The Alchemist's Experimental Material Was a Witch (1)
The man who poked his head out tilted it with a baffled expression. “A mage? What do you mean, a mage…?”
“There must have been some miscommunication. Just a moment, please.”
He came clattering down the stairs and stopped right in front of me.
“First, allow me to apologize. I don’t have money for servants, so the house isn’t properly cleaned and I’ve kept a guest waiting like this…”
The one offering this awkward bow was a middle-aged man with a slightly receding hairline. His belly had begun to soften, but for his age he carried a perfectly ordinary frame. The guest I had been sent to meet wore a knee-length coat that wasn’t overly thick. The fabric was spattered with colorful, stubborn-looking stains.
“A pleasure. My name is Naixon. As you can see, I’m no aristocrat, so I have no family name. I earn my bread as a modest alchemist and natural philosopher.”
“The pleasure is mine. I’m Karin. I’m a mage.”
“You’re telling me you’re… a mage? But…”
He let the sentence die as his gaze traveled up and down my body. He was taking in the prostitute’s shawl draped over my robe, the thin, suggestive garments visible beneath it, and the flimsy string sandals that looked more like bare feet than proper footwear—nothing that belonged with a mage’s robe.
“…Yes, exactly what you’re thinking. A mage who works at Arto’s inn as one of the ‘Friends of the Free People.’”
“But if you’re a mage, you could offer your services to any caravan and earn a fortune. How in the world did you end up…”
Naixon’s voice carried genuine sympathy, but I answered with a bitter smile, cutting off his kindness before it could go further.
“Mages have circumstances. Prostitutes have circumstances. Everyone does. You must be curious, but I can’t answer. I’m sorry.”
“I see. Of course it’s none of my business. Forgive me for prying.”
Even from that short exchange I could tell Naixon was a gentleman. It felt strange that a man like him would be seeking out a mage who sold her body.
“So why were you looking for a mage?”
I added the question with the faint lilt of an advertisement.
“Most of the men who ask for me at the house are thirstier for real conversation than for sex. Is that what you wanted, sir?”
“Not exactly. Living alone does get lonely, so a talking companion would be welcome, but what I requested was neither a conversationalist nor a bedmate… It seems the owner misunderstood. What I asked for was, well…”
Naixon cleared his throat.
“Not a mage, but someone with high sensitivity to magical creatures. I enclosed several test sheets in the letter—paper that changes color when touched by such a person. Did he not mention it?”
“I heard nothing about that.”
“Hmm… He must have jumped to conclusions. Well, I can’t send you away now that you’re here. Would you follow me to the laboratory?”
He turned toward the stairs leading to the second floor. I followed without a word.
Naixon’s laboratory—only one among many that filled the mansion, I suspected—was on the second floor beside a window overlooking the main street. Sunlight poured in, making it far less grim than the typical alchemist’s lair. I had graduated from a magic university, not an alchemy one, so my exposure to such rooms had been limited to glimpses during my school days.
Naixon rummaged through several drawers before handing me a rough square of paper, a little larger than a thumbprint and dyed a soft pink.
“Hold this. It won’t take long. Perhaps the time it takes to walk slowly around this room once? You don’t actually need to walk, of course.”
One or two minutes at most. I pressed the paper between my fingers while my mind drifted, eyes wandering across the laboratory. The shelves crowded with glassware and reagents stirred a faint, hazy memory of the chemistry labs I had seen on Earth long ago.
My memories of that other world had grown dim, and these days I thought of myself only as Kaira, the baker’s daughter who had been born into this one. Yet a fragile thread of my original identity still remained. Whenever something tugged on it, a quiet melancholy rose inside me.
“That should be enough. Open your hand, please.”
“Yes.”
I lifted my fingers. The spot where my skin had touched the paper glowed with a soft, translucent blue circle.
“Not bad at all,” Naixon murmured.
“Given that the university classified you as a magic user rather than a researcher, there may be some correlation between magical talent and sensitivity to living magical constructs. I’ve only been able to form a hypothesis, however. Meeting enough mages to test it properly would be difficult.”
“I see. I’m glad I could be of use. What happens now?”
“Well…”
Naixon hesitated, clearly choosing his words.
“Since you’re in that line of work, this is something you would need… or at least something you would understand the value of…”
If the only requirement had been sensitivity to magical creatures, there would have been no reason to summon someone from the brothel. There had to be another reason he had gone to such lengths. That was why he wore such a troubled expression now, why he kept postponing the explanation.
Something a prostitute would need.
What could it be?
“You can speak plainly. That’s why I’m here. Despite appearances, I receive rather good reviews for conversation.”
“Very well. It concerns… contraception.”
“Contraception… Excuse me?”
I stared at him, utterly dumbfounded. This was the last subject I had expected.
“Yes. It must be one of the greatest worries for someone working as a ‘Friend of the Free People.’ I’ve never used the service myself, so it’s only a guess on my part.”
In truth, I had never worried about contraception in this line of work. All I had to do was turn back time, even when the act itself had been forced upon me. I knew it tormented the other women, though. Some were forced to quit when their bellies began to swell. Others resorted to crude, dangerous abortions. As for abortions… they were closer to miscarriages, and I had endured one myself.
It was not a pleasant topic. My thoughts kept spiraling until they dragged me back to that basement, to Father— I bit down gently on my lower lip.
“It really is a concern for you, then…”
Naixon seemed to have drawn his own conclusions from my expression. I saw no point in correcting him.
“That’s right. Since you called yourself an alchemist, I assume you’re developing some kind of contraceptive that doesn’t harm the mother?”
“Similar. But… a little different. What I’ve created is… or rather, what I’ve modified. I’m not sure whether to call it creation or alteration, but in any case, it is a living organism.”
Contraception through a living creature. That explained why he had tested my sensitivity to magical life-forms—to see whether I could communicate with it.
My instincts prickled unpleasantly. He had treated me with perfect courtesy so far, yet something felt wrong. I couldn’t say what, exactly, only that the feeling was there.
“Would you like to see it? We’ll need to go to another room.”
I hesitated a moment, then nodded.
“Yes. Please show me. I’ll be staying five days anyway, so I’ll see it sooner or later.”
Noticing the tension in my voice, Naixon offered a reassuring smile.
“It’s not that frightening. This way.”
I followed him down a gloomy hallway where the floorboards groaned beneath our steps. I wondered how anyone could live in such a place.
He had probably bought the large house simply to secure as many laboratories as possible. Still, as an alchemist he could sell expensive gunpowder and distillates at a premium. Even if he couldn’t afford servants, he might have just enough to keep the building from collapsing.
We crossed the wide central corridor and reached the opposite wing. Unlike the sunlit laboratory that faced the main street, this room overlooked a narrow alley. Its door was a heavy iron slab.
“Hup.”
The door was as heavy as it looked. Naixon threw his whole weight against it, hinges screeching, until it finally gave way.
Only faint light filtered in from the alley, and the floor was littered with unidentifiable objects. The room was dim and filthy, yet Naixon moved through it with the ease of a man walking in bright daylight.
People who never clean are all the same.
I followed the alchemist cautiously.
He picked up a container that glowed with an unnatural light even in the darkness. It was forearm-length, with a metal base and lid and transparent glass walls.
Inside, a translucent mucus writhed as though alive. No one needed to tell me—this suspicious, slime-like thing was the magical creature.
“I took a wild slime as the base and applied various alchemical techniques to create this organism.”
Of course.
“For the duration of our contract, you will serve as the test subject for this creature—or rather, these creatures. I have prepared several variants.”
I let out a small, silent sigh. Of course the sort of man who would rent a prostitute for five full days could not possibly be ordinary.
I kept my voice steady. “Then… do I have to, um… insert it… down there?”
“In the vagina or the uterus, you mean?”
He had summoned a prostitute yet spoke only of experiments. Like a man who had long ago sealed himself away from women, he possessed zero delicacy. Strangely, it reminded me of the person I had been back on Earth. I found I didn’t entirely dislike it.
“No, that isn’t the method. Though now that you mention it, such a modification is possible. I’ll make a note of it for later research.”
Naixon nodded to himself and scribbled something down. He really was the scholarly type.
“But your guess about internal symbiosis was correct. That is why I needed someone sensitive to magical creatures. Karin, the place where you must commune and coexist with this organism is…”
Naixon finished the sentence as casually as if he were discussing the weather.
“Your head. We will implant the creature inside your skull, directly into the brain.”