Vol 3 Chapter 38 – Boyhood: Autumn at Thirteen・Part 16

“Eh… what kind of heart-thrilling adventure saga is that? Why not spin it into a proper performance?”

“I lack any poetic talent or skill with instruments, I’m afraid.”

Lord Faige’s offhand remark, so at odds with his imposing appearance, nearly deflated my resolve—I fought desperately to keep from looking dismayed. Yes, I know this is exactly the sort of thing that strikes your sensibilities.

Two days had passed since then—one of which was entirely spent just getting us back on our feet—and we’d finally made it home to Vustrow.

On the way back, there were plenty of moments: fretting over each other too much, praising one another until we both blushed like tomatoes… but I’ll spare you those details. We’d rather not remember them, and I’m quite sure that if we did, a pillow might be required a decade from now.

Oh, and there were no absurd random events on the return journey, the cruel kind that ruthless GMs or unkind systems like to spring on players—no stranded walking corpses, no mass disappearances, no tragic “we completed the quest but everyone died” finales. We dodged that bullet too.

In any case, still nursing a headache and pins-and-needles in every limb, I left my friend at the inn and made my way to Lord Faige’s study. I needed to report our quest’s completion—and beg him to introduce me to a skilled healer.

Buying medicine alone could cost a fortune, and seeing a healer would require an even larger fee. On top of that, the best healers often refuse new clients.

In this world, specialists never sell their skills cheap. When lives are cheap, everyone guards their worth—and being an expert in a handful of healing rites makes one picky about clients. Those certified by the Mage Academy even need official permission for advanced treatments.

After all, if they wanted, they could prepare prosthetic replacements for lost limbs, so it’s only natural they handle cases cautiously. A poor person knocking at their door is more likely to be brushed off.

So I thought it best to lean on a local dignitary—explain our plight and beg a favor.

After a brief explanation, Lord Faige’s response was exactly as I’d expected.

“Hmm… I had no idea the forest had come to such a state in our absence.”

The elderly treant straightened his posture and stroked the lichen draping his beard.

“I’ve heard of caravan attacks lately, and hunters and travelers not returning from the woods, but I never imagined a demon palace would appear. I must write a letter to the regional lord.”

“…You believe me without question?”

I couldn’t fathom how he could accept my report so readily and immediately set about admonishing the proper noble. Consider: I’m still a minor, a mere apprentice under a researcher at the Mage Academy—hardly an adventurer. Why would anyone believe a child’s tall tale? Yet here he was, writing on premium parchment as if my story were gospel.

I should have been doubted more, I thought, almost embarrassed.

“Hmph… it appears you underestimate this old tree.”

But Lord Faige laughed, clearly amused, and explained why he believed me.

“I can still sense the dense lingering scent of magic on you. No ordinary journey would expose one to such miasma, even if our provincial laws are laxer than the capital’s.”

His beetle-like, gleaming eyes locked onto mine. As a treant—counted among humans yet closest to the spirits—he evidently perceived things invisible to us.

“Above all, there was no hesitation in your words. You seemed intent on recalling events, never ‘considering’ how to tell them.”

He chuckled and offered me tea. Having spoken so earnestly, he said, I must be thirsty.

I could barely stifle my blush. I always thought that, with a spirit of someone nearing fifty and a well-honed sense of the world, I’d handle matters smoothly.

Clearly, I’d been overconfident. He’d read my true intent from my tale, understood everything, and I didn’t even notice—yet I dared doubt him. Granted, I had no reason to lie, but still…

“…Utter immaturity and shame on me.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. Young one, you’re still young.”

Even this ancient tree hasn’t lived so long in vain, he said, smiling, then penned a letter on parchment. My apologies—my body’s that of a child but inside I’m truly an old man…

“I’ve prepared a referral to a healer. With severe mana depletion, blood can pool in the brain. Take him for treatment at once.”

“Thank you! Now my friend can rest easy.”

Despite being in the countryside, Lord Faige assured me, the healer I’d see was exceptionally skilled. I was relieved—no more delaying. Today I would go to that healer. Mika must be examined quickly.

“Yes. Though I know nothing of it firsthand, I admit sending you both into mortal danger. Do not worry about the fees.”

I was deeply grateful. Though I’d saved a little gold, I didn’t know the going rate for treatment—and later learned this was a world where gold coins freely changed hands—so I’d been nervous. I couldn’t laugh if I returned with new debt for the sake of future savings.

Lord Faige, seeing me rise, gently restrained me with a sigh.

“I should tell you, you need treatment too.”

“Wha—?”

We stared at each other, each wondering what the other was on about.

“The flow of your mana is disturbed in many places—chaotic, even reversing. Typical symptoms of mana trauma.”

As far as he could see, I was gravely injured too, and really should have stayed in bed instead of coming here—he thought to himself. I’d assumed that being able to move meant I was fine.

“Why do you care so well for your friend and not for yourself…?”

He shook his head in deep exasperation, hand on brow. Then, with no warning, the walls, floor, and ceiling of the room rose up and bound me.

“Ah!”

My limbs were mercilessly restrained—I couldn’t even twitch. It wasn’t mere stiffness; every pivot point—shoulders, waist, knees, joints—was locked down.

“You must rest properly… even if you don’t want to, I will make you rest.”

Ah, I see now: treants are born of and united with their originating wood. This study itself was Lord Faige incarnate.

“And expect suitable compensation. Let me handle all the details. A living veteran’s guidance is a young one’s privilege.”

With such terrifyingly skilled and inescapable care, I was unconscious in seconds…

【Tips】Serious illness and injuries aren’t always apparent on the spot. Even he, lacking a status window, was an exception.

A mild headache and a sense of discomfort woke me.

“…Thank goodness. I’m still alive.”

Opening my eyes, I saw herbs hanging from the high ceiling. I was buried in a bed made up with clean sheets and blankets. A shallow breath brought the scent of incense-laden air, and I remembered the apothecary’s home back in my hometown.

Just yesterday, the stern elder healer had dosed me with all sorts of concoctions—bitter beyond words—and tossed me onto a clinic bed thick with incense. Judging by the changed pattern of the blanket over my face, I must have slept for days.

I glanced to my side: there was my friend Erich, bound even more securely than I was. As pitiful as it looked, his attempts to move made it oddly comical.

Clearly, we’d been injured badly enough to warrant such measures.

I’m truly glad I woke up. My master warned that reckless mages often end up with their brains cooked, or driving them insane—and dying. Yes, I was scared, even though I’d steeled myself.

When I was examined by the healer, I nearly cried. Facing death made me unafraid to risk myself for my friend, but the moment I realized I’d survive and play with him again, fear overwhelmed me.

Did I… really think I might die? Just that thought brought tears to my eyes.

But I’m alive. No pain in my limbs, and the headache, though annoying, is much better. Before taking medicine and sleeping, it felt as if hot pokers were stirring my eyes from the inside.

Yet there was something odd—a lingering discomfort across my whole body.

A sudden cough, higher-pitched than usual, jolted me. I touched myself and… was shocked.

I had breasts. Not in the literal sense of having a chest I never did, but… the symbols of a woman’s chest.

A subtle swell, but unmistakable on my own body. Unlike when I was androgynous, it was firm and round. When I felt it, the gentle softness and a firm core trickled pain-inducing surprise to my mind.

My parents once said that changes often manifest when our emotions shift drastically—someone close dies, a major social change occurs, or some great “mental” event strikes.

My mother (by cultural standards the one who bore me) joked I’d change if I experienced first love, and my father quipped that risking one’s life for something changes a person. But I never took it seriously.

I was surprised by my bodily change, yet I accepted it naturally. From a mage’s viewpoint, this must be natural—our brains and spirits are built to embrace what’s natural for us as androgynous beings.

I’ll have to check… downstairs as well. When androgynous, we lack genitalia and have only a smooth area. But with a sex change, shapes alter and even how one “picks a flower” changes…

What will Mika think when he sees me now?

Will he accept me as he did that night? Or… no, I can’t indulge such clingy thoughts. I promised to protect him and be his friend.

I must try harder—for his sake, to stay by his side.

Then this strange body might become an advantage.

My parents sometimes wondered at gender relations within our estate—divided so clearly into male and female, humans pair off and then clash over it. Perhaps because they never experienced both genders, they bicker so.

I’m an androgynous being—I can be either. So when I become a man next time, I’ll understand Erich better. And as a woman, I can say things I couldn’t as a man. I can embrace both.

I’ll become his best “tomodachi” for sure.

Thinking this, I feel better about my new body. I’m no captive princess sung by bards, and far from a sword-wielding hero. But a story isn’t complete with just the two of them. There must be a mage to bridge them, an innkeeper’s daughter to heal the weary hero, a friend to support a broken heart—and only then can his sword pierce the wyrm’s scales.

I can’t be a princess or a hero, but if he does those things, I’ll be content.

Well, even accounting for our usual “play,” it’s too cringe to say aloud—my knight is simply too much.

Ah, looks like it’s dawn outside. I might get scolded for waking up on my own, but…

It’s about time to go pick some flowers myself…

【Tips】Romance, marriage, and notions of fidelity vary greatly between species; what seems natural to one race can make others tilt their heads. This is especially true in the multi-species Triple Empire.