Chapter 20
Chapter 20
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 20
Chapter Title: Escape Arc (2)
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"The culprits are probably those Magic Trading Post guys on the second floor."
Kiru's words drew a nod from Nellin, the special-grade tech mage.
"Most likely. Even during the trade, that Trading Post leader showed interest in the pouch."
"The Trading Post leader—the one who killed Rag two years ago. All because she spilled coffee on his precious pouch."
Nellin's eyes widened at my words.
"Could he have been searching for an even better pouch ever since?"
"No idea, but at least I know he's the kind of lunatic who kills over a pouch."
Everyone has their obsessions. Mere was fixated on my other magic talents... too.
"They took your pouch, and Mere snatched my Privé dagger. The Shadow Merchant Guild sure is consistent."
"They handle normal trades most of the time, but when they want something, they'll steal it by any means necessary."
Uncle Kiru stared at me intently after I spoke.
"What they want... That's why they took everything from you at your youngest."
"What exactly brings you two here?"
As Nellin grew curious about our conversation, Uncle Kiru explained how he'd lost his Privé, and I shared my story—skipping my origins and Mere's true goal, framing it all as human experiments for research purposes.
"A gathering of the dispossessed..."
We had no words to counter Nellin's assessment.
"No—a gathering of those taking it back!"
Nellin corrected herself loudly, then covered her mouth with an "Oops" and laughed.
"I was planning to demand my freedom when my contract ends in two years. Mere probably won't allow it, though. So we'll need another way. Got any ideas?"
Uncle Kiru gazed at Nellin as he said this.
She pondered for a moment, then nodded with a bright smile, her orange hair swaying.
"We send a letter asking for help!"
"..."
Uncle Kiru looked dumbfounded, but I responded more gently.
"That's a great idea... but we have no way to deliver it. We can't leave the third floor, and we have no one to ask."
Fortunately, she elaborated.
"I can make a 'text communicator' with my purple magic! I can get the key material, and once we solve the communication paper issue, we're set."
From her explanation, a text communicator seemed like a magical fax machine from my past life.
She'd etch the communicator's magic circuits onto a manaite circuit board using her purple magic, attach a mana catalyst, place the communication paper on top, and infuse mana. That should make it work for one use.
The written message on the paper would print out in the recipient's text communicator inbox.
The problem was the communication paper.
Regular paper couldn't withstand the mana during transmission—it'd turn to ash in seconds.
"I can't make communication paper. I'm specialized in magic handling manaite circuit boards..."
I didn't know much about purple magic, but it was vast, covering more fields than any other— the foundation of all everyday magic tools.
Still, it was lucky Nellin could cobble together a one-use text communicator from scraps.
Her original clothes were magic tools linked to a mana coat; dismantling them would yield a manaite circuit board and a small mana catalyst.
"We can borrow a pen from Dregs or sneak one, but communication paper's the key."
Uncle Kiru, having spent eight years here, might know something. But he trailed off without more.
"Ever seen communication paper around?"
When I asked after a pause, he shook his head.
"Mere prefers her 'communication orb.'"
I recalled her holding something like a giant lollipop to her ear, with a boxy device in front. A communication orb must be like a magical phone.
"Mages, central hall guards, staff here—no one's handled paper like that, as far as I've seen."
Nellin countered Uncle Kiru's negativity with optimism.
"Maybe we just haven't noticed yet. But if we keep our eyes peeled from now on, I'm sure we'll find something."
Her radiant smile made me think I should try to be genuinely bright like her.
"Even if we get the paper, who do we send it to for help?"
I'd wondered since she mentioned letters.
"To the chairman of Acrom's Workshop Alley. Without me, transforming magic tool production stops—they'll step in at a national level."
'...Is Nellin that big a deal?'
"Didn't the Shadow Merchant Guild know who you were?"
"Probably not. If they did, they'd have exploited me for magic tools. The chairman warned me against dealing with them, but I was too naive and worldly-ignorant."
Even saying that, Nellin looked up with a smile.
"But! Meeting you two has tripled my hope. It'll work out."
I mentally applauded her positivity.
"Alright, plan set. You make the text communicator; we'll hunt for communication paper."
We all nodded as Uncle Kiru summed it up.
Wooong—fwoosh
At 10 p.m., the laundry room lights went out. Perfect timing to wrap up.
"How about we meet here every Sunday at 8 p.m.?"
I added to her suggestion for regular meets.
"Sounds good. And come anytime after 8 if you have more to say."
"Will do."
We parted with greetings, each carrying a spark of hope.
...A year passed after that, but we never found the communication paper.
We kept hope alive, meeting weekly in the laundry room to brainstorm alternatives while searching relentlessly.
Arcana Imperial Year 1486, December 1st.
A year since we started searching for communication paper, half a year since turning twenty-six, the first day of winter.
And the first of every month reminded me I was less than human to Mere—just livestock.
When did it start?
Exams had become sessions of enduring Mere's violence.
Enter the lab in nothing but underwear, stand before her, then "inspections" of endless abuse.
I stepped inside, steeling myself for today's ordeal.
'Cold...'
Early December was chilly enough; the lab's icy air on bare skin raised goosebumps everywhere.
Standing before Mere, I bowed deeply, staring only at the cold stone floor.
Lifting my gaze would meet her eyes, and I couldn't face my reflection in those hollow voids.
"No hair growth yet. Just useless height; inside, still a child."
Her voice dripped disdain.
I felt her gaze rake over me like inspecting vermin.
'Has Mere changed, or have I?'
Different from the terror four years ago at the first exam.
Humiliation then; now, added loathing fueled toxic shame and self-loathing.
My hardened body from training with Uncle Kiru, thicker frame—none protected me now. They only stoked her disgust more.
"Getting uglier. Eyes fiercer too."
Mere circled slowly, like a butcher eyeing livestock.
Her fingers dug into shoulders, chest; I gritted teeth against the pain.
"Don't tremble. Stand still."
At her command, I held my breath, stopping the shakes.
She approached with cold metal tools, prodding and tapping everywhere.
Each touch froze me; hard jabs nearly drew involuntary groans.
"Body's growing, but no secondary traits. No hair, no voice change."
Then her hand pressed my chest.
'Gasp...'
I flinched at the creepy contact.
"Hmph, disobeying orders... Think you're a man who can't take this? Answer."
I squeezed my eyes shut instead of replying.
I knew silence wasn't enough, but words only fueled her attacks.
Her voice chilled further in the quiet.
"Tch. Useless rice-waster."
She spat contempt, rolling up her sleeve.
"Enough talk. Time for your body to learn. Half a year past twenty-six, no changes—needs major stimulus."
Patience gone, she unleashed violence the rest of the session.
Hands, feet, ears, cheeks—nothing unscathed. My body gauged Privé's lethality firsthand.
Drip, drip
Blood everywhere from head to toe.
Deep cheek gashes, severed earlobe, mangled fingers...
A bloody wreck reflected in her eyes.
Finally, holy magic's white light enveloped me.
All wounds and losses healed like a lie—no pain left.
"Get out."
At Mere's words, I grabbed my clothes and fled.
Even closing the door, her loathsome gaze bored into my back; I hurried away.
Thud, thud, thud
My steps slowed unknowingly.
Walking the hall, my fingertips chilled.
'It's fine, I'm used to it,' I repeated, but deep self-loathing welled up.
Soon, I reached the laundry room.
Empty—no Uncle Kiru, no Nellin.
This sanctuary felt like a cold stone prison tonight.
"Hoo..."
I slumped under the vent, buried my face in my knees, stifling shaky breaths.
'Just got beat, lost a few bits. Nothing special, right?'
Not sudden; routine.
I steadied myself that way.
'Luck's rotten. Born into this mess... What a shit life.'
Bad blood, bad luck.
Self-pity changed nothing.
Just another tough day, I soothed.
Even forcing it down, the throbbing ache grew overwhelming.
Creeeak—
The door opened cautiously.
Nellin.
I knew by the sound alone.
She approached silently, squatting beside me.
"...Having a hard time?"
Warm, gentle voice.
I shook my head. Should say I'm fine, but words stuck.
Just clumsily hid my face on my arms.
"You don't have to hold back, Aroin."
She used my name. We'd started using first names soon after our first meeting.
"No need to pretend. You don't have to try so hard. If you want to cry... cry, Aroin."
Her informal warmth was the trigger.
Mind's walls cracked. Jaw trembled; breaths heaved despite efforts.
Hot tears spilled down my cheek against my will.
Once started, they burst like a dam.
Pent-up grief, rage, shame poured out in sobs.
Shoulders shook in silent cries.
First time breaking down like this.
Not in twenty years of rejection since birth, nor at twenty dragged here for torment.
I'd never cried this way.
Nellin asked nothing.
Just stayed quietly by my side until I calmed.
In her silent comfort, exhausted, I fell asleep.