Ch.BONUSEpilogue

Various scrolls and books densely filled the shelves, and the room contained dyes and inks of different colors, along with a desk topped with a thick book.

In what appeared to be a space created inside a tree, a middle-aged man sat writing in a thick book.

He moved his hand while looking at the book—or perhaps something beyond it—with eyes lost in memories.

“Osa, the royal head chef who was once a Summoner…”

After writing the name and drawing a picture of a woman with an innocent expression stirring a ladle, the man wrote her story below.

[Osa, once a Summoner and wanderer, obtained the power of summoning but was not happy.

Due to the constant fear of being attacked by other Summoners and memories of childhood exploitation, she saw all beings in shades of gray.

As days passed where life’s happiness amounted to merely filling her stomach.

She arrived in the north following rumors circulating among Summoners.

Upon hearing news of a Djin with endless mysteries like a vast forest at the End of the World, Osa thought it was a foolish exaggeration at the time.

However, she came to realize that she was the fool, not others.

The powerful being divided Summoners as if holding the scales of good and evil, and fortunately, she was someone whose goodness outweighed her sins.

Thus, for the first time in her life, she discovered abundance, recognition, respect, and joy, and she set aside the summoning arts she had never wanted.

She claims she abandoned summoning despite having talent because cooking held deeper meaning for her, but the witches who studied under her questioned, “Hmm, was that really the case?”

If you read this and visit the head chef, I recommend not asking about it.

As extreme skill becomes indistinguishable from summoning, her kitchen is like a spell itself—you’ll encounter ladles and knives flying through the air.

Osa, who went from wanderer to Summoner to royal head chef—the pinnacle of her true calling as a cook—lived a happy life researching new dishes every day.]

“Next… Shir of House Freyr and the king’s vassals.”

The middle-aged man continued writing, turning to the next page without any sign of weariness.

He wrote the names of each house and its head, and beside them, he engraved emblems representing each family.

A hand holding a wooden hammer, a fox with a bow on its back, a fiercely grinning blue wolf…

In the center was engraved the emblem of House Freyr—a beautiful golden woman.

[The king’s vassals, led by Shir of House Freyr, established a gateway at the entrance to the forest following the king’s solemn command, and they rule over the retainers bestowed by the king.

Their representative is Shir, head of House Freyr and counted among the most beautiful women in the north.

Some say Shir is as beautiful as an elf… in my personal opinion, that’s not entirely wrong.

But what truly illuminates her is not just her appearance.

Her aspiration to always aim higher without ever giving up—that is what truly makes her most beautiful.

According to recent news, she has succeeded in subjugating the Djin dwelling in her bloodline after cultivating her appearance and training in summoning.

Can you believe that this woman—with her beautiful appearance, bold personality, wealth, and power—remains unmarried?

Warriors, nobles, and heroes visit her castle every month, perhaps even every day, seeking to court her.

What they receive is her cold dismissal, yet some, captivated by her proud demeanor, volunteer to remain at her castle and become her retainers.

Most seem to think they might win her heart if they continue to impress her.

Speaking from personal acquaintance, I can say this is foolish. She believes she has subjugated the Djin in her bloodline, but in reality…]

As he wrote while chuckling, the middle-aged man paused to review the last sentence, stroking his chin. He muttered with great regret:

“I should erase this. If discovered later, even ten heads wouldn’t be enough.”

Not every truth needed to be revealed to the world. Above all, the man wasn’t foolish enough to risk his neck over such trivial matters.

The man pricked his finger with his pen to draw blood. The droplets fell onto his writing and seeped into the paper…

Snap!

When the man snapped his fingers, the blood emerged from the paper, absorbing the ink of his writing. The part about Shir’s romantic history vanished as if it had never been written.

“Since it’s a shame, I’ll fill the remaining part with Freya’s shortcomings.”

After filling the missing section with some mockery toward the Djin of beauty, the man moved on to the next page.

Gulmarg, the wanderer of Manheimr and the king’s friend, and his disciple Jermy.

The man drew a dignified-looking Ogre holding a massive club and a handsome young man who looked like he could make women cry.

[The king’s friend, Lord Gulmarg, returned from the land of ice beyond the End of the World with his wife and child. Upon his return, he was stronger than before.

Perhaps growth truly continues as long as one doesn’t stop.

Lord Gulmarg immediately requested a duel with the king upon his return, and both greatly enjoyed each other’s growth despite ending up in terrible shape.

The result was Lord Gulmarg’s defeat, but he showed no disappointment or frustration. Rather, he seemed pleased by the mere fact that there was still room to improve.

The queen made robes and dresses from silk spun from ice and presented them as gifts to his wife.

It was a gift considerate of the Hrimtur’s weakness to warmth, so his wife, Lady Angrid, was greatly pleased. Like a perfect match for her husband Lord Gulmarg, Lady Angrid also became a friend of the queen.

The king invited the couple to stay at the palace, but they declined, wishing to travel throughout Manheimr to broaden their knowledge.

Then the king…]

“Hehe, as if he would just watch them leave.”

As if the scene were unfolding before his eyes, the man gleefully scribbled with his pen.

[…the king sighed deeply and said, ‘I never thought I’d envy a friend going on a honeymoon with his wife.’

But how could the beacon of the kingdom and the father of all people leave his post?

Lord Gulmarg, worried that some unfortunate incident might cancel their journey, left the palace with his wife, child, and beloved disciple Jermy.

Considering the small disturbance that occurred in the capital shortly after his departure, Lord Gulmarg’s insight was truly remarkable.

After leaving, Lord Gulmarg traveled throughout Manheimr, enjoying recruit… recruiting new disciples and raising them to become heroes.

According to rumors, some say he does this to raise new opponents who can challenge him, but this is merely hearsay.

Despite being easily misunderstood due to his Ogre heritage, Lord Gulmarg is a person of considerable knowledge and wisdom.

How could such a person raise disciples just because he needs opponents to fight?]

“…Surely that can’t be true.”

Looking displeased with what he had written, the man turned the page with a sour expression.

The man continued writing about The World Tree, elves, and dwarves. However, there wasn’t much to write compared to the previous contents.

Such as how the lower classes of the clan began demanding their rights as tree roots were stably supplied, leading to a change in government to a form of republic.

Or the civil war that broke out when the consul of the Republic of Elvenheim attempted major reforms to cut out the rotten parts of the republic…

“I should limit the political content to this much. It’s obvious that those who read this book later will try to connect it and me to politics.”

Clicking his tongue, the man wrote at the end: ‘I have tried to restrain personal impressions or perspectives in the above description, so please focus on the essential content.’

Turning to the next page, the man naturally picked up his pen, but…

Flinch.

The moment he placed the pen on the paper, the man unconsciously tensed and swallowed dryly.

But since the pen was already on the paper, ink began to flow and spread, and the man used this as an excuse to move his pen.

The king’s advisor, father of officials… Geron.

“He retired so long ago, yet I still feel tense.”

The man grumbled while drawing the face of a gentle old man. However, a faint smile played on his face, as if he was quite fond of that face.

[If one were to select people who could never be omitted when discussing the history of Manheimr, no one would leave out Lord Geron.

Of course, those who are not citizens of Manheimr might wonder why. Lord Geron rarely shows his face in public.

However, if you ask farmers, warriors, merchants, and officials of Manheimr, “Who established the foundation of the kingdom?” they would all mention Lord Geron.

If the reader of this text is not a citizen of Manheimr, please refrain from asking a Manheimr person, “Wasn’t it the king who established the foundation?”

This land itself, on which the kingdom was built, is the king. If the king had not existed, Manheimr would not have existed in the first place.

Anyway, it could be said that Lord Geron was involved in everything in the kingdom.

He established the bureaucratic system, a concept unfamiliar to northerners, planned the construction of roads for merchants and citizens to use, and ensured the smooth supply of food produced at the End of the World.

He even personally verified the rights and duties that nobles would have and trained inspectors to identify any problems with implementation.

If the king created the body, Lord Geron created the organs, blood vessels, and heart within it.

The king wished for him to live long and preserve his position…]

“Ugh… why am I getting chills?”

Shivering from an inexplicable chill, the man continued writing with an uneasy expression.

[However, Lord Geron declined in his later years, saying he had enjoyed too much work… glory.

Lord Geron divided his duties and selected appropriate successors to distribute his rights and responsibilities.

Thus, Lord Geron announced his retirement and intended to spend his old age leisurely, but when the queen begged him to remain at the palace, he reluctantly accepted the position of advisor.

Naturally, having consumed many things good for his health, he still serves as an advisor at the palace and receives the respect of many.]

“…It seems like he wants to retire, though.”

Not that I’m in any position to talk.

Fiddling with his quill pen and considering whether to add an editorial comment at the end, the man shook his head and moved on to the next page.

The man smiled as if he had been waiting for this moment and quickly moved his hand.

Unlike when writing about previous figures, there was no hesitation this time. His hand moved rapidly, writing about someone.

Knock knock!

“Hmm?”

The man, who had been writing with enthusiasm, turned his head when someone knocked on the door.

“Honey! Are you still working?”

“Ah, wait just a moment.”

A woman’s voice calling the middle-aged man “honey” that sounded suspiciously young for him.

The man hurriedly put the book he was writing into a drawer, and with a gesture of his hand, a hand made of blood appeared and neatly arranged the dyes and inks on the desk.

Once the room was tidy, the man rushed to open the door.

“Elhemina, what is it?”

“Umm… well. His Majesty said he wants to introduce you to his son and daughter.”

“Now?”

“Yes, or should I tell His Majesty? There’s a smell of blood coming from the room… Is there something urgent?”

“No, no! It’s nothing, don’t worry about it. I’ll get ready right away, so please wait.”

When Elhemina sniffed and peered into the room, the man, Dario, waved his hands in panic.

Elhemina smiled at Dario’s flustered appearance. Indeed, nothing was cuter than a husband decades younger than herself.

“Alright. I believe it’s nothing strange, so I’ll wait outside first.”

She said, kissing Dario’s cheek. Dario nodded so vigorously it seemed his neck might break.

After Elhemina left, Dario closed the door and sat in his chair, heaving a deep sigh.

“Fooled again, Dario. So much for a day off…”

Tapping his fingers on the desk and momentarily lost in thought, Dario glanced furtively at the desk drawer.

As if it had been decided from the moment he hesitated, Dario slowly reached out, opened the drawer, and took out the book.

He naturally opened the last page.

[With the help of Lord Geron and others, I became an entity reigning over officials, but the joy was short-lived. The amount of work flooding in every day was truly murderous.

After just the first week, I understood why Lord Geron wanted to tear apart his rights and duties into ten pieces and retire. Can you understand?

It was truly disappointing. It would have been so nice if he had torn them into a hundred pieces instead of ten.]

“……”

After brief consideration, Dario added one line to the end of what he had been writing.

[I wanted to retire following Lord Geron’s precedent, but the king did not permit it. He said he would let me ret—retire when his son and daughter grew up, which was amusing.

He seems to think his son only inherited his strength and horns.]

“Honey, are you ready?”

“Yes, yes, I’m coming out now! Don’t come in!”

Vowing that someday when he retired, he would show this writing to everyone, Dario put the book away.