Chapter 36
After Saren left, I wrote a letter to Luni.
I enclosed the Charan flower I’d received as my prize, along with instructions on how to make the antidote.
While Luni was busy treating patients, my successor training began in earnest.
The lessons on monsters were easy.
Strategy wasn’t that hard either.
But history and philosophy… those were truly difficult.
So this is why early education is important.
I’d learned plenty about monsters thanks to the Evil Dragon and Regan, but I hadn’t studied history or philosophy—and now it was coming back to bite me.
Just listening to the lectures made me sleepy. I started suspecting my teacher might have been secretly slipping sleeping powder into the lessons.
Thanks to that, I ended up with extra homework today.
“Describe the achievements of the first founding emperor. Now… what were they again…”
I was groaning and clawing at my book in frustration when Duke Clasta suddenly appeared.
“Daughter, what are you doing?”
“Homework.”
“Ah, homework. I heard you’ve been studying lately—you seem to be working hard.”
If I’m going to live as an heir, I have to.
“This part’s wrong.”
“Really? Where?”
“Here. Creating the new calendar wasn’t the first emperor’s achievement—it was the third emperor’s.”
The duke pointed to the line I’d written.
“How do you know that without even looking at the book?”
“Because I learned it all back in the day.”
“And you still remember? Were you a good student?”
“Me? Not especially.”
He replied casually.
“I only graduated top of my class from the Empire’s top university.”
…That is doing well.
He caught my stare and burst out laughing.
“Daughter, you’re looking at me like I’m terrifying.”
“No, not really.”
“It’s easier to remember the first emperor’s name by just taking the first letters. And each achievement is tied to something they liked…”
His explanation was much easier to understand than my teacher’s.
“So, what’s the third emperor’s name?”
“Betallitola!”
“That’s right!”
The duke laughed heartily and ruffled my hair.
“Whose daughter is this? My daughter is a swordsmanship genius, a study genius—she’s perfect.”
“I didn’t get it right away though.”
“Well, what can you do if you weren’t interested? The history of the imperial family is a bit dull anyway.”
Why are you so stupid?
Regan’s voice overlapped with the duke’s in my mind.
It’s fine. The duke doesn’t get angry for being stupid.
The duke studied my expression and then said,
“Alright, let’s have a snack. Studying’s important, but my daughter is still young, so eating well is important too.”
He took me to his room, cut up an apple for me, and brought over cookies and candy from the table.
At some point, the duke’s room, once filled only with documents, had begun accumulating snacks of all kinds.
As I ate the apple, I remembered the contents of the letter I’d sent Luni.
Come to think of it, I also need to decide what the trading company will sell.
I had plenty of ideas, but no clue where to start.
“Want me to cut you another?”
Just then, an urgent knock sounded.
The duke clicked his tongue in annoyance before replying,
“Come in.”
“Master! A letter from the Holy See!”
At Orwell’s words, I stopped mid-bite and looked at him.
…The Holy See?
The unexpected name made me freeze.
I glanced at the duke.
If he gave me a look, I’d leave—but since the letter was from the Holy See, where Regan was, I wanted to hear what it said.
“So, Ariel, do you want another apple?”
Fortunately, the duke didn’t seem to care whether I listened or not.
I nodded, and Orwell spoke again, almost spitting fire.
“Those bastards have lost their minds! Shouldn’t a religious order live with some integrity?”
The duke made bunny ears with his fingers and asked,
“Why?”
“They’re raising the price of Bechtol powder!”
They’re raising the price of Bechtol powder?
Bechtol powder was highly effective at keeping small monsters away.
The problem was, only the Holy See knew how to make it.
People had no choice but to buy it to protect their lands from monsters, which made the Holy See a fortune.
I set down my apple and focused on the conversation.
“I was wondering why they’d been so quiet this year. This isn’t the first time they’ve claimed raw material costs have gone up, or labor’s gotten expensive, to justify a price hike.”
“Sure, they’ve done it before, but this time’s excessive.”
“How much did they raise it?”
“They’re doubling the price.”
“They’ve gone completely mad for money.”
“At this point, it’d be cheaper to just station soldiers in every village.”
The duke drummed his fingers on the armrest, frowning.
“Still, we’ll have to buy it. Without it, small villages can’t defend against monster attacks.”
“Sure, we’re fine financially, but what about everyone else? Without Bechtol powder, a lot of people will fall victim to monsters. Isn’t it insane? Priests playing money games with people’s lives.”
The duke was right—small villages didn’t have many people who could fight monsters.
They needed Bechtol powder.
Even large villages weren’t safe.
Fighting monsters, even small ones, wasn’t easy.
As the two discussed budget concerns with grim faces, I felt my irritation grow.
It’s not even something they discovered themselves.
Officially, the formula for Bechtol powder was discovered by the current pope, Regan.
But if you asked where it really came from…
The Evil Dragon’s lab, of course.
I thought of my birth father—the Evil Dragon—I’d tried so hard to forget.
The man who opened the Door of Darkness and killed more than ten thousand people, the most heinous criminal in history.
And at the same time, the most brilliant mage in history.
He created magical devices like vision stones and communication stones, and studied monster weaknesses so people could live more safely.
People once admired and respected him.
Then, one day, he opened the Door of Darkness and plunged the continent into ruin.
The sense of betrayal and despair people felt then was beyond words.
So it’s no wonder people hate me.
Even after opening the Door, the Evil Dragon continued experiments in labs scattered across the continent.
I’d found the Bechtol powder processing method in one of his labs.
And I’d given it to Regan.
Thanks. Thanks to you, more people will be able to survive.
I remembered Regan’s kind smile.
Of course, he then went and told everyone he’d discovered it himself.
Back then, I thought it was fine.
If Regan did well, I would do well.
But I never thought he’d pretend to care about people’s lives while selling it at such outrageous prices.
Knowing the formula myself, I couldn’t help but wonder if they’d mixed gold dust into it at this rate.
I could make it for less than ten percent of that price.
Then a thought came to me.
Wait. I know the formula—why don’t I just make it and sell it myself?
I needed money, and Bechtol powder was essential for monster defense.
Even if I sold it at a much lower price, I’d make far more than by running in tournaments for prize money.
And I could deal Regan a blow, too.
If sales dropped, the Holy See’s income would fall.
First, I’ll need to find an apothecary who can make it.
I took Swell and headed out of the mansion.
Hopefully I can find someone trustworthy.
I went straight to the back alley where the apothecaries gathered.
The street was gloomy despite it being daytime, shrouded in shadows.
Graffiti covered the walls, and trash littered the ground.
Some thugs smoking in an alleyway made eye contact with me, but with Swell beside me, they didn’t cause trouble.
I went to see the person Luni had recommended, but unfortunately, he’d already signed a contract with someone else.
Where am I going to find a good person now…
Swell and I sat in a nearby café as I thought.
“You look tired, my lady. Shall I carry you back?”
“No, I’m fine.”
When I waved my hand fan, Swell asked again,
“Would you like me to fan you?”
“I said I’m fine.”
I’d gotten pretty used to his overly polite attitude.
I sipped my lemonade, then noticed a strange man.
Carrying a bundle of papers, he kept clinging to passersby.
Even when they refused or spat at him, he didn’t give up, clinging persistently.
Sometimes he even shoved papers into people’s pockets.
A passing thug snatched his papers, laughed, and scattered them on the ground.
The man knelt and carefully picked them up one by one.
The thug stomped on them and shook ash from his cigarette over the pile.
Swell noticed my gaze.
“My lady, what is it?”
“I’m curious what that man is doing.”
“He looks a bit unhinged to me.”
Just then, the café owner passing by said,
“Ah, that man. Not something a fine young lady should worry about.”
“What happened?”
“His name’s Rahad. He used to be a pretty skilled apothecary around here. But about half a year ago, his daughter went missing. After that, he lost his mind… closed his shop and now spends every day searching for her. I understand his grief, but… how’s he going to find someone who’s gone?”
When we left the café, Rahad approached Swell and me, bowing.
“Sirs, you’re nobles, aren’t you? Please, I beg you—help me find my daughter.”
In the summer heat, Rahad’s face was flushed red.
The flyer he held described his daughter’s appearance, written in heavy, pressed strokes—clearly his own handwriting.
On the way home, I asked Swell,
“You can’t find someone who’s gone missing, can you?”
“After half a year, it’s far too late. I checked—apparently the capital’s knights have already closed the investigation.”
“I see.”
For some reason, my heart felt heavy.
The next day, I secretly headed back to the alleys.
