Episode 9
“My grandfather ignored him, though. Said he wasn’t trustworthy.”
“Why are you trying to find him?”
“Because he’s the real deal.”
Lanzé didn’t bother making a clumsy excuse.
She had realized long ago she wasn’t good at lying—and this time, even coming up with something plausible felt impossible.
The truth was, Lanzé had learned about that doctor in a future far removed from this moment.
It was before she returned to being sixteen.
Just before being deployed to a new front, she’d been summoned to the capital by central command.
“You’re Erna Swanhild’s sister, aren’t you?”
At the time, the doctor was affiliated with the Central Command.
“And you are?”
“Name’s not worth much—let’s just go with Carl.”
Carl was one of the developers of the stimulant that boosted mage operation efficiency.
Lanzé hadn’t recognized him at first, but his outfit clearly marked him as part of a research lab, so she wasn’t surprised. What unsettled her was that he brought up her dead relative.
Few people knew Erna by name unless they were familiar with the count’s household. If she were still alive, she would’ve been known as Lanzé Swanhild’s sister, not the other way around.
“So, what do you want from me?”
The doctor stared at her for a long moment. Then, what he said next was rude and baffling.
“You look incredibly healthy.”
“That’s not really something to say like you regret it.”
“Ah… sorry. I once wanted to study Erna’s illness, you see.”
Judging by how he brought it up, it was clear the idea still lingered in his mind.
“Erna? I thought you were working on stimulants.”
“Erna had a congenital mana disorder. She couldn’t output magic normally and had to use up her stamina just to function. Then, suddenly, her mana would surge past safe limits, causing seizures.”
That was the first time Lanzé had ever heard the exact details of Erna’s illness.
The symptoms weren’t unfamiliar, and she couldn’t hide her shock.
‘That sounds just like…’
It was nearly identical to what overworked mages experienced.
The moment Lanzé’s eyes showed she understood, the doctor gave a bitter smile.
“I never got authorization back then, so it stayed a proposal. But if I’d had a chance to test it on Erna, we might’ve developed a safer final product.”
“…And she might’ve lived longer.”
“That’s just speculation now. We’ll never know.”
Lanzé became certain the count had made the wrong choice.
Maybe the doctor read her thoughts from her face, because he suddenly defended her grandfather.
“I was a nobody back then, and I was based in Farrell. Of course he ignored me.”
When Lanzé didn’t seem convinced, the doctor changed the topic.
“Are you taking the drug yourself?”
“Sometimes. The stabilizer, at least.”
“Just between us, I’d advise avoiding the government-issued kind if you can.”
But it wasn’t something you could easily stop taking just because someone warned you.
Rumors about dangerous ingredients and side effects were already widespread. Mages either died in combat or relied on mysterious drugs that burned their future lifespan—most people simply chose the option with a higher survival rate.
The conversation hadn’t left much of an impression at the time, so Lanzé had forgotten the doctor for a long while.
But once she returned to the past and resolved to take Erna with her, the memory came back.
“…So you’re saying this guy can really treat me? Is there actual evidence?”
Lanzé snapped out of her reverie.
For some reason, Erna was trembling.
Come to think of it, Lanzé had never properly explained things after confidently dragging her along.
‘You never asked.’
She scratched her neck sheepishly and answered vaguely.
“He just seemed reliable to me.”
“That’s not what I’d call solid evidence.”
Lennart’s snide remark was annoying, but Lanzé only grumbled inwardly.
‘No other doctor helped, anyway.’
In the original timeline, Erna had died young. Meanwhile, Carl of Farrell—who the count hadn’t even given a chance—had developed medicine useful to mages and had at least a sliver of a conscience.
As Lanzé and Lennart exchanged sharp looks, Erna suddenly spoke.
“Honestly, Lanzé, I don’t even care if you’re acting weird.”
She could no longer hold back the resentment she’d bottled up.
“But Grandfather… he never once told me someone like that even existed. You knew, and yet…”
Strictly speaking, the count had never shared that information. Lanzé wisely kept her mouth shut.
‘There are enough reasons to resent me already.’
Erna’s breathing grew more ragged.
“It’s my illness. My problem. But my opinion has never mattered—not once.”
She looked at her sister.
Lanzé might do things her own way, but at least she made an effort to ask about the important stuff.
“No one has ever asked what I wanted. Not once…”
Now that she’d been tossed aside and brought this far, she couldn’t help but reevaluate her grandfather. Clenching her fists, she declared,
“So this time, I’ll decide. I’ll see that man with my own eyes and judge for myself.”
Lanzé nodded absentmindedly. Lennart, watching Erna seethe with an intensity bordering on dangerous, sighed inwardly.
He still thought it best to talk them out of this risky journey—but neither seemed willing to listen.
Lanzé was already convinced from a single conversation. Erna hadn’t unclenched her fists yet.
‘Looks like I’ll have to go with them.’
If he were truly the adult he fancied himself to be, he might’ve scolded them and dragged them back.
But sixteen or eighteen—there wasn’t much difference in maturity between them. And so, the three of them resumed walking.
They traveled to Farrell by stagecoach.
They’d heard rumors of bandits along the quieter roads, and both the coachman and courier carried guns—but in the end, they arrived without incident.
Erna, drained from motion sickness, had calmed down somewhat.
She was still woozy, and because they’d been moving slowly to match her pace—and their search hadn’t yielded much—they had little to show for the day.
Lanzé had plenty of information: name, physical traits, etc. But Farrell was a complicated city.
Asking random strangers if they knew a doctor by that name was bound to turn up little.
They’d been referred to one person—but he was a middle-aged man named “Karl.”
From his clinic and the guide’s opinion, he was barely more competent than a quack. The only connection was the similar name.
Eventually, they had to venture all the way to the market near the harbor.
“…You’re sure you remember the name right?” Lennart asked as they approached the tent-lined stalls.
“As if I’d mix up something like ‘Carl.’”
Lanzé knew her memory wasn’t great, but she was certain about this one. She pouted.
“I don’t mean you got it wrong.”
“Then?”
“There are plenty of people who use fake names—especially in a place like this.”
That alone was enough for Lanzé to realize she’d been thinking too narrowly.
“He might’ve introduced himself under that name to me, but there’s no guarantee he’s using it here. We probably can’t find him in just a day or two.”
Lanzé looked toward the bustling market entrance.
“For now, let’s get some dinner and think it over.”
Before they could protest, she was already weaving through the crowd.
Lennart had to figure out how to follow with the worn-out Erna in tow—but before he could move, Lanzé was back.
She returned holding a pointed skewer with an unidentifiable grilled fish and a suspicious-looking drink.
“I made sure they weren’t messing with the food. It’s safe to eat.”
Erna bit her lip. She’d never seen a fish with its head still on except in textbooks or aquariums.
“We’re supposed to eat it like this?”
She’d tried to get used to rough travel food, but this was on another level.
“You can eat the bones, too. Just chew well.”
Lanzé demonstrated by biting off the fish’s head.
Erna couldn’t bring herself to do the same, so she reluctantly tore into the body.
Lennart didn’t regret tagging along—but he did voice his displeasure about the menu.
“Wasn’t there something easier to eat?”
“Sure, but we have to be careful about food on the road. What if it’s drugged?”
Lanzé would’ve preferred to consider everyone’s preferences, but in a place like this, all sorts of substances were in circulation. Naturally, they were also used in crimes. Only food made from recognizable ingredients and cooked in front of you was safe.
“…Fair enough. Better safe than sorry.”
Lennart accepted her logic.
That didn’t mean he was going to eat it, though. He opted to skip the meal and handed his portion to Lanzé.
Erna, meanwhile, was still struggling. At lunch, her table manners had been impeccable—but now her face and hands were a mess from picking through the bones.
Lennart handed her a handkerchief and turned to Lanzé.
“It’s too soon to give up, but… have you thought about what to do if we can’t find him? Got a plan?”
“Hmm, I guess I’ll just do what I originally intended.”
“Originally?”
“I told you—I’ll head to the capital and start preparing for school early.”
“That wasn’t a joke?”
Lanzé nodded firmly. When she’d first said that to Lennart, it was mostly a convenient excuse.
Meeting the doctor had been her top priority, so going to the capital seemed meaningless now. But Lanzé didn’t know any other kind of life. And at school, she could become Lennart’s partner again.
‘No way I’m letting that former partner of his anywhere near him.’
Lennart gave her a skeptical look. Lanzé met it head-on.
But before their silent standoff could go further, something interrupted them.
BOOM!
The sound was like thunder. The ground shook with it.
“What the hell?!”
While Erna cowered in fear, Lanzé and Lennart turned their heads toward the source of the explosion.
Smoke and flames were rising from the far end of the market.
This is the first time I’ve seen a situation where the “fake” and the “real” daughters team up and ditch their crappy family together. I love it so much.