Ch.44Dreisen (2)

Chicken skewers.

That was the first food I ever bought with my own money.

Not the kind dripping with sauce, but rather low-grade hens that had laid eggs until death, skewered with various vegetables, sprinkled with salt, and grilled until crisp.

I killed someone for the first time when I was three years old.

It wasn’t out of resentment, nor was there any grudge between us.

I believed the promise that I would be paid for killing, and that promise was kept.

At that time, I received twenty copper coins.

Looking back now, it was an absurdly cheap price for a human life.

But it was still fine.

That day, I learned for the first time what warm food was.

Being poor doesn’t mean being unhappy.

After all, unhappiness and happiness have different standards for each person.

The true fear of poverty lies in the deprivation of opportunity.

When you’re hungry, you should eat.

But because you’re poor, you can’t.

I want to wear nice clothes like that too.

But because I’m poor, I can’t.

I want to live in a house where rain and wind don’t leak through.

But because I’m poor, I can’t.

When I reached the age where I could define myself as “I,” I began to hate the world.

The jobs that came my way were grueling yet paid poorly, and crushed by life, I wanted to kill everything that breathed.

Why?

I’m suffering, yet they’re laughing?

Why?

Why do women despise me yet wag their tails at other men?

Why?

When there’s so much out there, when they have so much, why can’t I grasp anything?

And so, at an age fewer than my ten fingers, I decided to end my life and headed for a cliff.

What I couldn’t bear wasn’t the world’s malice.

What I truly couldn’t bear was human indifference.

Even if I died, no one would remember me.

If I were run over by a carriage, the driver wouldn’t go to prison.

If I were cut by a blade, no one would avenge me.

If I froze to death, no one would thaw me out.

That… that was what I couldn’t endure.

And at the edge of the cliff, I saw countless ships coming and going in the harbor.

The horizon was vast, the sky was blue, and the clouds sparkled like glass beads in the sunlight.

As if trying to grasp the horizon and clouds with my hand, I reached out, but caught nothing.

Why don’t I have a mother to embrace me?

Why don’t I have a father to protect me?

Why don’t I have brothers and sisters to share happiness and pain with?

The questions were endless, and my suffering continued.

And it felt so unfair.

Not that something was taken from me, but the inherent unfairness that nothing was given to me in the first place.

It was so unfair it cut to the bone, burned my soul.

And having failed to grasp the horizon and clouds, I thought:

I can’t die like this.

Someday… someday I’ll cross the horizon and go higher than the clouds to make my name known to the world.

So that everyone in the world can witness my death.

I’ll advance until all men either admire or despise me, and all women either love or scorn me.

With that thought, I came back down from the cliff and never went up there again.

That day, I gave myself the name Victor for the first time.

Victor (Viktor)…

No matter what adversity comes my way, I will never yield.

This was neither a contract with God nor a promise with humans.

It was a covenant with the one and only, more brilliant than anything else in this world.

*

“…That dream again.”

I murmured quietly while lying awake in bed.

*Sigh*

I wiped my mouth and washed my face at the bathroom sink to make myself presentable.

Perhaps it’s the fatigue from adventuring lately. I seem to be dreaming about the past often these days.

“Huff…”

But since I can’t blame myself for dreaming my own dreams, I put on my armor again, secured my four swords firmly, and went downstairs to the first floor.

Looking at the clock, it was around 8:20 in the morning.

Perfect time for breakfast, and proving that, there weren’t many empty seats.

I sat at the nearest counter seat and asked the innkeeper for some soup and bread for a light meal.

Soon the soup and bread arrived, and after finishing everything cleanly, I paid the server and went out to the street.

“Let’s see… I should start heading there now.”

Even though I had finished eating, it wasn’t even 9 o’clock yet.

Those with irregular living habits might still be sleeping, so it would be better to visit leisurely rather than rushing.

Besides, if someone recommended by a professor of the Magic Tower—especially someone important enough to be an assistant to the Tower Master—they must be either a famous figure or a reclusive genius, so there was no need to be an unwelcome morning visitor.

“Hmm… They have rickshaws here too.”

I’ve heard that the presence of rickshaws is often used to distinguish between small to medium-sized cities and large cities.

As cities grow, more people can’t afford to buy or rent horses, so naturally, human-pulled carts become a means of transportation.

Of course, rickshaws can sometimes be found in smaller cities too, so it’s not an exact classification, but thinking that way would be pointless.

Whether it’s a city of 10,000 or a city of 1,000,000, to a country bumpkin who’s lived in the countryside, they would all just look like cities.

“Rickshaw!”

“Yes, sir!”

I decided to take this opportunity to get to know this city of Dreisen, and as part of that, I decided to tour around the city by rickshaw.

Soon a rickshaw approached, and the unfortunate rickshaw puller with a receding hairline rubbed his hands together and asked:

“Where would you like to go, sir?”

“Since this is my first time in this city, I need to familiarize myself with the geography, so please take me on a tour around the city.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Thank you.”

I got on the rickshaw, and soon the puller skillfully grabbed the handles and began running along the road.

Clunk… clunk…

A cart pulled by a human, quite different from a horse.

It had been quite a while since I’d ridden a rickshaw.

I used to ride them often in Parcival, but I hadn’t had the chance since starting my adventures.

“That’s the waterway over there. The pride of Dreisen. My son works there.”

“Oh?”

Clunk… clunk…

“And… that’s the market of Dreisen. I met my wife there while arguing over the price of fish.”

“Ha. What a curious connection.”

Clunk… clunk…

“That area is where magicians mainly stay. There are ancient imperial ruins that help with research or something… Adventurers have already cleaned it out, so there’s nothing to gain by going there.”

“What a shame.”

Clunk… clunk…

“And that mountain has many medicinal herbs, so adventurers and herb gatherers come and go all the time. On days when animals like wild boars are caught, it’s a day to grease our bellies.”

“Wild boar meat… sounds delicious.”

For a full three hours, I rode the rickshaw around the city, and when I finally returned to the starting point, I got off and gave the puller a generous fare.

“Oh my! There’s no need to give me this much…”

“I enjoy spending money. Take it before I change my mind.”

I forcibly placed the fare in the hand of the man whose hair was vanishing, and recalling the address I had seen while riding the rickshaw, I began making my way to the address written in the letter.

*

“Hmm. It was quick by rickshaw.”

It would have been better if I had brought a horse, but I was foolishly wasting time by walking on foot.

I meant to be considerate of others, not to make myself foolish.

Anyway, I finally arrived at the address written in the letter, and what I found was not a large mansion but the gate of a shabby building.

Well, a reclusive genius, was it?

Bang! Bang! Bang!

I knocked on the gate, and after a short while, there was a rustling sound and a voice from beyond the door.

-Who is it?-

“Victor. Is this the home of Alexander Yegorovich, the mark engraver?”

-….I don’t recall scheduling any visitors…-

“I was referred here.”

-By whom?-

“Professor Felice of the Spell School of Ortus Magic Tower.”

-Sigh….-

A deep sigh came from beyond the door, and then with the sound of a latch being removed, the door opened.

Clunk!

What appeared was a man just transitioning from youth to middle age. He was about my height but much bulkier, with an unsightly protruding belly.

Also, the air flowing out from the house was so acrid that I didn’t want to enter, and the piles of garbage visible beyond supported my thoughts.

“Are you… Alexander Yegorovich?”

“Yes… Well, it’s not polite to keep a guest standing. Come in for now. Just be aware that the place is a mess.”

“I… suppose I will.”

And so, with the feeling of entering an opium den, I entered the home of the mark engraver.