Is He Actually a Total Bum?

"...Just call me Magician."

"Oh, come on. We're going to be seeing each other a lot from now on, so wouldn't it be nice to at least know each other's names?"

First things first: the person standing in front of me was from South Korea.

Someone dragged into this otherworld just like me.

But just because we came from the same place didn't mean I could let my guard down and speak casually.

The Gallery operated on anonymity, which was precisely why people could talk to each other as equals, regardless of the gap in their power.

Taking it to the extreme — even if a beggar and a king became friends through the Gallery, they still wouldn't be friends if they met in real life, would they?

Friendships like this only held together as long as neither side knew who the other really was.

That was why I was using formal speech right now.

At our first meeting, I had tried casual speech once, just to see if it might actually fly — but that was as far as that idea went.

Lost in such thoughts, I let out a small chuckle at the silver-haired magician staring straight at me.

"Sylvia. Call me Lady Sylvia. I'm far older than you, after all."

"Ah, understood."

Sylvia.

Thanks to a pretty decent brain that never ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠forgot anything it heard once, I filed the name away in my memory.

Doesn't ring any bells, though.

It was a name I'd never heard anywhere before.

How should I put it — not famous.

There were five Archmages in this world, and she didn't seem to be one of them.

Which I considered a stroke of luck.

Word is those people have rotten personalities.

At least she wasn't one of those sour-tempered old codgers.

Still, I couldn't afford to relax completely.

There was a saying that mages were arrogant and rude by nature, and it circulated for a reason — plenty of them really were like that.

Probably because research made them irritable.

With that in mind, I asked her.

"So, where should I go..? I'd like to wash up a bit, too."

"That room there. Go to the room on the right, wash ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠up, and change into the clothes I've set out."

I didn't bother asking how clothes that would fit me had been prepared in advance.

Well, she'd have sorted it out somehow with magic, surely.

Following her instructions, I stepped into the room on the right and found a comfortably sized space waiting for me.

There was even a magically constructed bath along one wall.

"...Oh, this is state-of-the-art."

It was very state-of-the-art.

Otherworld or not, bathing culture here hadn't exactly been well developed.

Well — that is, it hadn't been, until we Travelers arrived and revolutionized it.

Modern folks all know hygiene comes first, after all.

My guess was that there was a Gallerist among the high-ranking officials.

They ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠never revealed themselves on the Gallery, but whenever word got around that something was unbearably inconvenient, the state would suddenly start overhauling it.

Whoever it was, they had to be sitting pretty high up.

"Anyway, I'm kind of sleepy."

I'd stayed up all night hunting for bread yesterday, so maybe that was why I wanted to catch a little shut-eye.

But fat chance of that.

They call you in to clean the house, and you fall asleep the moment you arrive?

Who in their right mind would trust and employ someone that lazy?

If I were the employer, I'd cut me on the spot.

With that sobering thought, I scrubbed the grime off every corner of my body and got dressed.

"Oh."

Miraculously, the clothes fit me perfectly.

As if someone had prepared them just for me.

It was endlessly curious, but I was still too early in my career to be amazed by things like this.

They say mages use all kinds of wondrous tricks, after all.

If I gawked at this, I'd probably faint outright at whatever came next.

So thinking, I opened the door and stepped out — and there was Sylvia, standing right in front of it.

"...Have you eaten?"

"I did have a piece of bread?"

"Then go down to the first floor and eat. It's already set out."

"Oh... yes, ma'am."

Apparently the "room and board provided" claim hadn't been a lie after all.

They'd given me a shower the moment I arrived, and now a meal on top of it.

Even playing servant in someone else's house, it seemed better to work for a wealthy household.

Maybe that was just what a mage's home was like — it was stocked with every convenience imaginable.

So thinking, I carefully made my way down to the first floor.

Sylvia's house had three stories.

First floor: dining.

Second floor: sleeping.

Third floor: laboratory.

Naturally, the third floor was the biggest.

I did want to see it at some point.. but eating came first, surely.

With that thought, I reached the ground floor and—

"..Oh."

A piece of bread and some soup sat on the table.

This was probably how Sylvia solved her own meals, too.

Impressive, I thought, and began slowly savoring the bread and soup.

Honestly speaking, I'd reached my limit.

I needed someone to clean the house.

Dust and the like I could sweep away in a single pass of magic, but the various trash, papers, and research results strewn across the floor were another matter entirely — I couldn't just blast them with magic recklessly.

One careless slip, and my ongoing research might vanish along with them.

And doing it myself was simply out of the question…

"Too much hassle."

It was a very big hassle.

Couldn't be helped, though.

It wasn't some cramped little shack — it was a three-story house.

This is why I said I'd just live underground…

But they told me all manner of insects and beasts came crawling out of the underground, so I'd had no choice but to purchase a three-story house instead.

Which cost me a fair chunk of change.

Granted, being on the outskirts of the city, it hadn't drained an enormous sum.

"...Still, posting a public ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠recruitment notice feels a bit much."

Given my personal reputation, putting out an open call was slightly problematic.

Publicly, I was known as Asil, the Archmage.

An Archmage of that caliber, posting a job listing?

People would swarm like hornets trying to become my disciple, and sifting a suitable candidate out of that swarm would be its own full-time job.

Which was exactly why I turned to my tried-and-true board — the one I used whenever research stalled and nothing was going right.

In other words, I decided to post the recruitment notice on the Gallery.

However—

"Hmm… this is a little off."

The state of my username, the state of my post history — neither was exactly… presentable.

How should I put it — to anyone looking, I appeared to be completely out of my mind.

When in reality I was a perfectly well-adjusted individual.

And so I began deleting my posts one by one, by hand.

I had no idea what the Gallery actually was, but making deletion automatic through magic proved impossible.

The window floated in empty air, yet it couldn't be clicked — you had to input everything mentally, in a manner of speaking.

So thinking, I wiped out every last post and changed my username as well.

To something that at least looked normal.

I'd always had a personal fondness for fire-type magic, so that was the handle I came up with.

Username changed, I put up the recruitment notice.

"Mm, good."

A recruitment notice that looked suspicious to absolutely no one.

So I posted it without a moment's hesitation, and…

Then—

"Huh?"

The comments weren't rolling in.

With conditions this good, I'd expected dozens — and only five showed up?

My pride stung a little, but I chose to look on the bright side.

Fewer people I'd have to weed out.

And so, as I was going through the comments—

it became—

It kept shrinking.

And at the very end, one comment remained.

One comment that, to anyone's eye, had been written in a frantic rush.

Granted, I'd said first come, first served, but I'd always intended to vet people in person before hiring.

In the extreme case, if the very first applicant turned out to be a necromancer, I had zero intention of employing them.

With that in mind, I began digging through TotallyABum's posting history.

I accelerated my thoughts with magic and flew through every post at blinding speed.

And then I could be certain.

"...He really is a bum."

The man was, in fact, a genuine bum.

No matter how committed you were to a bit, keeping it up for a solid year would be nearly impossible — and this person had spent that entire year doing everything a bum could possibly do.

Rushing over the instant anyone announced a giveaway, maintaining an updated list of places bums needed to avoid.

For a bum, he was honestly living quite diligently.

And that was exactly why I liked him.

"...He'll work hard, at least."

Originally I'd planned to pay wages on top of everything, but if it came to this, room and board alone should suffice.

He'd still be grateful for the work, surely.

The house's facilities were that good.

So thinking, I left a comment on his old post.

The reply came almost instantly.

"Hmm?"

But that location was suspiciously detailed.

As if he knew every last corner of Lukfelton inside and out.

That couldn't be right, though.

Lukfelton was famous for being an absolute labyrinth of a city.

I wouldn't know, but that spot was probably some well-known landmark.

So thinking, I replied.

And then, a short while later—

I set the coordinates and cast a teleportation spell.

And there, before my eyes—

"So you're the one called TotallyABum, then?"

—sat a genuine bum, lovingly eating a piece of rotten bread.