Barbarian Ornn
Unlike Jane, who had stepped into the potion shop and promptly drifted off on a journey through old memories, Blow stopped short the moment he laid eyes on the exterior of the potion shop Black Cat, his face tightening into a grimace.
The cat painted on the sign was so eaten away by rust that it was impossible to tell what color the creature had ever been, and the letters beneath it had faded until not a single character could be made out.
To Blow, the most important thing about a shop was its location, and the next was the atmosphere it gave off. You could stock the finest goods in the world, but you could not sell a single one until a customer walked through the door.
He had already failed the place in his mind. He was still standing there when a clerk from city hall, dabbing at the sweat on his face, ventured a careful question.
"Would you care to see the inside as well?"
"Might as well."
Blow followed him in with little enthusiasm, and the moment he saw the interior he was forced to stop dead once more. The place looked as if it had taken a direct hit in a bombardment.
The merchandise was heaped in such lawless disorder that it was difficult to believe any of it was actually meant to be sold, and the cabinets near the ceiling each played host to a spiderweb of its own. The farther one moved from the counter, the dust deepened in a gradient from chalk white to gray. The mere sight of it left his chest feeling clogged, and he could not stop clearing his throat.
He let out a long sigh and was about to take a step when a foul smell drove into his nose. Only much later would he learn its source: countless potion residues that had splattered the walls and dried there.
"They never wiped up the liquids that splashed while they were brewing. The colors are so vivid it's like staring at an abstract painting."
"The cleaning has fallen a bit behind, hasn't it?"
Catching the thoroughly disgusted look on Blow's face, the embarrassed clerk scratched his head and answered him.
"Most potion shops are like this, so it isn't exactly an unusual sight."
"True enough. That's why, whenever a potion shop comes on the market, it sits so long I break into a cold sweat. Sometimes I even end up cleaning the place myself."
"And do you get paid extra for that?"
"No, it's volunteer work. Of course, if it doesn't sell, my workload piles up, so a little self-interest creeps in. Haha..."
Even if it isn't the spirit of service, a spirit of challenge could certainly well up.
Thinking so, Blow raised a thumb to him.
This appearance—classic, if one were being kind, and hopelessly old-fashioned if one were not—was not a failing unique to Black Cat. Step into any potion shop and the scene was much the same. Most likely, no one had ever thought of it as a problem. The sort of people who might have raised the issue simply ordered their subordinates to deal with it. That much was plain from Jane, lost in her memories, smiling as she examined one thing after another.
Then I'll just have to be the first to call it a problem.
Back in his days as Han Ji-hoo, when he was a child, he used to pick kimchi straight out of the side-dish container with his chopsticks. The thug he could not even bring himself to call a father ate that way, so he had followed along without a thought. Later, when he went to Grandpa's house, Grandpa would move each side dish onto its own plate before setting the table. Blow told him not to bother, that it was a nuisance, but Grandpa only smiled. Once the habit grew familiar, he realized he could never go back to stirring his chopsticks through the containers the way he once had.
It had been a sharper experience than he expected, and that kind of sharpness carried a definite force. So Blow was certain of it. Manage this potion shop to even a quarter of the standard of his old convenience store, and the students would never set foot in another potion shop again.
He would begin with a potion shop, but the final shape he had in mind was something like a Korean convenience store, or one of those variety shops where a person could find nearly anything—a place where students could buy most of what they needed.
This isn't Seoul. It's Caipol. If I actually pull that off, it'll be a department store at the very least.
The thought was so absurd that a dry laugh escaped him. After turning the idea over and giving the place a rough once-over, he spoke to the clerk as if in passing.
"Let's go. I want to look at the restaurant building."
"Ah, yes. The young lady..."
Jane, just then, was lifting one item after another with a bright, eager little expression. She looked so happy that Blow decided to be considerate.
"She seems lost in her memories. Let's leave her be and go on our own."
"Yes, understood."
With that, the clerk and Blow slipped quietly out of the potion shop. Once outside, he drew a deep breath, marveling that the air of the Dusk Block could be this clear.
Back in the present, in front of the Black Cat potion shop.
Hearing the construction plans for the first time, Jane looked at Blow with an expression that said she did not like this one bit.
"Construction?"
"Yeah. Interior work."
"Didn't you say you'd leave it to me?"
"There has to be an opening before there's anything to leave to you."
"Then what about the things inside...?"
"There isn't much left, and almost none of it will sell. I'm dumping the lot at clearance prices. Maybe I'll run a raffle out front of the inn. Yeah, a raffle sounds fun."
Set against Jane's face, brimming with wounded injustice, Blow's eyes were sparkling.
"The previous owner barely charged me for the stock."
"H-how much?"
"About thirty gold?"
"For everything in there?"
"I'm telling you, there's nothing worth using."
"But there are dolls."
"You're saying you'd buy this lump of dust, right now?"
Blow picked up one of the dolls and tapped it. A pale cloud of dust rose from the thing. Jane opened her mouth, closed it again as if she had no choice, and turned her gaze elsewhere.
Just then the three who had been inspecting the interior from every angle returned to Blow. He was fairly tall for a human, yet his head barely reached their collarbones. Their bulk was that considerable. Thick necks, shoulders spread wide—anyone could see they belonged on a battlefield more than in a city like this.
One look at them and Jane, already frightened, slipped behind Blow.
The man who appeared to be their leader then offered him a smile far too gentle for that frame.
"We've looked all the way inside. You said you'd be replacing the wallpaper and the flooring?"
"Lay it all in a bright tone."
"A bright tone?"
"Yeah."
Jane had asked as if she could not believe it, and Blow answered at once. One of the barbarians then stepped closer and spoke with care.
"If the floor is a bright tone as well, the price goes up a bit. The estimate might even come out higher than the restaurant's, and that place is larger than this."
"That's fine."
When he nodded readily, the two hulking figures standing behind them bellowed in hearty voices.
"Boss has money!"
"He's rich, he's rich!!"
Hearing their chorus, Blow smiled faintly and corrected them.
"I don't have money."
"You don't?"
"Boss doesn't have money!?"
The pair shouted, eyes gone wide. Then the leader who had been speaking with Blow turned around. They flinched, and in thoroughly deflated voices they said:
"Sorry, Ornn..."
"We'll keep quiet, Ornn..."
The two trudged outside. Jane, who had been studying them closely, whispered a question to Blow.
"Are those... barbarians?"
"Yeah."
While she clung to his back and asked, the barbarian called Ornn rolled his neck and bowed at the waist.
"I apologize."
"It's fine."
"Those two are simple to a fault, but they work hard, and they do good work."
"I've heard the rumors. They say the jobs get finished quickly, too."
"Thank you for seeing us kindly. Plenty of people won't even call on us, because of their prejudices."
"Well, skill is what matters most, isn't it? If this comes out the way I want, I'll hire you again."
"We'll give it everything we have!"
Ornn bowed once more. A short while later Blow went inside the potion shop with him, drew several circles on a blank sheet, and marked them with some kind of glowing symbols.
"Boss, if I may ask—what are you thinking about just now?"
"Magic stones. If I set magic stones into the ceiling like this..."
"Magic stones?"
Jane, listening beside them, asked as if she did not understand, and Blow nodded.
"Yeah. Magic stones."
"Why would you hang magic stones from the ceiling?"
"It's too dark in here. We'll need to stay open in the evening, too."
"What? A potion shop is supposed to have that feeling—the bottles glittering in the light of the hearth—"
Blow shook his head as if he could not sympathize with her aesthetic in the slightest.
"Your first task, once you start at the potion shop, will be casting light magic on the magic stones hanging from the ceiling."
"......"
While Jane grew anxious, feeling the potion shop she had imagined drifting further and further from her, Ornn, who had been listening at her side, spoke to Blow with genuine curiosity.
"Didn't you also ask for the windows to be large display panes?"
"I did."
"You care a great deal about the light, don't you?"
"The goal is for the place to look bright and cheerful."
"Ah, bright and cheerful. Then if we do it like this..."
The two people least suited to the words bright and cheerful were the ones saying them, and Jane felt something close to cognitive dissonance. They went on talking for a long while after that, and Ornn diligently set down everything they discussed.
"I'll draw up an estimate from what you've said and come see you in about two days."
"Good. Put your back into it."
"Yes, sir!"
Ornn finished his farewells and headed outside. Jane watched him go, bent nearly double at the waist, then lowered her voice.
"I've never seen barbarians before."
"I only found out about them while I was looking for people this time. I hear there are a few at the knight school."
"I always thought barbarians were savage tribes who knew nothing but fighting, but they're... gentler than I expected."
"It's peacetime. These days the tribes even send people abroad to study, I hear. And because folks avoid them just for being barbarians, they can't charge much, either."
"Ah. The power of empathy really is something."
Jane nodded, her eyes narrowed to slits. Blow looked at her as if he could not believe it.
"You think I'm on that level?"
"Inside the magic school, you'd need a barbarian times twenty, at least."
"......"
"No? Thirty?"
"Anyway, start thinking about a name for the potion shop."
"You're just going to do whatever you want anyway."
She said it in a voice full of hurt. Feeling a little guilty, Blow fiddled needlessly with his collar.
"I'll take your opinion into account, so make sure you think of one."
"Okay."
"The urgent things are done, so I'm off to the library."
"You're really going?"
At her incredulous question, Blow shrugged.
"What, should I pretend to go? Don't tell me you never believed me all those times I said I was going to the library."
"A little? I mean, you never went even when you were a student, so why all of a sudden..."
"I told you, I'm going in search of wisdom. Anyway, I'm going."
Jane watched his retreating back and rubbed her eyes, then let out a small laugh.
While Blow was running himself ragged over the potion shop, Melo arrived in Blanya, led into the village by her mother, Romang.
"All right, Melo. Go and tell them you're sorry."
She already understood it in her head. She had practiced dozens of times on the way. Even so, she felt as if she could not move her feet at all. Hunched in on herself, she looked up at Romang with tears in her eyes, but Romang shook her head firmly and pointed at the door again.
"Hurry!"
"Hiiing..."
"Doing wrong is easy. Apologizing is hard."
"Okaaay..."
"Go say it, and come back!"
Melo dragged those impossibly heavy feet to the door, raised a hand, and knocked.
"Who is it?"
"I-it's Melo."
"Melo? Melo Greenhill?"
The door flew open. There stood Linda, who worked in the kitchen alongside Romang, looking down at her in startled surprise. Afraid she might be scolded, Melo shrank even smaller, swallowed once, and began to speak slowly and clearly, just as she had practiced.
"I... I'm sorry for causing you so much worry. I heard the people of the village were worried about me... I'm truly sorry......"
She said it and bowed, politely, all the way from the waist. Before long Linda bent her knees and brought herself down to Melo's eye level. What met the girl's eyes was a gaze as warm as spring.
"Auntie's all right. Are you feeling okay?"
"...Yes."
"Your mother was terribly worried. Don't do that next time. And thank you for being brave enough to come. Truly."
Then Linda stroked her hair. Melo's heart, which had been pounding only moments before, soon settled under that warmth, and her eyes grew wet. A few steps away, Romang watched the scene with quiet satisfaction and gave Linda a single nod of thanks.
"Melo! Next house! We have at least ten more to visit today."
"Okay..."
Looking out at the sunset spreading across the sky, daunted by how far they still had to go, Melo answered weakly.
Even so.
Her steps toward the next house were far lighter than before.
Lunch hour at Caypol Municipal Magic School, in the training room beneath Pétrus Hall.
"Hey, Hervena! This is way too much!"
Inside the training room, Skadi, who had been holding a flight spell, began to pitch from side to side as her body plunged downward. Hervena, every nerve fixed on her magic, had laid a gravity spell over her—a kind of spatial magic.
"Hey!!! Release it before my head cracks the floor!!"
The gravity vanished just before her head touched the ground. Only then, with room to breathe, did Skadi's eyes find Hervena, braced against the wall with one arm, looking exhausted.
"You done?"
"Yeah. That's enough for this round."
"Coming down?"
"Yeah. Thanks, as always, Skadi."
Almost before the words were out, Skadi landed and came over to her.
"Didn't take long today, did it? Felt like only about three minutes."
"Probably because I already used fire magic earlier."
"You were casting before I even got here?"
"Yeah."
"Do you have a private spring of mana somewhere? Impressive."
"I'm dizzy."
As she said it, she held her breath and pulled the cork from a potion bottle. A vicious smell spread through the entire training room. Skadi edged away from her, and Hervena, her face twisted, squeezed her eyes shut and began to choke the stuff down.
"Fuck, this tastes so awful."
She wanted nothing more than to smash the bottle on the floor that instant, but the bottle itself was worth its weight in gold, so she barely restrained herself. Then she held out a fresh potion to Skadi, who already looked thoroughly fed up.
"Want a glass?"
"No."
"I'm telling you, you have to drink it."
"I don't have the guts for that. I'll be happy as a minor mage."
"Fine. Suit yourself."
The reason Hervena forced the potion down, no matter what, was simple. Endure the taste of potions, and you become an archmage. That was one of the reigning truths of the magical world, and it came from the theory of Whittaker—founder of Caypol Municipal Magic School, and the man whose ideas had shaken the foundations of magic itself.
When magic first appeared, training had mostly meant cultivating the mind's eye: casting within a refined atmosphere and raising the density of one's magic. Whittaker, called both a genius without peer and an eccentric, put forward a different claim—that magic grows deeper the more you use it, and the purity of mana rises with use—and at the same time he chose to cast nearly every day, right up to the brink of mana exhaustion.
Everyone laughed at him. This was not physical training, they said; he was wasting his effort. Whittaker, however, became the first archmage and earned the title of Mage of the Empire, proving both himself and his theory for all to see. Afterward he refined that theory and founded a school: the very Caypol Municipal Magic School where they now stood.
The countless mages trained there helped the Empire unify the continent, and the conservative order of the magical world was overturned completely. One result was a change in how potions were regarded. Once used only in emergencies, to refill one's mana, they became supplements people took regularly in order to wring out even a little more.
There was, however, one enormous problem. The sap of the Tree of Vitality, Rodiom—the main ingredient of mana potions—tasted so utterly of nothing that Hervena was now hammering the wall with her fist.
"No matter how many times I drink it, it's still too disgusting."
"You've had a potion, so I suppose you'll have to cast again."
"Yeah. I'll do something different this time."
"I've always thought your water-attribute magic looks really cool."
"You think so? Nobody else says that. Anyway, thanks, Skadi. You're the only one around who can draw my mana out to the limit that fast."
"Blasting magic by yourself isn't any fun, is it? I'm honored. And my flying gets better, too."
Hervena listened quietly, thought for a moment, then spoke as if offering advice.
"You've got a fair amount of talent yourself. Why not push a little harder?"
"I'm going to live just like this."
"Fine. What are you doing tonight? Want to study together?"
"What are you talking about? I'm going straight to Blow's potato place."
"Practically a VIP."
Skadi giggled at the look on Hervena's face, which said, of course you are.
"Blow actually treats me like one."
"That young master, honestly... All right. From here on, you're watching me cast?"
"Make it water-attribute, if you would."
Skadi said it, and before long she had spread out a comfortable spot and lain down. Hervena nodded at once and immediately began to unfold a magic circle.
"Flower of Water."
⟨ Hyacinth ⟩
Dozens of tiny blossoms unfolded beautifully above her hand. Skadi could not help admiring the sight, but the smile at her lips was just beginning to turn bitter when a knock reached their ears.
"Who is it?"
"It's James. Young Master Julbert sent me."
Hervena was still in the middle of her spell, so Skadi went and threw the door open instead. James offered her a formal courtesy and spoke with care.
"Lord Julbert wishes to see Lady Hervena."
"So what's it about?"
"It concerns the upcoming election for student council president."
"Ah, is it that time already? Hervena?"
Hervena, who had already dispersed the magic circle and come over, asked James in an indifferent tone.
"Now?"
"No. He asked that you name a time convenient for you."
"...Sure. Whatever."
"Well, well! Hervena! Your popularity really is no joke!"
Skadi shot her a thumbs-up. Just then James's gaze shifted to her.
"If possible, he asked that Lady Skadi be brought along as well."
"What?"
When she asked as if she could not believe it, James emphasized it once more.
"Young Master Julbert said to bring Lady Skadi with you as well."