Chapter 19
I definitely used a teleport scroll, but I was still standing in the tart shop — and the gang who’d been cursing at me were still staring blankly.
What the hell is going on here? Hey, Mr. Scroll? Snap out of it. I need to teleport right now. Hello? What is this…?
I looked down at the scroll in my hand, my face unable to hide my panic.
The high-grade scroll I paid dozens of gold for was now ridiculously pretending to be just an ordinary piece of paper.
Wait, what? Are you serious? Is this… defective? For real? Truly defective? Are you telling me I just ripped a Chinese knockoff scroll?
The gangsters had even paused their stream of profanity and were now silently staring at me.
They watched as I stood there dumbly holding the torn paper, and then began whispering among themselves, apparently sensing something.
“Tsk tsk…”
“Looks like she’s seriously ill.”
“Yeah, not just anyone can pull off a corpse act like that.”
“Was there a facility nearby or something?”
“…”
My blood pressure. My money. My cool. My glorious exit…
I never imagined things would go like this. A defective scroll?! How could this happen?
If I’d bought the scroll from some rando I didn’t know, I’d definitely suspect I’d been scammed.
But I bought it from my regular place. A reputable shop I’ve been going to for ages.
Which means… the scroll really was defective. I can’t believe I’m smelling cheap Chinese knockoff energy even inside a fantasy novel.
Anyway, with things like this, I needed a different plan.
The easiest would be to just pull out another teleport scroll and rip it. The problem was, I only had one scroll set to teleport me near the viscount’s manor. The one I just used.
The rest were either bound for the plaza or some random ones I picked up by luck.
Oh, right. Come to think of it, I don’t even know where that long-distance scroll is set to. Where is it?
“Poor thing’s clearly out of it, but she still needs a beating.”
“Yeah. Who does she think she is, making fools out of us?”
“She’s going to pay for making us look like idiots, that bitch.”
The gangsters, done with their pity-party, were now shifting back into full-on murder mode. Looked like they were ready to pounce any second.
Well, I had no choice.
Honestly, I’d love to lure them outside and go wild with my attack spells — but without a way to actually get them outside, I had to hold back.
I reached into my clothes to pull out another teleport scroll.
“What’s she doing now?”
“Whatever. I’ll punch her and drag her out!”
Gasp!
One of them, fist clenched, started storming toward me.
I’ll say it again — the shop is tiny. It only took a second for him to close the distance, and I didn’t even have time to check which scroll I grabbed. I just ripped the first thing I touched.
Ugh, you heartless jerk! Other villains at least wait while the hero transforms — you can’t give me ten seconds?!
Rip.
“…?!”
Looks like I ripped the right one. A bright light wrapped around me, and the scene in front of me started to blur.
Oh, right. I forgot to yell an insult on my way out.
“You son of a bii—”
Whoosh.
“Oh, gods!”
Ugh, what a waste…
I clutched my pounding head and clicked my tongue.
Cut off mid-curse. What a shame.
Anyway… where am I now?
The scroll I hastily tore wasn’t the plaza scroll. This place wasn’t even slightly familiar.
It felt like private property — wide open land with a strange sense of someone else’s turf — and right in front of me stood a tower… a tower?
I looked down at the now-useless scroll in my hand.
That scroll I picked up earlier — it did say long-distance teleport. I didn’t think it would be this long-distance… My god. It really was far.
I looked forward again.
Isn’t that… a mage tower?
A massive cylindrical structure surrounded by black walls loomed ahead.
It was insanely tall. Not just from here — even if I backed up a few more steps, I still wouldn’t be able to see the top.
In the Flower of the Beast universe, if a tower looks this dramatic, there’s a 90% chance it’s a mage tower.
I wouldn’t bet my hand on it… but I’d bet at least nine fingers.
“Hmmm.”
So now what? Should I just treat this like a sightseeing trip, take a lap around it, and then go home?
If I remember my maps right, it takes about three days and nights by carriage to get back to the viscount’s manor from here.
In this situation, the smart thing would be to use the scroll that teleports to the plaza — not resign myself to becoming one with a carriage seat.
Sigh… my poor money… Okay, fine, it wasn’t that hard-earned, but still. It was precious.
Wait. Hold on a sec.
A sudden thought crossed my mind, and I furrowed my brow.
All those scrolls I’ve been using like candy — weren’t they all made by the mage tower? Yeah. Yeah, that’s right.
Magic scrolls were exclusively produced and distributed by the mage tower. The shops just sold them.
Which means — if a scroll was defective, that’s their responsibility.
“Oh, perfect!”
This was great. Since I was already here, I might as well explain the situation and demand compensation for the scroll. As a paying customer, asserting this much is only fair.
I walked up to the tower entrance. Unlike a wealthy noble’s mansion or the imperial castle, there were no guards stationed outside.
In the eerily empty space, I raised my hand in front of the black door.
Let’s see, do I knock?
“We have a guest.”
Before I could even touch it, the door slid open with a soft srrrrng.
Not a creak but a srrrrng—ah, it’s a stone door, not a wooden one.
Through the now-open doorway, I made eye contact with an elderly man, his white hair flowing.
My eyes widened in surprise.
Was he a movie actor? You know, that wizard grandpa from that fantasy movie where the world almost ended because of a ring.
The Gandalf lookalike gave me a warm smile and spoke again.
“What brings you here?”
His voice radiated wisdom and kindness as he asked why I had come.
Despite it being our first meeting, the Gandalf Grandpa felt oddly familiar, and I calmly explained my reason for visiting. It wasn’t a long story.
I thought I was buying a locally made product, but turns out it was made in China. Please investigate.
Of course, I didn’t say it like that. Still, I conveyed my injustice, and handed over the torn scroll as evidence.
Holding the ripped scroll, he looked contemplative for a moment, then invited me inside.
“It doesn’t seem like an issue that can be resolved immediately. Please, come in.”
And just like that, I followed Gandalf—not on a ring-bearing quest, but into the mage tower.
I already had a feeling this wouldn’t be as simple as exchanging overripe fruit.
The price of the scroll wasn’t cheap, and they had to consider the possibility that I was lying.
Of course, I wasn’t. But it wouldn’t be surprising if others had tried to scam them like this.
I resisted the urge to gawk like a tourist and quietly followed him to the drawing room, where Gandalf gestured for me to sit.
When I looked down at the chair he offered, I was momentarily blinded.
…?
Not a metaphor. Actually blinded. The cushion was imported silk, the trim looked like gold, and the decorative accents were freaking diamonds.
What the heck is this? This isn’t a chair. This is The Chair. Capitalized.
I hesitated, then gingerly sat down on The Chair™ that reeked of luxury.
………
This isn’t furniture. This is science.
As I marveled at the sheer comfort beneath me, Gandalf finally spoke again.
“You mentioned that the scroll you used today failed to activate, yes?”
“Ah, yes.”
Here we go.
I nodded. If needed, I was fully prepared to put on a one-woman play, reenacting the whole incident with vivid expressions and gestures.
I had complete confidence in conveying my psychological trauma through interpretive movement.
But Gandalf, being reasonable, simply continued with different words—instead of saying, “Please, show me.”
“I’m sorry, but you may need to wait a bit. Usually, the tower master is the one who reviews these matters personally, but they’re currently away… I’ll contact them right away, so it shouldn’t take—”
“Wait, the tower master?”
I interrupted, stunned. That was the last thing I expected to hear.
The tower master is the one who reviews these things?
Unless Gandalf here is living a double life, the only tower master he could mean is the Archmage of the tower.
Which means… Arwyn.
Arwyn has to personally come here?
“Is that… normal? For the tower master to come in person?”
<Shop Owner Ending>
※This has nothing to do with the main plot. Extreme nonsense warning!
Rip!
“……”
“……”
“…Huh?”
Nothing changed.
That doesn’t make sense. I ripped the scroll, but no magic activated. What the heck is going on?
And then—
Amid my confusion and the gangsters’ bewilderment, a sudden burst of laughter interrupted the silence.
A clear, ringing laugh echoed in all our ears.
“Ahahaha!”
“…?”
“S-Sweetie?”
The shop lady?
Just moments ago, she had been trembling at the gang’s threatening demeanor. But now she was laughing, shoulders shaking.
Her cheerful, loud laugh didn’t match the delicate figure she had shown earlier at all.
She looked… satisfied.
“Ah, it worked. I was a little worried—it’s been a while since I used magic.”
“Wha…?”
“I wanted to see how things played out, but trying to run away? That won’t do.”
Her gaze was fixed directly on me.
Wait. So what she’s saying is… my scroll didn’t work because of her?
She used some sort of nullification magic to block my teleport? Is that it?
But the real shock was yet to come.
“I wanted to stay low, but oh well, guess I have no choice.”
Whoosh.
“…?!”
“!!”
“Oh my god!”
The shop lady took off her wig. The luxurious long hair was gone, revealing a man’s short haircut underneath.
No way… She—wasn’t a she?!
“Sweeeetieeee!!!”
One of the gangster goons, the hopeless romantic, fell to his knees in tears.
Even I felt my heart crack at the sight of his despair.
The shopkeeper had now stripped off his blouse, revealing a fully male physique.
Well-toned muscles, firm and defined—the scent of pure man wafted off him.
“G-Good lord!”
“She took off a wig and her shoulders got wider?!”
“She took off a wig and got taller!?”
“S…sweetie… thud.”
In the midst of this total chaos, only the shopkeeper remained calm, wearing a serene smile.
He casually glanced over the destruction he had caused, then looked at me. Our eyes met, and he smiled warmly.
“You devoured those tarts like your life depended on it. In that little body of yours. Must’ve been really tasty, huh? That’s when I started liking you.”
“…?!”
Excuse me, what?!
As it turns out, the cross-dressing shopkeeper was a hundred-year-old magical genius—complete with reverse aging powers. Since when did Flower of the Beast start sharing a universe with wuxia?
Though his face and body were young, his true age had long since qualified him for a coffin. And now, for some ridiculous reason, he’d decided he liked me.
The worst part? I had no power to stop him.
No one could oppose the greatest magical genius of the century.
Well, there were some people who could. Three fish. But naturally, none of them came to help me. They probably didn’t even know this was happening.
Sob. You traitors.
And just like that, I married the genius old wizard I met at the tart shop.
Well… at least he’s hot.
<The End>
Thank you for loving Supporting Role Extra Lady On Tour.
