to Luke.
"Luke, take just one photo with unni — then I absolutely won't bother you anymore!"
Having his reading interrupted yet again was unpleasant, but a new word in her speech piqued his interest, and he set the book down for a moment.
"What is that supposed to mean? A photograph? 'Take one'? How does one 'take' a photograph?"
Hearing the unfamiliar concept of a "photograph" and the verb "to take," Luke tilted his head in puzzlement. What was a photograph, that one took one of them? Judging by the verb "take," was it something one stabbed with an axe or a knife or a fork? Or some object one stamped down like a seal?
The way Luke looked while thinking that was already a perfect shot to Sorbi — but unfortunately she could not capture it. The moment she pulled out her phone, Luke's gaze locked onto the device.
Resigned, Sorbi smacked her lips and held up her index and middle fingers toward him.
"It's simple. Here — can you make your fingers like this?"
"Like this, you mean?"
Luke mimicked her and formed a V with his hand. Click — Sorbi snapped the picture, then grinned.
"Got it. Thanks! Want to see?"
"See? What do you mean to show me? Is there something special about that device?"
"Look at this — what do you think?"
What Sorbi showed him on the phone was a scene that left Luke stunned.
Impossible. So this is a photograph?
There, captured with perfect fidelity, was his own appearance from mere moments ago.
Magic of this sort had not been entirely absent in the past. But the casting time was considerable, and only a user of at least four circles could capture reality — so the labor cost was high. Moreover, the reality so captured would, if left alone, soon vanish like a mirage. In the end that magic served only to freeze a fleeting instant so a painter could more easily transfer it to canvas.
And yet this "photograph" — in such an instant, with such precision, in such a stable state.
Luke understood why they said one "took" it. Was it not as though one had stamped reality itself with a seal?
He cried out in a voice bright with excitement.
"How remarkable! How does one extract this from the phone? I wish to possess this photograph as well!"
Sorbi was the one startled by that reaction.
"Th-that much? Well, of course I can send it! Ah — Luke, do you have a phone?"
Luke shook his head.
"I do not. But Yerna should have one. Can it be transferred to hers?"
"Sure, I'll send it over there. Anyway — thanks, Luke!"
"Not at all. If anything, I am the one who should be thanking you."
So that artifact conceals such a function as well…
At first he had taken it for a mere communication tool, but the more he saw of it, the more astonishing a magical device it proved to be. Hidden functions poured out like the layers of an onion. It was only natural that Luke should feel a desire to own one himself.
But to beg Yerna to buy him something that was surely enormously expensive, without offering anything in return — that would be far too undignified. And occasionally playing with Yerna's was not enough to fully satisfy his curiosity. The impulse to take it apart with precision work and sate that curiosity was strong… but one could hardly dismantle someone else's property at will. For now he forced the curiosity down and set it aside.
Sorbi, watching Luke's reaction, thought something far simpler.
Wow, I must be really good at taking pictures!