Crossbow (2)
"I refuse."
Cold. His voice carried an unyielding resolve.
But I couldn't back down—not if I wanted my comfortable life and the research environment I needed.
"May I ask why?"
"Shouldn't you start by explaining why I ought to go to Bladewyn at all?"
"Ah—I got ahead of myself. I'm sorry. From what my aunt told me, I heard you'd gone into seclusion after something terrible happened."
"You heard correctly. Then you already know I won't go. Leave."
As he rose sharply and turned a freezing glare on me, I threw out one last gamble.
"Do you want to live as a loser forever?"
"······."
His steps halted.
Even from behind, I could almost see the irritation twisting his face.
"I heard you were wronged, that your body was ruined, and that you fled here like a man on the run."
"…What the hell do you know to run your mouth like that?!"
"Running alone won't give you an answer. You have to crash into something before you can take its measure. If fear of failure keeps you from even trying, that unknown terror will only grow—until it finally swallows you whole."
"Ha. Anyone listening would think you were some old man who'd lived for decades. I've put in more effort than you, made more attempts than you. And failed more times than I can count in the process."
"Time doesn't matter. Density does. The same goes for attempts. What matters is how much heart you pour into each one. Have you ever staked everything you are on a challenge?"
That look of condescension, that air of knowing everything—and, underneath it, a faint tremor of unease.
Looking at this mage, I saw my past self, and before I knew it I was getting a little worked up.
Apply the human nervous system to a robot? You're abandoning Dr. Haines's artificial wave-generation project? Are you insane? Do you have any idea how many people are dying to be on that team?
That's Dr. Haines's project, not mine. I'll be recognized for a project I designed myself. Watch me.
Was this how my colleagues had looked at me back then?
In the end it had been the right call—but at the time, I had gambled everything on that choice.
Scrape—
I shoved my chair back and stood. When our faces were level, the tremor in his eyes became even clearer.
He was shaken.
"Think it over carefully. Life is long. I hope you understand that a true loser isn't someone who fails—it's someone who gives up."
I walked straight out.
"Hoo…"
I let out a long breath, easing the tightness that tension had wound around my chest.
This had been a huge gamble for me as well. With no guarantee of ever meeting another sixth-circle mage, answering his rejection with provocation instead of clinging harder was pure instinct.
Clack—
VRRRRROOOOM!
The moment had already passed. Time couldn't be rewound.
My philosophy was never to regret what was done. That was how you stopped hesitating before the next challenge.
"If this doesn't work out, I'll just ask Father to arrange a meeting with the Duke of Mardin."
Something would work out.
It wasn't as if there was only one sixth-circle mage in the entire world.
Scrape—
Andersen watched the Black Terrahole recede beyond the window, a desolate look on his face.
He shut the window, opened a dust-coated drawer, and took out the mirror inside.
The man in the glass looked nothing like the one in his memories.
"…I've… gotten pretty rough, haven't I."
He pulled on an outer coat and stepped outside for the first time in a very long while.
Aside from the occasional trip for liquor and food, he almost never left the house. The sunlight, after so long, felt surprisingly warm.
"Tsk."
After a long walk he arrived at a small guild building on the outskirts.
A shabby sign. Mold-stained walls. When he pushed open the wooden plank door, two men were sprawled at a table, leering at a waitress.
"A customer?"
"Doesn't look like you've got any coin. Looking for a tavern wench or something? Heh heh heh heh."
"We've got wenches right here—hahahahaha!"
"Is Derick here?"
"Derick? You mean the Guildmaster?"
"You crazy bastard. Where'd you even hear the Guildmaster's name to spout that kind of crap—GRAAAAAAH!!"
Andersen's eyes flared wide, and one of the men clutched his throat as he lifted into the air, thrashing.
"Ghk…, kaff! S-spare me…"
"A m-m-mage?"
The other slammed his forehead to the floor and trembled.
"We didn't recognize you! Forgive us, Mage!"
Thud!
When Andersen released the magic, the remaining man also pressed his head to the ground.
"Forgi—kehk, kehk!"
"The Guildmaster isn't here right now!"
The young woman behind the counter cried out in a panic.
"Then call him."
"What? But right now, to call the Guildmaster, he's too far—"
"Then I'll find him myself."
Andersen's coat billowed as mana began to flood the air—
"What brings the likes of you here, Andersen."
A man wearing an eyepatch over his left eye came down the stairs.
"I came because I was curious about something."
"Follow me."
They went up to a room on the third floor, and Derick immediately tossed him several sheets of parchment.
"It's about Bladewyn's third son, I take it. Here. Look at that."
"How did you know?"
"You've gotten better at jokes. The whole city heard you arrive with that racket—how could I not know?"
"Fair enough."
If the man couldn't figure out even that much, Andersen never would have come looking for him in the first place.
Andersen unfolded the parchment at once and checked the information on Robon Bladewyn.
"…This is true?"
"It is. I was surprised while investigating, too. Robon Bladewyn has become a completely different person. Or maybe he was like that all along."
Derick stroked his chin, a meaningful look in his eye as he studied the documents.
"Been holed up in the estate researching magitech, has he? At this level, everything he did before was probably an act."
"Why bother?"
"Reasons are easy enough to invent. Rebellion against a father who disapproves of magitech, for instance."
"He doesn't seem like that type."
"Or maybe he had a real reason to put on an act."
"A reason?"
"Say, for example… that outside attention needed to disappear?"
"······."
Hearing it from Derick only made things murkier. Robon Bladewyn. What kind of man was he, really?
"What's this? Robon-001?"
"His first invention, apparently. A portable water purifier or something? I hear the effect is excellent."
A long cylindrical rod. Put water in, and clean water came out.
"Is that even possible?"
"Plenty of people have seen it with their own eyes. By now the Steel Knights should have reached the Bladewyn estate. Word of this Robon-001 will be everywhere soon. It'd be nice if we could get our hands on one before then."
A faint smile touched Derick's lips. Andersen's expression hardened at the sight.
"I haven't said a word yet."
"Sometimes you don't need words to know. Like with you right now, Andersen."
"Nngh."
"You know information is the lifeblood of a thieves' guild, right? Even for you—nothing's free."
"…I'll try."
"Good. That's enough."
Pleased with the deal, Derick held out his hand. Andersen sighed. Getting dragged into something unnecessary was already giving him a headache.
"While you're at it, tell him to drop by our Blue Night's Rats sometime."
"I'll mention it."
Having wrapped up a thoroughly satisfying trip, I returned to the estate humming a little tune.
When I arrived, the household was unusually lively.
"You've returned, Young Master?"
"Something going on?"
Rachel smiled and led me inside.
"The Patriarch is calling for you."
"Me?"
Wondering what it could be, I headed straight for the Patriarch's hall.
The crest of Bladewyn—an eagle perched atop a hill—was carved with exquisite care into the great doors.
That lofty bearing, as if surveying a battlefield, looked exactly like the knights of Bladewyn themselves.
It reminds me of Father somehow.
Thinking that, I entered—and found my brother Gain already there.
He still wore his armor, as if he'd only just returned from a mission.
"You've come."
"Yes, Father. You called for me?"
"I called for you."
Gain turned and beamed at me.
"Thanks to your Robon-001, we completed the mission safely. Thank you."
The filth caked on his armor made it clear the mission hadn't been easy.
Honestly, I'd wondered how much help a portable water purifier could even be—so hearing it had actually been useful was a relief.
I'd half-worried it might have done nothing at all.
If Brother is saying it himself, that means I can count on research funding, right?
The thought of research funds brought a smile to my lips. First things first—I'd buy every magitech book I could get my hands on.
"Without this, the mission would have been several times harder. There might even have been fatalities."
"…What?"
I was stunned. Just because they'd gotten a portable water purifier?
And Gain didn't seem like the type to lie that far on my behalf. Downplay an achievement, maybe—not inflate one.
What… did they beat monsters to death with it or something?
I still didn't understand, but either way, it had been a huge help—good news for me. At this rate I could even ask for a bigger research budget.
"I'm glad, Brother."
Gain nodded, then dropped to one knee before Father and made a formal request.
"I would like to give half of this mission's performance bonus to Robon, Father."
"…Half?"
"Yes. And the soldiers said they want to share their bonuses as well."
"Even the soldiers?"
"Yes."
Father and I were both stunned.
What… the hell? Did they actually beat monsters to death with that thing?
Given Gain's personality, I'd figured he might peel off a little for me—but half? And the soldiers joining in?
Wow. What a generous brother. I loved it.
"So it seems."
Father's gaze turned to me.
"I gratefully accept."
Humility was a luxury. What if I demurred once and they decided not to give it? In Korea, that attitude might get you called names—but this wasn't Korea.
Besides, wasn't I supposed to be the family wastrel? Acting however I pleased would just get a shrug. Mm.
"Very well. Including that, and considering your contribution to this mission, I will grant you a reward as well. Is there something you want?"
What a windfall. This kind of treatment—it had been so long I barely knew how to process it.
Back in Korea, no matter what you built, there were only hyenas waiting to steal the credit.
"Please build me a research lab of my own on the estate."
"…A research lab. I believe you already have a workshop."
"That's just a temporary space I converted from a storeroom. It's cramped, and the equipment is inadequate. If I had a proper space, I could make even better things."
"Better than these?"
"Yes."
Perhaps my bold answer impressed him.
Well… if he can produce something this remarkable in that crude little place… Gain muttered beside us.
That one cost less than five silvers to make, Brother.
"Very well. Construction will begin at once."
"Thank you, Father!"
Was cool-headedness a family trait in this house? Ask for something and they barely hesitated before granting it.
As the saying went—if you're going to serve, serve a rich household. I was starting to understand why. The scale was simply different.
"There is a condition, however."
…Or so I'd thought. Of course. No free favor without a price. As if he'd just hand things out like that.
"Please name it, Father."
What would he ask for? I tensed despite myself. What would the Iron-Blooded Knight request?
"The seats in the Black Terrahole are a bit uncomfortable."
"…The seats?"
"Yes."
"Is that difficult?"
All the tension drained out of me. I'd braced for something hard, and now I felt like an idiot for worrying.
"Not at all. I'll install the full option package."
"Full option?"
"Hahaha. Meaning I'll pack it full of every feature imaginable."
"I see. Then I shall wait."
"Yes!"
Construction on my research lab began the very next day. Watching it with quiet satisfaction, I had every seat in the vehicle replaced for Father's request.
And while I was at it, I tuned the whole vehicle. The design hadn't sat right with me anyway, so I used the chance to upgrade the exterior a full step.
In just four days, the Black Terrahole R1—Robon 1—was complete.
"Everyone, gather around!"
I assembled the entire household in the central garden courtyard. A stage for the Black Terrahole showcase.
When the black cloth covering it was pulled away, eyes went wide all around.
Wasn't a car supposed to be about style first, performance second?
Of course they were stunned. They'd never once seen a design this high-level, steeped in modern aesthetic sense.
"This is the new version of the Black Terrahole—the Black Terrahole R1!"