Episode13
Munch… munch…
Munch… munch…
The party’s eyes were glued to Don Quixote’s mouth as he chewed endlessly, shoveling down food without pause.
Aymi thought to herself.
Ever since their first meeting, Don Quixote had always been eating something.
Always.
Even in the middle of battle, he never stopped chewing. She had once thought it strange, but since his words and actions were peculiar to begin with, she hadn’t paid it much mind.
After forcing her to kneel and beg forgiveness, Ceres had only tossed a few mocking words at Agne before leaving. Watching the woman erupt in furious hysteria had been entertaining enough.
That part was satisfying.
But now, faced with the debt papers before her, Ceres found her thoughts circling back to the hefty settlement money they demanded.
“Tch.”
Clicking her tongue, she fell into thought.
Wasn’t there some way around this?
Was there truly nothing in this house worth money?
“Ah.”
Something suddenly came to mind.
“Maybe… that might fetch a price.”
Without hesitation, she swept her hand through the air. Just as before, a jagged rift split the space before her, opening into a dark void.
From within, she drew out a polished wooden box.
“Hm.”
When she lifted the lid, a small stone the size of a fingernail gleamed within, glowing with a faint blue light that carried a chill just from looking at it.
“Kai said this was valuable…”
‘Got it off that monster from the Snowy Mountains.’
‘And what exactly is it?’
‘A mana stone.’
Grace knew well the beast he meant—the so-called ruler of the snow mountains, a monstrous serpent so massive it rivaled a mansion.
The creature had long terrorized villages, slithering down from its icy lair to devour people before vanishing again.
But eventually, Kainel, who had sworn vengeance, severed its head.
‘Shouldn’t that go to Arti, then?’
Grace had spoken honestly. Mana stones left behind by ancient monsters were rare and precious. A wizard like Artea would make far better use of it.
But Kainel had only shaken his head, utterly uninterested.
‘Why would I give it to him? If I don’t need it, I’ll just toss it.’
‘Toss it? No, give it to Arti—’
‘I’ll throw it away.’
‘Fine, fine! I’ll keep it then!’
‘If you hand it to Artea behind my back, though…’
Ceres had laughed softly at the memory.
Those two were alike—Artea, who never parted with his teleportation artifact, and Kainel, who shoved a rare mana stone at her despite her having no use for it.
Now, gazing at the gem once more, she murmured, “I wonder what it’s worth these days.”
Back then it had been priceless. But three centuries had passed. Who knew if it still held value—or where she could even sell such a thing?
“…a pawnshop?”
It was three hundred years old, after all. Didn’t that make it… junk?
‘A pawnshop?! No, Grace! Not that! Honestly, you know nothing outside of medicine. This is hopeless—’
She could almost hear her disciple’s exasperated voice.
“Not a pawnshop, then?”
Her life had been spent healing people, not dealing with the world’s affairs. Such trivial matters had always been handled by others on her behalf.
Knock, knock.
A knock at the door drew her from her thoughts. She slipped the mana stone back into the void.
Click.
The door opened, and in stepped Antonion.
Hadn’t she just seen him playing with Yulia a moment ago?
“Where’s Yulia?”
“She’s reading.”
Ceres blinked. At seven years old, the girl was shockingly bright. Despite lacking proper education, she had already taught herself to read.
‘Who taught you?’
‘Books.’
‘…You taught yourself just by reading?’
‘Mm-hm.’
…A genius, then.
Now that she no longer consumed poisonous herbs, Yulia remained awake for longer stretches, and her body had filled out with healthier weight compared to her time in the sanatorium.
But Ceres couldn’t use her time-reversal ability on the child.
‘She’s too young.’
For a grown adult, it would have been simple—rewind their body to before the poison ever entered, and the treatment would be complete.
But a child? In three short years, a young body’s organs and tissues developed drastically. Reversing that growth could cause terrible, even fatal imbalance.
‘The risk is too great.’
Fortunately, Ceres knew a proper method. Slower, yes, but safe.
‘And I already have the ingredients.’
The herbs needed for treatment were piled high in her pocket dimension—rare, expensive remedies that would otherwise have been impossible to acquire in her current circumstances.
For that, she found herself begrudgingly grateful to Artea, who had given her the void-space.
Still, not everyone was satisfied.
“Where did you even get all those herbs?” Antonion asked.
“Collected them myself.”
“When?”
“A very long time ago.”
“…?”
It wasn’t a lie.
It just so happened that “a very long time ago” meant three hundred years.
‘Let me brew it, Ceres.’
‘No. The heat has to be controlled perfectly.’
‘What? Then—’
‘I’ll do it. You focus on your own work.’
When she began personally preparing the decoction, everyone had been shocked. She rarely lifted a finger for anything, and yet here she was, carefully simmering herbs.
Antonion in particular had stared in alarm.
‘What are you doing?! Are you insane? You don’t even know what that is, and you want to give it to Yulia?’
‘Giving medicine to the sick is insanity now?’
‘What kind of medicine?’
‘Gufio leaves, to draw out toxins. Celo fruit, to restore vitality. Then I mixed in dried Altshiral seeds with Kakas leaves—they’ll pull the poison even from the brain.’
‘…Wait, what?’
‘Should I explain it again?’
‘…No.’
At first doubtful, Antonion could not deny the results. Yulia’s health had improved visibly.
Still, the question lingered: where had Ceres learned such knowledge?
“A very long time ago,” she repeated now, giving him the same vague answer as before.
Antonion sighed. Long ago, when she’s lost her memories? She was hiding something—of that, he was certain.
And yet, seeing her now left him unsettled in a different way.
Was this truly the same sister he had known all his life?
She seemed steadier. Healthier. Happier.
Before, she had been suffocating to watch, consumed by despair, until she finally tried to end her own life.
But now, even with hardships looming, she exuded calm. And that calm was infectious.
“…So, why are you here?” Ceres asked at last.
“What happened to Aunt Agne?”
Ceres deftly steered the conversation away from herbs and treatments.
“The trial’s over. Attempted murder and fraud. She’s in prison.”
“I see…”
He had expected as much.
It was fortunate Yulia had survived, but attempting to poison a child was a crime too great to be overlooked.
When Antonion learned the truth—that his aunt had deliberately fed poison to Yulia—he had been struck speechless.
He had never liked her, but he had still considered her family. After all, when their parents died, it was she who had taken them in.
…Only to bleed the family dry for her own gain.
