Disciple in Name, Slave in Truth
Bubble, bubble. White liquid boiled inside the pot. I stirred the steaming, bubbling liquid with a stick, watching the steam rise. "Almost done." My eyes gleamed with white-hot determination as I carefully adjusted the flame, not missing a single detail. This was crucial work. The decisive moment right before potion completion! I couldn't afford to lose focus even at the very end.
"Just add the white powder and stir a little more..." After dumping in the white powder, I drew circles with the stick at a steady pace. At the same time, I chanted the magic incantation. "Gipaka Yekatai... Gipaka Yekatai..."
Four years had passed since I'd followed the old mage—my so-called master, Altrong. Plenty of time for a street beggar to grow into a low-level mage. Yet I still couldn't even make a basic potion. Forget potions; I remained an ordinary person who didn't know the first thing about magic. Of course I didn't. 'Because I've never been taught magic!'
If only I'd actually been making potions. Unfortunately, the thick liquid simmering in the pot like bone broth wasn't a potion at all. It was food. Morning stew for the great and mighty Master Altrong to graciously consume. Slurp. I ladled some stew to taste, then reached for the white powder beside me. No, salt. I added another pinch. 'Should I just dump the whole thing in?' The urge to turn the stew into saltwater surged, but if I acted on it, I'd definitely get a taste of Altrong's staff-powered smack.
"Gipaka Yekatai, you cranky old geezer..." Adding a dash of warm affection to the incantation made it truly perfect. Just then, the kitchen door burst open. Bang!
The uninvited guest that stormed into the kitchen was none other than a staff. The long staff flew straight through the air and delivered a sharp flick right to the center of my forehead. Crack!
"Gah!" My head snapped back, and I toppled over, landing hard on my rear. The first thought that flashed through my mind was—'Crack? Why did it sound like a bowl breaking?' Did my skull just shatter? I frantically checked my head with both hands. Thankfully it was intact, but the real problem was the delayed pain that came rushing in a beat later. It hurt! It hurt like hell! The aftertaste was even worse. That damn old man's staff flick didn't just hurt on impact—the pain spread afterward with terrifying intensity. If there were a kingdom-wide staff-flicking championship, he'd take first place without question.
"Ow, that hurts! I thought my head was splitting open!" I shouted, rubbing my forehead and scalp furiously. When I stood up, Altrong had already entered the kitchen and was retrieving his staff, clicking his tongue in disapproval.
"Making such a fuss over nothing."
"Why'd you hit someone who's just quietly cooking?!"
"Why'd I hit you~? Why'd I hit you~? You really don't know?" There it was again—Altrong's signature sarcastic tone. "Can't you see the sun's high in the sky? What time is it, and you're still messing around making breakfast?"
"What do you mean the sun's high? It's barely past seven in the morning!"
"Who said you could talk back? You should be setting your master's table on time. Here I am, your heaven-like master, on the verge of collapsing from hunger, while you cook so leisurely and relaxed~. Huh?"
Altrong was the type who absolutely had to eat breakfast at exactly seven in the morning. If all three meals weren't served precisely on time, he'd get prickly. Even a one-second delay felt like the world was ending. And sure enough, five minutes late had caused this uproar.
"Someone claiming they're about to collapse still had enough energy to come to the kitchen and hit their disciple!"
"What did you say?" Thwack! Altrong, furious, brought his staff down on my crown. "Aagh!" Spicy. Sour. Stinging. It even sounded like a drumbeat. Being able to produce dozens of different pain sensations with a single flick was so very Altrong. Even a thirty-one-flavor ice cream brand would bow to that kind of variety.
"Stop hitting me already! Instead of researching magic, are you researching how to flick people?! Did you learn magic just to smack me with your staff?"
"You get hit because you deserve to be hit!"
"It was only five minutes late. Five minutes! You think I was late on purpose? It's because you kept nagging me at the crack of dawn about wanting a bath! I nearly threw out my back hauling water to fill the tub!"
Hmph. Some master. Never teaching magic, just using me for labor, and still shamelessly acting superior. 'A shady employer guilty of child labor exploitation and child abuse!'
The day I first met Altrong four years ago—that was the first and last time he ever showed me any kindness. Since then, he'd never once taught me magic. At first, I thought it was because I wasn't ready yet. That he was testing my patience and character, observing me over time. So I waited quietly. But the next year, and the year after that, nothing changed. Only then could I finally face the truth I'd been ignoring. Altrong had never intended to teach me magic in the first place. He'd deliberately approached what looked like an easy target—a beggar child—with a plan to lure me in with the sweet title of magic disciple. 'He just wanted a slave to do his chores.' While looking for some naive fool to enslave, he'd found me and scooped me up. 'A con artist! Scamming an innocent, weak child!' It was vicious and cunning. Thinking back to that moment four years ago when I'd been tricked by the con artist old man made my blood boil. The rage would surge, only to be followed by hollow disbelief, and a sigh would escape me. 'Some fateful encounter. What a joke.' Damn it.
"Oh, look at this little punk!"
"Oh, look at this little punk you left in charge of your food? Always going on about meals, meals, meals."
"How dare you talk back again!"
"Yes, this little punk who's talking back will bring you the stew right away, so please just leave."
"Ahem!" The mention of food seemed to calm him down. Altrong twisted his lips in displeasure, then spun around like a sulking girl and left. Of course, he didn't forget to deliver one last shady-employer remark on his way out.
"After you set the table, harvest the crops and deliver them to the market. Don't forget to buy a chocolate cake on your way back! If you slack off again, I'll beat you senseless, so don't even think about it!"
Who's the lazy one here? Sitting around like some noble lady eating cake while barking orders. "Anyway..." I sighed and looked out the window. Beyond the glass stretched a large field planted with potatoes, carrots, radishes, and tomatoes. "When am I supposed to harvest all that?"
Altrong and I, living in this remote mountain valley, made our living by farming and selling crops at the market. Of course, the "farming" part excluded Altrong. Plowing the field, planting seeds, watering, and carefully tending the crops—every bit of farm work had always been my responsibility. Thanks to that, I'd reached a level where I could work the fields with my eyes closed. Exaggerating only slightly, I was confident I could swing a pickaxe with my toes. 'So busy. Even ten bodies wouldn't be enough.' If only I could use clone magic to make copies of myself to handle the work. Preparing wash water, cooking, washing dishes, farming, cleaning, laundry. That was just the main tasks. Adding Altrong's random errands and taking care of the donkey in between, I was constantly running around without a moment to breathe. Plus, I had to chop firewood on weekends. If we ran out of ingredients or supplies, I had to go shopping. And Altrong's favorite snack, chocolate cake, had to be bought and delivered every three days without fail. A whole day would vanish just from waiting on Altrong hand and foot. Four years had passed like that. 'If I'd at least learned magic, it wouldn't feel so unfair.'
"Let's just make the food already." I pushed the thoughts aside and carried the stew out in bowls.
* * *
By the time I returned from delivering the harvested crops to the market, nearly half the day had passed. After handing over the payment and the chocolate cake to Altrong, I quietly slipped out of the house and headed back into the forest. 'Still some time before I need to prepare dinner.' Then maybe I should head to the hut. It had been a while since I'd had this sweet break time! My body was exhausted, but dopamine surged in my brain at the thought of finally having some personal time.
Following the forest path filled with the scent of fresh grass, I soon spotted a small cabin sitting alone in a clearing like a deserted island. My personal study café. It had been an abandoned ruin that I'd discovered by chance long ago, cleaned up, and turned into my private hideout. Whenever I had a spare moment, I'd come here to read magic books and secretly study magic. 'What choice do I have? Since there's no way to learn magic properly, I have to teach myself.'
I did have a room in the house I shared with Altrong. But since he was the owner, it never felt comfortable. Even resting didn't feel like resting. "Finally, I can breathe." Just seeing the hut made the tension that had gripped me all day melt away, replaced by a gentle wave of relief and comfort spreading through my chest.
This place meant more to me than just a private retreat. In this fantasy otherworld where I had no one to rely on, it was the fence that sheltered my lonely, sorrowful heart. The only sanctuary that brought comfort just by existing. My true home. My world.
"Smells nice out here." I hummed as I opened the door. Creak. I hadn't known. That an intruder had entered my world.
"What the—" The moment I stepped inside, I was startled. A girl I'd never seen before was fast asleep on the bed, wrapped head to toe in a blanket like a newborn in swaddling clothes. "Mmmph. Mmmph." Orange hair tied in pigtails. A round head poking out from under the blanket. Plump cheeks like baby potatoes. A petite frame. Thirteen years old at most? 'Where did this kid roll in from?'
This barony wasn't exactly the middle of nowhere, but it was modest enough that a scandalous affair would spread in three days and fizzle out just as fast. I knew the faces and names of most kids in the village below. But this girl—'I've never seen her before.' Not a local. Maybe a runaway from another territory. Occasionally, boys and girls from other lands would wander in. Kids who'd read heroic tales of legendary warriors and mages, gotten all fired up, and run away from home shouting, "I'll become a great warrior too!" Someone might ask if that was even possible in a dangerous fantasy world crawling with monsters and bandits, but such kids did exist. The type who lived and died by romantic delusions, full of that "pung" spirit. 'This one's got it bad.'
My eyes shifted to the girl's side. Beside the head poking out from under the blanket lay a thick book titled The Tumultuous Travels of a Runaway Archmage, flipped open. She looked like a girl who'd read some archmage's wandering tale, gotten drunk on mage fantasies, and run away from home.
"Hey." I crossed my arms and called out to the runaway kid.