Corpse-Wiping Part-Time Job at the Magic Tower #1

"...What exactly are you trying to say?"

I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠blinked and stared at the old man.

Only now that he was closer did I get a proper look at him.

White-haired and weathered, he carried a bulging bundle slung over his shoulder. His long beard gave him a mysterious, almost otherworldly air.

"I'm living a cursed life? And how would you know that, old man?"

"It's obvious if you know what to look for. I learned to read faces in my younger days. Judging by your features, your life is tangled up in knots with no sign of ever coming loose. Am I wrong?"

"Hm."

He grabbed me out of nowhere and started going on about face-reading. Reeked of a scam artist peddling fortune-telling or some "do you believe in the Way" bullshit. He wasn't wrong about my life being a tangled mess, but that just made me warier of him.

"And those horns on your head — you were born an incubus, weren't you? The Dream Demon Clan mostly lives wretched lives. They can't control that innate lust of theirs and drag trouble with them everywhere they go. A vicious curse clings to your fate. Keep living as you are, and you'll unquestionably meet a miserable end."

The old man kept talking.

He wasn't wrong about how most incubi ended up. They lived debauched lives using their "unique abilities to seduce women," and sooner or later ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠they got tangled up in some bloody love feud and died. That was the norm.

'Not that I'll ever end up in a love feud.'

I was an innocent virgin incubus who had never seduced a woman and had no plans to. I had no interest in living like my kin, chasing every skirt in sight and wallowing in depravity.

But even living unlike a typical incubus, my future still had no answers.

I had no savings from my adventuring work, no solid connections I'd built. Someday, when I was old and my strength gave out, I wouldn't be able to find proper work. A future of starving to death on some cold city street was waiting for me.

"A miserable end? Are you standing here cursing me to my face?"

Whatever the case, his words had soured my mood something fierce.

Telling a guy with a shit life that he's got a shit life — was there any insult worse than that?

"It's not a curse. I wouldn't have stopped you if I didn't have a solution. As I said, I possess a fine item. A treasure that can overturn your fate entirely."

"Oh, for fuck's sake. Then stop dragging it out and show me. If it's worthless junk, you'd better brace yourself."

I raised both arms, ready to fold the old man's spine in half.

Elder abuse!

Something I'd never have dreamed of in my past life in a Confucian country. But after twenty-one years on this continent, my nature had warped. I'd reached the point where I could dispense equal-opportunity violence to anyone who threatened me, regardless of age or sex.

"Heh heh. So impatient. Wait just a moment."

The old man paid no mind to my threatening gesture and unhurriedly pulled something from inside his robes.

"This is it."

"A book?"

It was a book. That was what he'd produced.

Hearing my blurted-out mutter, the old man shook his head.

"Not an ordinary book. This is a Magic Tome."

In his hand was a thick volume bound in leather. When he casually flipped through the pages, I caught glimpses of illustrations — figures forming hand seals and the like.

"A Magic Tome, huh."

The moment I realized what it was, I felt thrown off balance.

I hadn't expected much, but something genuinely significant had emerged from the old man's bundle.

"Now do you understand? That an opportunity to change your fate has arrived?"

"You're telling me to learn magic? To buy that book and study it?"

"Precisely. Magic is the power to carve out your own life. Whatever inferior race you were born into, once you become a mage on the Midgard Continent, you'll be treated like nobility. A capable mage is welcomed wherever they go."

I knew full well how incredible a skill magic was. Once you'd mastered magic, your origins meant nothing. There were even cases among reviled races like mine — people who'd learned magic and turned their lives around completely.

"What do you say? Aren't you tempted to possess this Magic Tome?"

"Of course I want it. But aren't Magic Tomes all insanely expensive? A tome this thick would probably cost gold coins, wouldn't it?"

On the Midgard Continent, Magic Tomes were costly items. Even a tome containing the most trivial knowledge required silver coins to purchase. A world away from someone like me, scraping by on a trickle of copper coins.

I let out a sigh and shrugged.

"I don't have a single coin to my name right now. If you're looking to sell a Magic Tome, you shouldn't be pitching it to a broke-ass bastard like me."

"Even without coin, you must have possessions of value. Show me whatever you have for now. I'll figure out the accounting for the book's price myself."

"I do have something that might be worth a bit."

I opened the pouch hanging at my waist.

Inside were exactly eight goblin fangs. Junk items worth two copper per fang — sixteen copper in total. Obviously, nowhere near enough to trade for a Magic Tome.

But the old man's reaction was unexpected.

He peered into the pouch and immediately spoke up.

"That should suffice."

"Excuse me?"

Had I misheard? I asked again, but his answer didn't change.

"Eight goblin fangs. That's more than enough to trade for this Magic Tome."

"W-wait just a second. You're holding a Magic Tome. How can you trade it for this kind of junk?"

The old man bared his teeth in a grin.

"I'd wager those fangs in that pouch are your entire fortune. And this Magic Tome in my hand is likewise all I possess. We're ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠exchanging the most valuable thing each of us owns — how could that be called unfair?"

What kind of absurd calculation was that? I stood there gaping, dumbfounded by his words.

Swish.

The old man snatched the pouch, and in the blink of an eye, he pressed the Magic Tome into my hands.

"H-hey! Old man?"

"The deal is done. Now go and learn magic. Become a mage and overturn this life of crawling in the dirt. An incubus reborn as an archmage — just imagining it is utterly fascinating."

With a laugh, the old man brushed past me.

I couldn't bring myself to stop him as he walked away.

"What the fuck...."

I'd traded mere goblin fangs and gotten a Magic Tome in return? A Magic Tome that should've required gold coins to buy, and I'd acquired it by handing over worthless trash. Even if I never learned magic, just reselling the book would make this an overwhelmingly profitable exchange.

"Ah, I'm so lucky."

Honestly, I felt like I'd gotten away with robbery. Maybe the old man wasn't all there mentally. Any moment he might snap back to his senses and demand the book back.

I bolted down the road and fled back to the city. Only once I reached my inn room in the downtown district did I finally let out a breath of relief. I'd kept checking behind me the whole run back, and there'd been no sign of the old man following.

So now I could learn magic too? I could become a mage?

Filled with anticipation, I opened the book to the first page.

"Wh-what the hell?"

And then I understood.

The old man had scammed me.

"There's nothing here! Nothing's written at all!"

When the old man had held the book, its pages had clearly been filled with content. But the page I'd opened now had nothing written on it. A book consisting of dazzlingly blank white pages. No matter how many times I licked my finger and turned to the next page, all I saw was blank emptiness.

Fuck, had I actually been scammed? I stared at the book with a mesmerized expression. I kept staring until the late hours before dawn.

*

I came to my senses the next morning.

Having gotten at least a little decent sleep, I sat up and fixed my gaze on the thick book I'd left on the bed. When it had been in the old man's hands, it had definitely contained contents. But now the book held nothing at all. The illustrations and letters that had densely filled its pages had evaporated as if they'd been a lie.

If this were Earth, it would be an inexplicable phenomenon. But the Midgard Continent was a world where magic and sorcery existed. If the old man had shown me an illusion through magic the moment he opened the book, the disappearance of its contents was perfectly understandable. A clueless nobody like me had no ability to distinguish reality from illusion.

'So I saw a phantom.'

The old man had been some eccentric mage who got his kicks messing with people. He'd approached me to raise my hopes about turning my life around, only to drop me into disappointment. In professional terms, I'd been subjected to a pump-and-dump. The goal: take a balloon inflated with anticipation and [puncture] it into despair.

Dechaaat—.

Honestly, I felt deeply pissed off. But not angry enough to chase him down and get revenge. All he'd taken from me were cheap junk items. Financially, I hadn't really lost anything. I could probably recoup some coin by selling the book to a general goods merchant later. Not that I had any idea what it might fetch.

I shook it off and left the inn, heading for the Adventurer's Guild of Yoen-su.

I didn't have time to keep stewing over being scammed. I had zero money in hand, so I had to work today too.

The Adventurer's Guild of Yoen-su City. The guild named Gjallarhorn was the most traditional and established adventurer's guild on the western continent. For a mere adventurer's guild, it boasted a history spanning a hundred and fifty ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠years, and over those decades it had produced countless great adventurers.

But when introducing my affiliated guild, there was something far more important than history. Namely, that among the receptionists, there was a woman who was strikingly beautiful.

"Wendy, I'm here."

"Ah, you're early again today, Luke."

Wendy Bright. She was practically the face of Gjallarhorn — the guild's poster girl, in essence. A beauty with lovely chestnut hair and gentle, kind eyes. A body overflowing with allure beneath her neat work uniform. Breasts that looked ready to burst, a waist without an ounce of fat, and smooth, long legs stretching below her skirt. If you had to name the woman with the best figure in Yoen-su City, you'd point to Wendy.

When I first met her, I'd been so captivated by her beautiful face that I could barely hold a conversation. And when I realized she was my assigned receptionist — gods, the hopes I'd had.

You know that thing guys do — those private fantasies. Expecting some kind of personal relationship with Wendy, I'd unconsciously gotten ahead of myself. Every time we chatted lightly while I picked up a request, I'd let my imagination run wild about her in all sorts of ways.

Of course, after two years had passed, I didn't have a shred of those feelings anymore. By now, I knew. The truth that Wendy was a widow raising a child on her own. A widow with an adorable daughter who looked just like her. She looked too young to have a child, but still. Unable to forget her late husband, Wendy didn't seem interested in starting a new love.

After arriving at the guild's reception desk and exchanging brief greetings, I asked Wendy for a suitable request.

"Any new requests come in? Preferably something I can wrap up same-day."

"A same-day request? Please wait a moment."

A short while later, Wendy looked at me steadily and spoke.

"There is one request that pays a daily wage."

"What kind of request?"

"It came from the Magic Tower. It's a request to dispose of monster corpses. You have experience with this kind of work, don't you, Luke?"

The moment I heard those words, cold sweat broke out on my skin.

"A monster corpse disposal request? From the Magic Tower? Th-th-that's a bit...."