Free Isekai Reproduction Life with an Endangered Demi-Human Onee-san in the Forest of Certain Death ~My Mental Stat Is Pathetically Weak, But After Transferring, I’ll Live for Myself This Time~ - Chapter 121: Bright Home Plan: Negotiation Edition

Chapter 121: Bright Home Plan: Negotiation Edition

“Alright, let’s have you bring it out here.”

We’re led to a massive warehouse-like space. Seems empty—everyone’s out, maybe?

Better confirm one thing first.

“Like I said, the magic bag’s a secret. Can you keep it hush?”

“If this is legit, we’ll seal it with contract magic, so relax,” Dolgan says with a jab, chikuri. “Didn’t expect it to come to this, eh?”

Oh, you’re on. Let’s do this.

Contract magic—like what Django-san used on the slaves, right? That’s reassuring.

“Got it. I’ll bring it out. Stay back. Bestelta, hold the bag?”

“Sure thing.”

I plunge both hands into the bag she’s holding, grabbing the timber. Well, more like willing it out.

Zuoouoon! Doshin!

From the bag, like a four-dimensional pocket, I pull out physically impossible-sized timber and set it on the ground. It makes a loud thud.

Zuoouoon! Doshin! Zuoouoon! Doshin! Doshin!

I repeat, stacking a mountain of timber in the warehouse.

“…”

Dolgan stares at the timber, dumbfounded.

“So, believe me now?”

Huff huff huff. Bet he’s shocked I lifted those huge logs so easily. Muscle flex, success! He must trust the bag thing too.

“Wh-Wh-What…”

Dolgan trembles, approaching the timber.

“What are these timbers?! Too high-quality!!”

Wait, that’s the issue? Oh no, he’s rubbing his cheek on them. I’m creeped out…

*

“Sorry, got carried away.”

I calm the excited Dolgan down, somehow.

“So, do you believe me?”

“Of course! And sorry for doubting you. Forgive me.”

He bows deeply, gaba. So low, it’s awkward. I wanted to stun him, but this humility makes me feel small. My pettiness is showing.

“No worries. Is the timber really that high-quality?”

Forest of Certain Death timber, huh.

I never thought much of it. But it’s from the Forest, so it makes sense. Shurea’s talk about those powerful, moving trees was wild—they moved like heavy machinery but never broke. Like Frebe, Brasa, and Dumboar materials, it’s valuable.

“Obviously! You don’t get its worth?! These are the lost ancient Rakool trees!”

…Rakool trees? First I’m hearing of it.

“Really?”

“Aye! Look at this sheen, this weight… and it’s imbued with no small amount of mana. Iron-hard yet flexible. Probably fire-resistant too. To think I’d see the real thing in my lifetime…”

Dolgan fondles the timber with creepy hands. The wood seems to recoil—Wise Tree Magic vibes, maybe?

“Dolgan-san, that’s not your timber.”

“Oh, right. Sorry.”

He pulls back, and the wood’s uneasy aura fades. My imagination, maybe.

“Will you take the job?”

“Of course! Let me do it! I’ll make it dirt cheap!”

He’s spitting with enthusiasm. Old dwarf spit isn’t thrilling. Let’s purify. Showawaan.

“No, cheap’s nice, but cutting corners would suck. Aren’t you busy?”

“Cut corners?! No way! I can’t pass up this material! It’s a rare chance for the young’uns too! We’ll go full throttle, so trust me!”

Dolgan’s desperate, grabbing my shoulders. I feel his resolve, but I’m looking away. Roles reversed from earlier.

Full throttle on a tight schedule? That’s too black-corp. Reminds me of my old life. Ugh, my heart.

“Forcing the workers is iffy.”

“I’ll manage the crew! Please!”

That’s not the point.

He’s practically groveling. This is going weird.

“Calm down. I don’t want a house built with injuries or mental strain as a gift. What exactly are you short on?”

“Mmm.”

He breathes deeply, suuhaa suuhaa, settling down. Is he okay?

“…We’re short on basic laborers. Mainly for hauling timber. It’s tough work, so few want it.”

Got it. Manual labor’s always shunned.

Hmm, maybe introduce the slum folks? They’re job-hungry. If I tell Dolgan not to overwork them, it should be fine. Contract magic for that too?

“I know some laborers. I could secure a good number. How’s that?”

“What?! If that’s true, it’s a godsend. This city’s flush with cash, but laborers go to adventuring. If you can provide them, I’ll send work regularly.”

Nice! Helping Geos’s slum folks means I’m doing my Apostle job, right?

“What kind of people? Is there such a surplus in Daylight?”

“Slum residents.”

“The slums? Can they handle it physically?”

Dolgan’s eyes narrow suspiciously again. Does this guy ever keep his thoughts to himself? It’s tiring. Fair question, though.

“The slums recently got a big food boost. Diseases are nearly gone. It’s a hot investment spot now.”

“Hoh, investment? You don’t look like a merchant… But if true, that’s intriguing.”

Dolgan ponders, ummm. This deal’s coming together.

“Why not meet the slum rep? I’ve talked to him—he’s rational, no issues, always thinking of slum growth and happiness.”

Fei-san should be fine. Non-fanatic Fei, at least. His posse’s the worry.

“Hmm… Alright, I’ll meet him. Tanezu—Kei, right? Can you arrange it in your name? Where’s he at?”

“Probably at Rikkarinden Orphanage now.”

“Right! No time to waste! Let’s talk business!”

With that, Dolgan bolts off like the wind.

Bestelta and I are left standing, potsun.

…His security awareness is gabagaba.

“Kei, what now? That dwarf’s gone.”

“Yeah… I’ll let Putyuera know.”

How to tell Putyuera? Demi-humans don’t get language. Not their fault, just how it is.

Wait.

Didn’t Language Comprehension say “written text too”? Could I… send a letter? Putyuera’s Annihilation Wind Magic could deliver it quick.

If this works, I could communicate with far-off demi-humans or Karin. My heart’s racing.

“What’re you doing? Drawing?”

As I write on Silvia’s paper with Orusfin’s pen, Bestelta peeks curiously.

“Bestelta, can you read this?”

I show her five letters.

“No way I’d… wait, huh?”

Her face shifts—shock, blush, then a smile.

“You never let me get bored, do you?”

The letters read:

‘Bestelta, love love super love, mega adore you.’

‘Putyuera, love love super love, mega adore you.’

‘Shurea, love love super love, mega adore you.’

‘Lamialka, love love super love, mega adore you.’

‘Sandria, love love super love, mega adore you.’

Good, she gets it. I’m thrilled. Writing gratitude like this matters.

“Jeez… wanna breed?”

Bes is raring to go.

Nah, office breeding’s a no-go. Not that it’s bad, but TPO, you know…

“Not here. Later, okay?”

“Teasing me and then playing coy? Mean.”

She pouts, lips puckered. I peropero them.

*

The text seems readable, so I write to Fei-san and Karin about Dolgan heading their way, wanting to hire slum workers, and to contract properly in my name. I add they can threaten to withhold Rakool timber if the deal’s unfair.

I open the channel, explain to Putyuera, and a gust signals her invisible arrival. She seems happy—been on standby lately. I feel bad asking her to play mailbird.

“Putyuera, deliver these to them.”

“Got it.”

“Also, read this. What do you think?”

She grumbles, “As if I could,” but looks at her letter.

“Pfft! What’s this?! Embarrassing!”

Her wings flap wildly, basabasa.

She snatches the letters and flies off. At least she’s delivering.