Vol 3 Chapter 16 – Boyhood: Midsummer at Age Twelve

An errand boy’s morning starts early.

It sounds like the beginning of some documentary, but it really is early. When I wake up according to a farmer’s schedule, outside my cozy bed it’s still dim.

The house arranged for me by Agrippina-san is a modest two‐story building. Since the previous resident’s belongings were left behind, cleaning up isn’t a bother. Buying new dishes would cost a fortune, so I use them without hesitation—thanks to the reliable cleaning power of ＜liquidation＞.

After all, the very presence that expelled the previous tenants behaves so amiably that it’s sometimes even more comfortable than when I was at my family home.

When I got up, for some reason there were already my morning clothes and a bucket of water for washing my face waiting for me—complete with a towel as a thoughtful extra.

“Thank you, Miss Frau.”

I thanked the unseen her and gratefully made use of everything. Yes, this house is haunted by the housework fairy Silky.

Housework fairies are said to be either fairies or spirits in the form of little girls—or even weak, benevolent ghosts. They typically haunt a house as modest cohabitants, taking over chores or playing pranks in place of the residents. They lend a hand to diligent occupants and, if they dislike someone, they’ll scare them away. Truly, they’re the very picture of a fairy.

The first time I opened the door, I caught a glimpse of her in a gray widow’s outfit. She’d surely been here from the start. Judging by the mismatched belongings left behind, it seems she had already shown a disdain for several previous residents.

In this day and age, to the point of discarding one’s prized bed and dishes, to boot out the mages and magicians dwelling in the Magic District—what a remarkable character she is.

At first I was fuming, thinking, “Did she just end up with a haunted property?!” But fortunately, I didn’t earn her ire; now she works diligently for me every day just by having me offer a little milk to the fireplace.

That troublesome blond, blue-eyed one—who used to be nothing but a source of mischief—can be surprisingly useful sometimes.

Taking care not to creak the stairs with my weight as I descended silently, I was greeted by the smoky aroma from the stove in the modest kitchen. I noticed that one of the table’s legs had come off—I’ll fix it soon—but breakfast was already laid out on the tilted table.

The thinly sliced rye bread was familiar enough, but the fried egg and stewed white kidney beans were an unusual menu around here. They resembled the fare prepared in taverns by the northern islanders—whose features differ from those of the Imperial folk and who boast fuller cheeks.

I savored it all with a fragrant black tea made from roasted dandelion roots, feeling grateful that a meal would simply appear once I purchased and stocked it on my food shelf. The key is to always compliment it properly. If someone starts taking a kind gesture for granted, it leaves a sour taste.

Ever since Agrippina-san told me about all these fairy-related happenings, I’ve been extra careful never to mishandle my relationship with them.

“Gratitude for the Grey Maiden’s deep affection and for this delicious breakfast.”

After giving thanks for the meal, I quietly added my gratitude to the housework fairy. I know nothing of her origins, but it’s only natural to repay kindness with kindness—even if overdoing it might land me in a folk dance on Twilight Hill, so moderation is key.

After shoving breakfast into my stomach, I headed to the Magic Academy. The ten-minute run served as the perfect morning warm-up.

Basking in the pleasant early summer air and the cheerful light of the early sun, I saw auditing students roaming the town’s intersections. Judging by how they were throwing things at windows or casting spells, they must be working as living alarm clocks. Known as “Knockers,” in an era without alarm clocks they play an essential role in rousing the sleepy townsfolk.

Listening to the crisp, tapping sound on the windows, I finally reached the Magic Academy. I passed by spirited auditing students and professors out for a leisurely stroll before heading toward the stables.

There, the mages’ riding beasts were kept, and the stable boys hustled about from the early hours. Incidentally, since these stable boys are just ordinary humans—not mages or anything else—dangerous magical beasts (that is, primordial magical animals sharing traits with magic species) aren’t kept here. Well, a splendid unicorn is tethered nearby, so their separation is rather rudimentary.

I don’t know which professor owns that scoundrel, but that bastard keeps picking fights with me—every time he passes by he tries to nibble at my hair. Someday, when I find out his owner, I’ll be sure to complain.

Among the stable boys I’ve grown accustomed to, I tended to the two black horses that pulled Agrippina-san’s carriage.

In fact, they are proper stallions of a military horse breed—not conjured by Agrippina-san’s magic. As she says, if something can be bought with money, it’s less trouble to do so. Although I might grumble about someone who uses outrageously high-level magic for the most trivial things, I dare not say a word.

I hauled in plenty of feed and water, cast the ＜liquidation＞ spell in the stables to replace the straw bedding, and then brushed the magnificent bodies of the horses—even though I couldn’t reach their backs on my own. When I do this, they’re always in high spirits; I use my “hands” solely as a stepping stool and treat them with utmost care.

After three months on the road, one naturally grows attached. Horses are an indispensable part of any adventure, and having cared for carriage horses at home, I’m well acquainted with them.

I’d even secretly given them names. Since Agrippina-san is utterly indifferent to such niceties and simply calls them “horses,” it seemed only right to name them—so, in homage to the twin heroes, I named them Castor and Polydeuces. It might sound a bit ominous, but it suits their constant companionship, and they respond cheerily when I call out their valiant names.

“Ah—again…”

Just as I was about to brush their necks and manes, I noticed that their manes had transformed into an intricately braided tangle. It seems the local Aarv fairies have taken it upon themselves to target the two, perceiving them as “my horses.” They look splendid, but untangling them is such a tedious chore—it’ll probably take me half an hour per horse even if I put all my hands to work.

“Stop just standing there looking so proud—fight back a little!”

Well, they do seem to be saying, “Aren’t I stylish?” with a proud expression, so I can’t exactly be forceful… Besides, I convince myself that the complex use of my hands in this process helps me gain proficiency.

After finishing with Castor and Polydeuces, I went around to the other stables to cast ＜liquidation＞ on the soiled stable boys—cleaning off horse oil and manure—and earned a bit of extra pocket money (2 As per person). Not only is it a decent moneymaker, but once I rack up enough proficiency, my standing in various circles will improve—a triple win.

No matter where I go, there’s never any harm in racking up honor points… well, except on covert missions, of course.

After catching my breath with some cold water provided to me, I took the elevator to Agrippina-san’s workshop. The moment I opened the door, Eliza reacted with astonishing speed and crashed right into my chest.

“Onii-sama!”

“Hey, hey—didn’t I tell you not to fly over and hug me like that? It’s dangerous!”

Eliza—whose speech has improved remarkably in just two weeks—flew through the air, wrapping herself around my neck. With all that momentum, I had to firmly plant my feet and use my “hands” to steady her.

“But, but…”

“It was just some unavoidable indulgence, really.”

Even as I pretended to be exasperated while showering my little sister with delight, the Master cheerfully remarked that Eliza’s learning pace had skyrocketed since we were separated.

That’s probably why, instead of letting me live in the disciples’ room—which, if necessary, could barely accommodate two—we ended up paying rent and packing me into downtown.

Eliza is my little sister. And as a half-fairy—an embodiment of a living concept or magic—she treasures her roles as both “sister” and “daughter” above all else.

Deep down, she must wish to be a cute little sister, to be the princess loved by everyone in the family. It’s a natural sentiment for a fairy born of human endeavors.

That’s why her learning was delayed by my constant presence. Being immature, weak, and unreliable makes her more likely to be cherished and protected—as a little sister, that’s more endearing. Somewhere within her fairy nature, something is holding back her intellectual development so she can remain that way.

Of course, it would be fine to live as a small human child in a country manor, but as a human with vast magical talent, that way of life just wouldn’t do. That’s precisely why we left our parents’ home and came here.

And surely, the Master saw right through all that.

The Master said that once I was separated from her—and if I wanted to live with her again—I had to become a proper individual. After giving me that wake-up call, she claimed that my growth was astonishing: I memorized that manners manual (which I’d never been able to master before) in a single day and even became adept at handling a spoon to drink soup. She said I no longer fuss at night and can even go wash my hands by myself.

Now, she’s picking up the language of the court at ＜Hands-on lessons＞ level, and the Master believes it won’t be long before she officially attends the Magic Academy’s lectures as an auditing student.

I feel both happy and a little lonely that my little sister has taken her first step toward independence. And yet, because she’s still so attached to me, I tend to fuss over her too much—a bad habit of mine. I know I should stop if I realize that this overindulgence is holding her back, but…

After playing with Eliza for a while, I ask, “So, what did you study?” to prompt her review. Even the topics that were a struggle to recall just a week ago are now neatly organized in her mind and easily explained—in just one week, she really is a genius, isn’t she?

“Then, Onii-sama, the story of the first Emperor was amazing. Can you believe it? He was originally the youngest son of a small country’s king’s brother!”

Judging by what she said, it seems she had a history lecture yesterday. Although such knowledge is often deemed unnecessary for mages, magic evolved through historical demand. If one can’t understand the “path” of how and why this magic was created and refined, one can’t hope to become a mage who makes a difference in the future. That’s why the Magic Academy places such emphasis on history.

Well, if there are those who’ve actually seen the scenes firsthand, it’s only natural to put extra effort into it…

“Fuwa… ofayo…”

Even though the Master—who had crawled out of bed, scratching her head vigorously—carried the supposed weight of 150 years, I felt none of it. And, could you please stop coming out of bed in nothing but your underwear? Even though I know your humanity is as filthy as a gutter, it’s terrible on the eyes, you know.

“Ah… Hey, Erich, have you seen my glasses…?”

“They’re probably buried in a book again. I’ll search for them now, so please wait. Now, Eliza, your Onii-sama is working—please step aside.”

Grumbling about having my review interrupted by my persistently chattering little sister, I recalled a childhood friend from home as I went about my tasks. First, I used two of my “hands” to brew the tea the Master loves; then I stretched another two into the storeroom to feel around for the glasses; with the final two, I prepared the change of clothes I had set out the day before. Finally, with my remaining natural hand, I carefully combed the Master’s hair as she lounged on the couch.

It was all thanks to my ＜Multiple concurrent thoughts＞-upgraded ＜multiple thinking＞. …Yeah, forgive me for my perpetual weakness for material things, future me. After all, when my ＜invisible hand＞ increased to six, ordinary multitasking was simply too overwhelming…

It was quite an expensive purchase, but my efficiency as an errand boy has improved, so I have no complaints. More than anything, I’m thrilled by its boundless versatility. The right to complain about this belongs only to future me—after all, I’m grateful that my work is so much easier now.

After freshening up, the Master—who’d upgraded from a slovenly beauty to a proper beauty—enjoyed her tea gracefully before beginning Eliza’s lesson. My little sister, that angel, was all excited, saying today was a continuation of yesterday’s class.

Not wanting to be a nuisance, I only prepared some tea and left the room.

Even while working as an errand boy, my days have turned out far more fulfilling than I ever expected.

【Tips】In the Imperial Capital, there are delivery restaurants targeting busy researchers and professors holed up in the Magic Academy’s workshop—many get all three meals from them—though there are also upscale, luxury establishments. By the way, Agrippina is a heavy user of those services.